Tanned bodies
Scorched faces
In the Pacific Sun
In search of a palm shade
A balm for our bodies

On a tandem
At 60-miles-an-hour
Against the Tropical cyclone
Whipping our faces
In search of a palm haven
A balm for our weary soul

Here we found
A shelter
In the times of El Nino and cyclone
A haven of rest
Safe and secure
Warm and filled
From the meat and juice
Of the coconut palm trees

I am from my grandmother,who snuck out of the house to smoke camel non-filtered

I am from the middle of nowhere, not far from town.

I am from the pine tree with a water hose tied on it, where I imagined  I was Indiana Jones.

I am from the woods, where the cicadas sang at night.

I am from the kudzu that blanketed the trees and menaced the garden.

I am from the apple trees in the front yard, whose fruit                         never turned red.

I am from the middle of nowhere, not far from town.

I am from my grandfather’s plaid pockets, where he would pull out                     suckers.

I am from my father’s mustang that i crashed into the driveway.

I am from my great-grandfather’s picture, proudly displayed on the              wooden mantle.

I am from my grandmother’s bible stories, in the back bedroom where she read every night.

I am from the middle of nowhere, not far from town.

I am from Highway 494, where the trees were leveled to build subdivisions.

I am from the soft red clay and moist brown earth of the backyard.

I am from the moonlight I could see from the top of my house late at night.

I am from the sweltering heat and uncut grass in the front yard.

I am from the middle of nowhere, not far from town.

I am from the small cemetary past the corner store, where my grandfather      lies next to my grandmother,

and my father next to her.

I am from Uptown New Orleans, where my daughter learns her A.B.C’s in the back bedroom

where she prays every night

I am from the brown bag from the Shell station that i fill with suckers, and sneak to her when her mom isn’t watching.

I am from the picture of us dancing at a music festival, her on my shoulders, displayed proudly on the wooden mantle.

I am not from from anywhere, in the middle of town

Rockets take the lead
We were playing so well
Now are being outscored 29 to 10 in the fourth quarter

Come on Clippers
I don't want to see a game seven

at one point i threw myself into a puddle of negligence and reveled in the sickingly delightful pleasures of self indulgence and cynicism

i knew no moderation and i knew no god, and without a hint of balance i nonchalantly stumbled across a tightrope that was threaded with desire and desperation

beyond the point of no return i realized the scars i bore were testaments of ******* that cried crimson tears of a faith long contorted

i needed a catalyst, and i fell from the tightrope in a similar way i fell from grace

all of the time i spent moving backwards sent the hands of the clock in a frenzy, and the last i remember they had moved backwards infinitely more than i ever could

The world keeps spinning
And it's giving me this feeling
That I've felt before.
Managing it is such a chore
But it keeps coming back.
It makes me feel like I lack
What others are born with,
And I am merely 1/5
Of what others are.
I just want to run somewhere far
From this so-called community
Where I'm chained by names like "fatty".
Sometimes I want to curl my finger
And pull the trigger
And let it go
Into the wind and blow
Away like dust
And then it would be gone, this lust
To escape this mess of a world.

I realized today that I have
stopped living life.
I am literally just trying to get
to the next day, just living in the
thought of tomorrow.
I am not living, I am waiting.
And the trouble is, I don't know what
I am exactly waiting for. I am kind of
scared for what it might be.