Little specks of profanities

   c a r v e d     t h r o u g h

       and into my chest.

We write the truth
What is
What could be
Not what never was

We write in convenience
Kept short
The necessary evil
Cut to the bleeding bones

We write
To hear the listener
To anger the mob
To announce the obvious

.....................

The soothsayer questions
Not the visions
Nor the whispers

The witch doctor
Dances in flames
Ruts in waters

The prophet profits
In times of plenty
In times of war

10

She knelt
in the hunger days of youth.
Castrated, *****
and ****** up.

"All in the mind,"
they said
"don't isolate yourself
from the wolves."

One by one
a chunk of flesh
is just a piece of
stolen candy.

"Don't fear us,"
they said.
"We'll keep you alive.
It will be our pleasure."

  20

My thoughts are written
on the side of my head.
Yet, they hide from you.

Under the letters,
your commas and clauses,
your conditions.

Words.
They mean nothing.
Yet everything is seen in them.

Why.
It never ends.
Well.

  30

It went on. This series of
talks. It ails me. 
The cheapness of this
masquerade.

The farce 
is fun to watch. Happy with
this comedy
of silence, and the cold.

Children used to play,
now used for play-- 
like bots,
or chess.

If I didn't have
a God, a heart, a soul,
you'd be happy
with your ghost in a shell.

  40

The legal guy spoke as if
he knew what was right.
Legal is something else.

What do i know.
"You know nothing, John Snow."
is a fine meme for one of us.

I can hear the anger in your tone,
the hysteria rises each time I dont go along
willingly.

When I was a child,
I thought like a child.
How convenient that was for you.

How to demarcate 
the silence 

behind respect 
vis-a-vis consideration? 

One is taken 
and [ab]used 
the other, reciprocated. 

The blind and blinded 
show their anger, 
make us fools. They 
call us stupid 
and uninitiated 

That is 
how they want us 
to remain. A threat 
to remove.

Nano therapy.

Scares the hell outta me.

Smaller than virus, bigger than antibody,

a little chip squeezes in RBC.

It's suppose to

gather

identify

target

cure

change.


A brain's being transferred bodies.

AI talks on their own.

Kids' brains are screentime putty.


Who needs China, Korea, ISIS,

global warming and political doofuses.

We're ripe from our own advanced illnesses.

Our tight ****
holes make
sure everybody gets
their comeuppance.

she wrote love letters​
    when she was eight. her insides
    were all over.  once, she drank
    a bottle of tears until she drowned.
    but she didn't.
    she breaths in it.

    in the long grass, she walks naked through the strong wind
    as cogon danced against her skin,
    marking her in lace.

    years
    ago, she stopped writing letters.
    she drew her face across the wall
    and stared for hours until she could
    look at herself no more.

    i saw her
    on a rocking chair, singing softly as
    she looks far away. she sings
    the letters she used to write --
    how warm and clear the waters were,
    how gently the breeze whispered.

    she closes her eyes
    to remind herself
    how it is to be kissed for the first time.