A beast,
only a little frightening, a little wicked.
Only as much as possessed
by demons in Scotland.

I don't know if it was just
the *******-induced acid-psychosis,
or if we really swapped lives,
and shared with Burroughs in the Sahara.

In any case,
we share the joke of sacrificing children
in repetitious ritual.
We fiends, we leprous pariahs,
who know too much to be safe,
and too little to be truly dangerous.

What color is your hair?
You should dye it again.
Why did you do that?
I liked it better brown.

When I was little, I wanted to be lots of things.
A construction worker, an actress, an epidemiologist, a mermaid, an artist, but always—
Brave.
I made up my mind: whatever I did, I would do it fearlessly.
I remember, age nine, Idabel Oklahoma: the first time I saw that blue bottle of infinite possibilities.
I went in through the beauty store door and I left through a window.
Someday, I thought,
Maybe I’ll be brave.
Someday, I thought,
Maybe one woody streak of my boyish bob would become a declaration of just how few ***** I give about my reflection in the mirror like eyes of the entire universe.
Someday…

I went to a private religious school from a few months old until my graduation at age 18 in May of 2012.
“Unnatural” hair colors were strictly forbidden.
My blue fantasies remained the pearl hidden inside me
Throughout losing friends,
Throughout losing love,
Throughout losing self-control, self-respect, and finally selfishness.
I was liberated in June.

My hair is blue
For all the things I wanted to do, but never could.
My hair is blue
For the little girl who always told her self she’d do it and who finally followed through.
My hair is blue
Because my soul is blue. Not sad, no, but infinite and oceanic, divergent, powerful, indecisive and moody.
My hair is blue
Because I am finally okay with the blue inside of me, and it’s high time I looked more like the person I actually am.
My hair is blue
For me.
I exercised my powerful position as an individual, as sole sovereign over my place in the universe. I am my identity, I have the power to change your perception, the power to shift social circles, the power to do anything but remain the same.
My hair is blue
For the hearts of every single child who’s eyes have lit up at the sight of it. For the kids who maybe for the first time have realized that hair the same shade as their favorite candy-color is even a possibility; that they too are allowed to challenge the ordinary, that there is no “normal” way to be or look, and that the same window I once crawled out of is still open and beckoning.
I
Dyed
My
Hair
Blue
Because I CAN, and because you CAN, and because they CAN, and because we CAN, and because not enough people DO.

First of all I pray
That everyone could say
That they remembered a name
I pray that every one
Can remember those daughters and sons
That aren't all the same

Secondly I beg
That every broken leg
Heals with grace and ease
Every broken heart
Feeling torn apart
Can heal.
I beg, please

Most of all I want
A world that doesn't haunt
My mind with disrespect
Most of all I need
A world that's free of greed
Is that too much to expect?

This town is suffocating me.*
Words that are heard more often than not,
Never felt so real.

It *****
A lot.
But its just a couple more weeks now.
We're gonna be just fine.

I like the way you scrunch your face,
When you hit the high notes.
And I like that little hole,
On the right knee of your jeans.
I like those beautiful blue eyes,
That scan the crowd every night.
But most of all,
I love the way that you light up the stage,
And how obvious it is that it's exactly where you belong.

Fluorescent flickers illuminate the stained cement floors of the hallway. Your slippered feet music an uneven pad and scuff. This ***** city is home, whatever that means. This ***** city holds you like you're someone else's child. A burst of joy and music reaches for you through the window; someone bangs a door and you turn on the tap. As water sputters onto your toothbrush you catch a whiff of Dakota Jim's racist southern drawl, a puff of his ketamine breath.

You walk to the window, toothbrush dangling.

[Oh London, I know you love no one, but nights like this I feel your heartbeat in your embrace.]

History swells beneath your feet. Your eyes land on a seated figure, his grand headdress of feathers overpowering the tableau, his gaze calmer than the other mad happy swirls that make up the crowd. It makes you wonder what he sees. Probably nothing. You will learn that when he seems profound it is usually an accident. You are penned in by jagged skyline hieroglyphics. History swells. Your heavy hearted story is a speck consumed in all this history. All the history you were taught in school was death, you remember your mother bemoaning this war generals and battle dates history. You wonder at how much death this place has seen, how many lives the city has birthed and eaten, hungry mother staving off starvation.

We all write our stories on other people's bones. Of course the greatest cities would leave the greatest scars. And what did you come here looking for anyway?

[Hello Momento Mori city. I see you. I see your rooftops straining to **** stars. Do you mourn for your dead? Are they heavy in your belly? Are you going to eat me, too?]

But now, if you drag your little mind back from the immensities, everything around you is alive. Everyone is dancing, happy to be caught in her belly. Or her womb. Not one of you knows which, but there you are. In the courtyard, the small, steady figure of Freddie Stitz brings a lit cigarette to his lips and smiles up at you in the window.

Wipe that toothpaste off your face, you look ridiculous. Go back to bed.

Build a bridge
Get over it
It's your life
Take hold of it

Nothing glitters
Nothing's gold
But it's your life
And it's yours to hold.

So polish it well
So that it will glisten
Tell your story
No matter who listens

For it's your story
It's yours to be told
'Cause it's your story
And it's yours to hold.

more people say they can't carry on
they say it will be better when they are gone

when I see worlds shatter
my heart breaks with it

let us help. let us pick you back up
before you are stuck in the ground