Streets as hot as metal
Where bodies turn to ice
Bullets litter cracked sidewalks
That broke the sad stoplights.
Laughs flood through the fences
With shattered slides and dreams
The man passed by this every day
With feelings that tested seams.
Every day, the same old thing
Drugs erupting from the bricks
Graffiti covering an old cafe
Crime makes this city tick.
Another young kid crying
For he hasn't got a home
Another car's been totaled
The wrath road rage has shown.
Another playground built again
Trying to make the town look clean
He can't ignore the orange jumpsuits
That stick around to plant some trees.
Blood stains here and flowers there
Take a stroll down Contrast Street
Ignoring grimy street vendors
Cause he's heard they've got the creeps.
Another gun shot in the air
Another cry for help
Another pretty restaurant
And people trying to convince themselves.
That maybe it's not happening
Someone will come along who cares
Someone else, take care of that!
Me? No, don't you even dare.
So I guess this can just keep happening
These walking contradictories
You're defeating your own purpose
We're losing, don't you see?

Sometimes when my mind drifts
it goes back to endless hallways
and that all too familiar scent
overtakes my senses

My spine actually cringes
at the thought of the needles
piercing the central nervous system
they forgot to numb

my thoughts swim in the pools
that formed in my mother's eyes
as she quoted the neurologist
"your son is dying."

I can still taste the confusion
that drowned my confidence
and left me wondering
if it'll ever resurface

my dreams never stopped crying,
if they even have the chance to exist
they're nothing short of terrifying,
nightmares replaced the rest

it's odd that I can remember
the sickness that consumed me
but completely and utterly forget
the happiness that prequeled it

I met you in the dark
Around one a.m.
You looked like a star that had just fallen
Ready to take my soul.
You got into my car,
Your aroma filled my head with
Lilacs and candle wicks.
Your eyes heavy set from the day,
As black as rare diamonds.
You embraced me and my heart sunk
Down to the depths of the ocean
Where no one knows what lies.
I felt like the air had vanished
And my lungs were crying out.
You kissed me
And my body began to rise
As if I were a ghost.
For I had to keep telling myself
"This must be real."
Your touch, your taste,
I felt as if I had turned into dust
And was flown over the world.
You liberated my soul,
Rather than destroying it.
All I can say,
Is I am happy you have returned to me.
For now I am no longer an empty shell,
I have become as light as air.

Today, for the first time, I looked at my mother. Really looked at her. I've been watching her for years. I know her habits, the way her face slackens when she's mad. I watch the way she is in the world and I know who she is, what she feels like, how she smells; but until today, I couldn't have told you what she looks like. She is beautiful. Breathtaking. It's Christmas and the house is warm, glowing, smells like food. We had company and she was flitting about, kitchen to couch, apron wrapped around her fancy dress. No stockings or shoes. She was waving her arms, twiddling her fingers around her wineglass, rubbing her feet together, always in motion. Her face slid so easily into a smile, creases outlining her happiness. Strong features: a big nose, defined chin, high cheekbones, easily visible because of her short hair. My mother is not a small woman, nor is she big, but she stands tall with broad shoulders, mine now the same, and her presence is colossal. I could see the 20 some year old that my father fell madly in love with. Gorgeous. Strong. But at the same time, so soft. Every part of her nurtures. I sat in awe, stunned that I had not noticed that she was once so much more than Mom. Still is.

One of the saddest things to me
Is how my generation
Has been deceived to believe
That there are rules
To poetry

That thought is absurd and profane
I’d even take another step
And call it inhumane

Poetry is an expression of being
A way to be free

I finished writing this poem
When I realized something
This doesn’t just apply to poetry
But to all writing

Essays and poems and stories
If we all wrote the same way
We would be so boring

Write different
Write about what you want
Not what they say
Do the complete opposite
Of their way

But it’s not just about writing different
It’s how your pencil
Or other writing utensil
Moves across the paper
It’s about the breath you take
Right before you pour
Your heart on the white sheet
It’s about the way you see

So don’t just write things differently
Write in your own way
Create a new style
And then you’ll know
You’ve gone the extra mile

I finished this poem again
Thought now would be a great time to end
And then I realized something more
This isn’t just about writing
This is life
Break those rules
Don’t conform

It’s not just about breaking rules
Or being some kind of lawless hipster
It’s about being yourself

It’s not always about where you go
No, sometimes it’s about how you flow

There’s something special
Buried deep inside
It’s chained down
Release it
And it will give you life

Yes
I guess you can follow
The rules and regulations
If you enjoy being assimilated
Into a system
That was better
Before it existed

You have two options
Pretend you never saw this
And stay hopeless
Or stand up
And become righteous
I highly suggest the second
But of course
I’m biased
Because I hate the idea
Of being hopeless

You have the ability
To be something
Wonderfully crazy
Something that no one else can be
Because you are you
Different than me
So be your own
Not some societal clone
Be you and you alone

I urge you
Stand against conformity
Don’t be he or she or me
Be something completely unique

I run with all my might
Can’t put up a fight
Whether I run left or right
I can never find the light
Consistently sprinting into the night

Never gaining ground
Always fallin’ down
I feel like I’m gonna drown
In my own helplessness
Reverse exodus
Is this my personal pestilence?

How did I become so broken?
With all this burning emotion
Broken spirit
Broken heart
Broken person

I need somebody to save me
Pull me from the fire
Wash away my blood
Show me love

But where can I find this someone?

All I desire is healing
Nothing else is even appealing
Here I am kneeling
Begging to be free
Savior, unbreak me.