i pour myself another flask
tilt my head to the heavens and choke it down
as if to say 'that one's for you mom'
the gulps of jack honey that kiss my stomach
become a bitter reminder of the things that i relinquish in sobriety
they ask me about my coping skills and lately
i nit pick, mock, and overanalyze
see, i am much more bitter than the poison i swallow
yet it will never occur to anyone that i have a void in my heart the size of kansas
i take another swig, feel the whiskey warm my cheek, and
close my eyes to imagine my mother's hands cupping my face
as if to subtlety remind me that i'll be alright
but that never corresponds to the way that i've felt since that night
i stand in front of the mirror bearing a shocking resemblance of her
my eyes tilt down a little and my lips are thin, just as hers were

Good morning creatures
This is your father speaking
Love my sun today

We believe we must be gregarious.
In communal bonds families annoint
One another in a precarious
Need to follow one leader at the point.

Individuals are not relevant.
Momentary solitude makes us run.
In silence we find nothing elegant .
Time to search for innerpeace has begun.

"Oh' Catain, My Captain," cried Walt Whitman.
The captain is dead. There's no one we need.
We don't have to group to stop the hitman.
The single flower's a rose, not a ****.

We, need to be I, hear this confession:
Farewell friends, I am my new obsession.

Balochistan
Tattered and torn

Brother
Forgotten and forlorn

Belief
Cracked like the arid land

Bridge
A hopeless demand

Bomb
Ticks at the rate of your heartbeat

Breath
Becomes heavier and incomplete

Blood
Ironclad? Iron. Ironic.  

Body
Broken and bruised, it’s chronic.

Bury
Under the infected earth

Birth
What is its worth?

A note on the sectarian violence spreading across the nation of Pakistan.