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Skinny like a Starbucks drink with zero sugar, zero guilt and full of almond-milk joy.

Skinny like a microwaved meal, perfectly portioned and easy to count.

Skinny like  two diet cokes and a cigarette for lunch.

Skinny like Adderall, a high dose for higher grades.

Skinny like late nights and random *** with strangers.

Skinny like virginity.

Skinny like binge-purge-repeat.

Skinny like perfection, like mints and sadness and tight little swimsuits.

Skinny like a disorder.

Skinny like control out of control.

Skinny like a diagnosis.

Skinny like suffering.

Skinny like her.
Age comes with a price.

At first there's student loans to pay, and medical bills soon come your way:

There's marriages and births...

Save some money for the worst of times, spend a nickel or throw a dime.

Insurance and loans to buy a home, between car payments and rental fees;

Donate to your church while praying on your knees.

Our wallets grow thinner with each passing day, working grim and *****, tryin' to find another way:

Just make it through and retire, watch the grand kids grow.

Maybe spend a couple of months down in Mexico.

Soon enough you'll have to leave your line, and realize that real wealth...comes in the form of time.
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
Simplicity is the best dish:

Easy to prepare and mimic, over and over again. You could make it ten-thousand times and it'll still feed you.

It'll keep you full on those nights when the only thing keeping you warm are thoughts of success; of drowning in cash flows. New clothes and a home right in the middle of a city.

You're too old for that.

Oh, no, you see your friends choking on fine cigars and driving cars that they can barely afford, with kids pushing at their knees.

There's soil under your fingernails, and you can't cook with filthy hands.

So you think. You pray.

Ruminate for years until you decide that it's alright.

Live quick and harsh and ***** because food tastes good and she does, too.
  Sep 2018 Ink Syndicate Poetry
Sam
While satellites come close and leave,
whole moons and the swirling dust
of reflective obeyers,
it arrives from distance.

Running a course through weight
from a pencil-thin horizon brow,
it might have streaked across darkness.
With the dead shines behind,
washed clean in a trail of wild flame and
then fallen, bolide broken into cascade.

Or rising to collide,
only skim the surface.
Ruffle the sheets of land,
wrinkle fertile leas and parched sands.

No, to strike full and shudder
the core and extinguish
light and life.
With unswerving smite.

From underestimated range
and unmeasured haste,
a peacock tail drags far behind.
Each one diamond dolefully eyed.

Is this eccentric orbit
the only the path seen?
Fastened to your celestial belt
and looped in an endless trajectory.
  Sep 2018 Ink Syndicate Poetry
Maya
how to have a good
haiku: make sure you do not
run out of sylla-


****.
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