This ******* heart beats thrice per second
Pumping in and pumping out the black tar from my lungs.
If the body is a temple,
Then I have abandoned mine
No one now kneels in this void.
Baptized in whiskey,
Circumcised with a machete.
It’s no coincidence that,
I was born on the full moon
In the midst of a hurricane.
Learning how to eat with no spoon
But this is who I am.
We each have a cross to bare
Mine’s just covered in scalpels
Sharpened bread knives,
That draw wrinkles on my face.

Like a treasured heirloom painting
dulled by passing time,
its colors, sadly faded,
this tricolor of mine.
Once crimson red, now cinnamon,
The blue an aqualine,

When Liberty was naked
We draped her in its folds.
The boys in blue held this high
in times that try men’s souls.
Let not the flag of freedom drop
nor linger in the dust.
Let faded glory be restored-
In Liberty we trust.

I still remember
When I toiled the earth
From morning to sundown
Sweat on my brow
Boiling in my veins,
I'd wipe away the blood
And catch my breath
Looking upon her
The dirt that lived
That supported my every step,
Every breath that escaped me
Was a sigh for her,
And now I lie
Tired and weary
Not wanting to toil again
Given up
For I could not grow
What she wouldn't yield,
Barren death
Cold frosted land
Wicked weeds of doubt,
I loved her
Through the tears
And even then
No seed would bare
What I yearned from her...
APAD13 - 115 © okpoet

I lie in bed at night,
And my hand rests in the dip between
My ribcage and my hip.

And if my fingers were larger,
And longer,
It could be your hand there.

In the morning, I crawl out of bed
And I fancy I'm your lioness,
Hair ruffled, stretching for the sun,
All gold, all lonely, while you play with others of my kind.

There's a bruise on my collarbone.
I waved it off as, um,

I'm clumsy?

But if I am I guess I just walked straight into your kiss.

My dress is clinging to the scent of your aftershave
And my cigarette,

But they're both secrets

So I've locked them away in the back of my mind, to keep them fresh.

And I've hidden the dress at the back of the wardrobe, just in case I forget.

There, a sick little finger sat with veins and skin, on a hand that used to say so much (It doesn't exist anymore). A long time ago, you could see how it might have moved slightly, pulsed occasionally, and touched. There, underneath a couple feet of immalleable congestion, a pair of eyeballs rang with such phonetic power, that today it might give you shock (They're silent now). And, of course, a smile (that no longer holds its power) could comfort you for longer than the average mouth.

Yet, the smile, eyes, skin, and veins, and sick little finger may still be, for she who holds them is real as can be.

But surely, she is gone now, as two feet of soil is no different from two years of distance.

How can I make something out of nothing?

Like honestly, I was born with all I could ever ask for.

Then when I was six my dad died.

Car crash... I was in the car with him that day.

A few years later my mom died of cancer.

I held her hand as she died.

Child services tried to send me to my crazy uncle in Vermont.

I couldn't let that happen.

I ran away.

I was labled "A.W.O.L. #4."

For almost a year I survived on change I found in the streets.

I also wrote my own songs and sang thrm on the corner of a street for just dollars a day.

Until this one day...

She came to me like a dream.

I was washing my hair in a public fountain when she found me.

She was wearing white shorts and a red shirt tucked in.

Her hair was pulled back in a neat, curly ponytail.

She walked up to me and offered me her towel.

(She had just come from a day at the beach.)

I took it from her and thanked her.

She stared at me for what seemed like an hour.

I held out my hand and told her my name.

She shook it and told me hers.

She saw my tattered clothes and my ***** scars.

"Want to come over my house? I can get you some new clothes and you can stay a night if you'd like."

I couldn't decline.

I had no other better offer.

I only had 3.21$ on me and my notebook and pen.

She picked up my book and took my hand.

She took me to her house and instructed me to take a shower.

She handed me soap and a towel and shut the door on her way out.

When I got out she had layed out clothing for me and told me to meet her in the kitchen.

She cooked me an omelet with cheese and a salad on the side.

She handed me a glass of orange juice and without another word she left upstairs.

I was almost done by the time she came back down.

She had a bag in her hands.

She took out a razor and mens shaving cream.

Then she grabbed scissors and smiled at me.

She wet my hair and slicked it back.

She began to snip away at my hair.

I watched lock after lock fall down.

When she was done she dried my hair with a towel.

It was beautiful.

I thanked her.

She even shaved my face.

I felt so new and clean.

I told her I had to leave.

She asked me to stay one night because it had already began to get dark.

She took me to her room and told me to get on her bed.

I went on and she put a blanket on me.

She then layed down on the floor.

I told her to switch spots with me.

She refused so I picked her up and put her on her bed.

She told me if she had to sleep on her bed I had to sleep with her.

We woke up the next morning and her mother was standing over the bed.

It took a while for her to explain what was going on.

Her mom then called Child Protection Services and told them where I was.

A week later we went to an office that looked like it belonged in an insane asylum.

I was told to go in a waiting room.

After two hours of waiting she came back out and said, "Let's go home big brother."

She was holding yellow papers in her hand.

Adoption papers.

I had been taken in by her.

How can I thank her now?

She had saved my life.

And since then she has saved my life three other times.

I have nothing to give to her.

How can I make something out of nothing when it depends on my dear sisters' happiness?

Watch;
everything will be illuminated.
Teeth lacquered in glass shards
will bite down on plaster hearts,
Yet the sweet perfume
of your rancid breath
Will never give us life
nor Death.

Watch;
everything will be undisputed.
Vapid tastes will linger on sordid tongues.
Cover your mouths, irascible ones!
The race to end has just begun!

The beauty of evil is the good that transcends it.
We are not victims, we are survivors.

You are a canvas.
Personality paints your eyes red and your heart blue.

Nothing more than a mortal shell.
Bullocks.
Everything we adore is harbored in the backs of our eyes.

Blink.