this is not a poem
it is a question

what makes you think you're so remarkably
invincible, and chasing rays of light until they die away?

what makes me cling to this
disquieting momentum, this moon-absorbing, hateful creature?

this is not a poem
it is a question

why can i not detect the seconds
of high voltage danger, and why-

why do i pour my heart
out to a stranger?

why

°°°

this used to be a question-

turning to an answer, though, and tapping
at my chamber door, pronouncing

with a clear voice - and with rain-drops bouncing off the window pane -

the word:

because*.

Sprawled out across his back.
Contouring the bean bag chair into something shapely beautiful.
Knees expelled in opposite directions,
Expelling my imagination into a furious sea of frenzy.
Silence.
Except for the constant clicking of the video-game controller.
The constant flicking of his fingers soon lead my imagination
Elsewhere.
The traffic-jam of words inside of me soon slip uncontrollably to thoughts
As I sit behind him.
My heat undecoded.
Legs crossed, just as a lady should.
Girls from all over must tell him he's beautiful.
But beauty in itself is a limitation.
I'm not sure if he is aware that he is beyond
The liberal definition.
I find myself soon forgetting the awkward of the situation,
Instead savoring the surreal reality of such a moment.
"Are you winning?" I shortly ask him, breaking the heavy incredible silence.
But I had to know.
He can miss as many goals as he likes. Laugh it off.
Because inside of me he's scoring.

the heart aches
like
earthquakes.

today
i allowed myself to feel
heartbreak
one very last time for you.

the sun was settling,
silhouetting the city

it felt like
the burial site of massacred dreams.

I go where the wind blows me, and I follow my heart
Whether that brings us closer together, or tears us further apart...
What is done in the dark often comes to light;
What is done in the light often lurks in the dark-
When its all said and done,
The only thing that matters is if I'm
Happy
Because, I am the only person that I can be, and
Wherever I'm at,
I need to feel like that's exactly where I need to be.

Pain and sorrow often hold either side of the hands of death. But sometimes death can be a beautiful thing; it liberates one from the pain and sorrow that often hold the hands of life.
The sound of oxygen waves, crashing through the thin plastic cannula, it's high tide on the beaches of her lungs. Her lungs are slowly being swallowed by the volume of the sea, her eyes heavy from the weight of the world.
I hold her in my arms and whisper softly, "what are you thinking about?"
She said the Ocean.
Because that's her favorite place to be.
-I prayed to God this morning. I asked him to let her be one with the Ocean. Let her soul swim free across the vastness of the sea.
I suggested that He send the most breathtaking sailboat he has ever created
So she wont lose her breath when she first sets sail across the waves of Heaven
Realizing they stretch out for infinity
Realizing
It's all for her to conquer.

I can feel you near me
Whenever you are close.
You're like an overdose on
E
My tank is on
F
I want to swim past your knees
And take one last deep breath before
Submerging myself
Into the salacious, incredulously insatious, Caribbean Sea-warm Oasis
At the apex of your thighs.
I will set sail ships in your eyes
Questing for you to magnetize me in the direction towards the destin of my fate.
The question is
Once I'm in
Can your Vaginal Strait
Navigate me
In the deep dark cavity of your hips
Or can your lips
Narrate
Irrigate me to the waterfalls of your heart
I want to split your valves apart and
Let
Love
Pour.
I want to anchor permanently on the sink-sands of your shores;
I want to be closer to you than I've ever been before...
I want you to feel me.

I'll study the demise in your eyes and wonder if there was ever a time that you cried
For your loss.
I'll copy and trace the structure of your face and realize that
I am you.
Then I will show you a picture of my Dad and tell you but
This
Is my father.
Your genome may construct the structure of my bones but
I am his daughter.
And I am my mother
And I wonder, if you'll find it any if at all meaningful-
When I look you in the eyes and ask you
How someone so ugly
Can create something so beautiful.
When God created you,
He created the creation of me
And all I know about my identity is that I'm half Haitian
But that limb fell off from my family tree.
I pray
That God finds it in his heart to love you
Because God doesn't love the ugly.
Fortunately,
My skin may be tinted from the sins that make me your kin
But from the outside in
I look just like my mother.
Do you remember what she looks like?
My name is Rissa Ann Perkins, and I hope that you can't sleep tonight.
I hope that you frame a photo of my face in your brain
And if ever again should you dream,
I hope you wake up screaming my name.
Are you ashamed?
I'm not here to blame you
I came to show you
Just. How. Beautiful. I. Am.
And I just have to know what it feels like
To know that
I
Am you.
You gave me life.
I am you,
And I don't even love you.
So I have to know,
Do you love yourself?

She grinds her worries up with the rest of her troubles
Rolling them up into a leaf double the size of her *******
Exhaling the pollution of the world back into the atmosphere
Suffocating the population with a final
*******.
She grinds her hips against the flesh  upon his lips
If her release is the time bomb
His licks are the ticks
And she drags him to her mouth with fistfuls of hair,
With one final kiss
She swallows his despair.
The night doesn't always have to seem so dark,
There's day light somewhere.
Even with the lights out
The sunshine of her smile
Illuminates the answers to his prayers.
Head bowed
His neck crucified between her feet.
He finds God
Belly button deep.
He takes her to infinity.
He takes her to nirvana.
Tomorrow, she can continue to **** the world
If she wanna
But tonight
He's inhaling the weight of the world off her persona
She places Jesus between his lips
Holy Marijuana.