Stop
Laughing like that.
you sound **A bit
Pathetic.

Hide that smile.
hIde that frown.
Thank your lucky stars.

Steam from the shower
Clears the mind and
Reveals the
mArks left behind
because I am Too fair or
should I say Caucasian
looking, Hispanic
doesn't comE
acrosS clearly like the mind.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, to
Everyone but me
becAuse I never got
anywheRe on my own.

Here lies the secret,
Eat it like dessert:
All of this has been done before
Little doesn't even come close to describing me.

Melt into movement
Ease into enjoyment
kNeel into knowing
Drown in deliverance.

Scratch.
Cover.
Again.
Repeat.

Deep breath,
glance to the bed,
wonder how tonight
I'll wind up dead.

And if I'll have
a birds-eye view,
or a quick cut to black
before I turn blue?

The natural way?
A shark, a bear?
Or horror familiar,
a deeper despair...

This time will
the others survive?
Or must I watch their fate
before my 6-foot dive?

How many seconds
stirring, confused?
Until I realize
I've again been abused

by imagination morbid,
unbridled and cruel.
I'd rather try flying
than watching blood pool.

Unable to save
myself or others,
can't throw a punch
or hold my brother's

hand as he's pulled
into dark, into black;
just watching as I
sink deeper on my back.

A voice: stolen
two legs: un-moving
enemies: countless
slumber: un-soothing

I'm in for a night
after night after night
I've grown accustomed
to fight the good fight,

and see an army
of Me's at my feet
who've died for the cause
of dreams not sweet.

A glass of water,
a goodnight kiss,
prepared for battle,
in lonely abyss.

Unpleasant as it is
I try to be kind.
In a way, it's my home,
it's all in my mind.

Lonely in a crowd without the
         **One person the mind jumps to
         Violently, it isn't pleasant but
     thEn again lonliness never was

         Sun beams through a window
         Under a cloudy sky
         Barely warming but pleasing to
        iMagine how it might feel to
         Ignite from a cool flame, not
         To burn but to be on fire again

         Anger happens because we
         Can't not be human unfortunately
         Control happens too though.
         Every once in a while
         Prayer happens but we never
admiT it.

clover honey hair
iris pools of sea spray

soft moon skin
sunrise hands

bittersweet smile
faerie laugh

Andromeda shines
behind black pupils

a glance covers me
with morning dew

neck of dusk
and back of noon

silk chocolate fingers
red wine wrists

almond eyes closed
by snowflake lashes

a heart of sunset
and soul of crashing waves

Black pupils envelop your iris, and I wish
That I could forgive your caressing hand, and
our lips would reacquaint and release as we crease the sheets

With salty tears and reconciled sense, but silence
ensues after your massage; you get the message
and sink deep into the  bed, your head

turned away from my cold shoulder; and I'm caught, not
sure if my resignation was worth your shirt, my skirt
not being flung full force on the floor-- more

even to say we could embrace, your face
on the space between my face and my chest; rest
no more, I'm ready to supplicate! but Fate
would say, "your hearts sleep awoken and broken in a fight, tonight."

I can always spare her a smile
through my tears and
contorted face of anguish,
a light can shine through
my eyes to hers and I will
tell her without words
you are safe and I love you--
she smiles back, and so
I may look away and
again return to sobbing.

drip
drip-drop
drip
drip-drop
ka-thunk ka-thunk
drip-drop
CRACK!
ka-thunk ka-thunk
scrreeeech

like a badly tuned
but well-rehearsed
orchestra of
metal wheels on metal tracks
sticky doors admitting tired backs
intercom voice mumbles and cracks
rats paws patter and nibble snacks

and age old water drips, drips, drops
into age old puddles full of
age old trash in an
age old system of
public transportation

And the choir begins to sing:
"stand clear of the closing doors"
"yeah you'd better look away---
"clear the doors"
--you curly haired jew"
"59th street, stand clear of the--
"you *******"
--closing doors, please. 63rd street next"
"you think I feel sorry for you?"
"stand clear of the closing doors--
"I don't feel sorry for nobody"
--please"
"******* curly haired jew"
"stand clear of the doors"
"yeah you'd better look away"
"72nd street, stand clear"
"yeah, you'd better look away"
"stand clear of the closing doors please"

"81st street next. stand clear."

I feel so full of movement words
and language that skips and spins and slaps
as movement does
expression and silence and quiet screams
the tautness of my lungs
like in a dream when you can't
quite
speak

so full of wooden unopened doors
that lead to dusty rooms
with sparse shards of light
coming in through boarded up windows
from the outside that is my imagination
but it, too, has a yellow sun

and aggression that leads to unsavory thoughts about
people I don't know
who don't deserve my tightness coming out at them
through narrowed eyes behind a blank expression
just because I can't break the dam--
make a pinprick hole in my brain balloon
to relieve the pressure of my chest bursting at the seams
with angry love for everyone I don't know
but I do love them
don't you doubt it

and in my fullness I question
what it is that all in there was made to do
to write or dance?
and maybe do I want to sing?
pen music, words, be on a stage
or behind the curtain, mouthing what is heard
is that the needle? with which
I can make the hole
to empty out the art
that causes so much tightness
that I can barely close my hands,
my fingers can't come together

and then I want to paint so fully
that I don't need a canvas, I have skin
and can't I be a moving dancing writing painting?
that sings her own lyrics badly
and plays an invisible piano with dexterous fingers
self referential to a painful fault
whose badness screams
THIS IS ART
because, why is it not?
and it empties me out
I am no longer taut

That which consumes you,
let it eat you whole.
Open your mind
for it to be devoured,
even if it comes from
the blood in your veins,
paint the picture.
And give yourself away for free,
to be broken by love.
Die by it,
if it's the last thing you ever do.

Two sparrows descended upon
food left atop a picnic table--
bread crumbs and
chicken wing bones
not picked bare yet.

And the birds ate the birds
with zeal and their familiar,
innocent sweetness
and I wondered if they knew
they were cannibals.

And if they knew,
I wondered
if they would care.

Our face speaks
The language of nuance

Our bodies are fluent
In passion

choked cries are the liberated
Voices of pain

And hands the messengers
Of desire

Spoken word the refuge
Of a race too frightened
By such pure communication
Diluting speech to seek
Diplomacy over truth
Security over vulnerability

I hear her voice
the child inside,
coming in through
the static of
my constant critic
radio, she's been
screaming 'that's enough,
that's too much!' for
so long, she's been
hurt, she's been
wronged by a louder
sound I'm more used to tuning into,
the station of
doubt, fear, suspicion,
so much I've lost sight
of how much those
words sting,
bring
me down, tear me up,
convince me that I'm
not enough.

I think in causing
this initial pain I'm
saving myself from
the surprise of my
own mediocrity,
but living with a
lead coat on to
protect me from
the bullets of a
battle I'm no longer
fighting, it just
weighs me down,
till I'm ready to
give up, and I think
what's the point of
sparing that pain in
exchange for a less
humane option?

The glory of busy
Isn’t lost on me
The shame of time
Seeps down like rain
Drenching my lank hair
how dare you have
The luxury of restlessness,
I whisper to me.

The way my hands wring
And feet tap, toes cringe,
Teeth bite dry lips
And eyes glaze over
With this lack of action,
I feel my body revolt
When not called to duty,
To serve, to provide
To do the most.

Shivers travel down
My spine, enter my heart
Pumping electric blood into
Shaking limbs,
Quivering muscles
Empty throat and squashed
voice box, ears
Ringing, singing
Jingles to myself
In disgust and fun

I need help.
Save me from
The indignity of a frozen
Mind and a body too stiff
To act upon all
Those tasks that could
Make me so perfect,
fit and thin
Clean and together
All gathered into one
Human who didn’t forget
How to exist in the moment
Because what might I do
With the next?

the words stopped coming.
not to my mind,
but to my mouth--
forming in the chamber of teeth and tongue,
out with my breath,
into the air(
creating)
what we call
'voice'.

bottled up letters
filled my brain to the brim
like a stack of  tethered
dictionaries
that mildewed
and smell of
doubt and old dogs
with no new tricks.

the gathered dust
on my lungs-- look
closely enough it is
alphabets upon alphabets--
the unspoken sentences
my heart forged
and mouth rejected, swallowing
them back, crumbling
them into
a graveyard of lost
thoughts,
killed by the fear
of being an unsolicited
opinion.

Intelligent is less than what we
Need, remember this is your body
Agency only to change more
Delight in hardship
Evolve during a single lifetime
Questions are for the slow
Understand to obey, not to comprehend
"Active lifestyle," synonym for
The never-
Ending diet.

If I wrote in rhyme,
with satisfying time,
would you like it?

Does it comfort you
seeing stanzas of two,

And is it pleasing
without any meaning?

Do you mind it?

And if I were to stumble
on my own words and
my thoughts crumble
beneath the structure

of beautiful nothingness
and regress

to complexity that resembles more
the disjointed thoughts of our souls
the pain and ugly in our hearts
the way we might actually speak (gasp!)
and think
and hope
and hurt
--is that not beautiful enough
for your poetic sensibilities?

If not, I understand
and will no longer clash
my words like waves that crash
on the unforgiving sand.

You may find much to see,
but this poem means nothing to me.

I hold my pen in
A grip too tight, no
Accidental slip from
This hand that lands
******* the page, a
Stage set for greatness,
At least that’s the hope,
Feast your eyes on
This masterpiece, cries
Of delight release from
Lips who mouth my
Words soundlessly, an
Unheard hymn to
Sing praise to me,
Raise me up, cup
Your hands to catch
My rain and drink
Of me, stain fingertips
In ink, sink teeth
Into these sentences
Like meat and tear
Me from the bone,
I grip my pen too
Tight so that you might
Delight in the pain I write,
See yourself in me
And be the light
That shines on we,
This is now our
Experience, we’re in
This together, feathers
On the same bird
That flies over water
Always looking for the sand
To land upon, I’ll beat
Our wings if you’ll
Promise to find your need
To read me, listen
To my monologue in
Your head as we
Search for our homestead,
I grip my pen too tight
To keep us aloft,
Our bird in flight.

Faith in our connection
Acceptance, direction flexible
Thoroughly affectionate, enjoying
Heralding the strengths of others
Eliciting the best in yourself,
Rarity in curiosity and joy
Loyal, steadfast, logical
You bring a sense of hope and love.
…..
We share much in common
In humor, disposition, energy
Stay with me, I said over again
Dad, stay, come home, be here
Over again, I have desired your company and
Moreover again, you have been with me.
…..
Find me hiding behind curtains
Remind me of my strength
Intelligence and heart
Erupt into laughter and wipe my tears
Next to you, safe and warm
Delighted in, genuine
Loving eyes light up over clasped hands
Your signature sign of overwhelming joy.
…..
Before, now, and later
Layers of friendship bind, and
Into the light of futures unknown
Say you'll be with me,
Stay with me, I say over again.

You're beautiful, girl
more than you know--
the world screaming in your face,
it's hard to hear love at your ear.

you're young, not 'too small'
you have deep eyes, not a 'funny stare'
and into the glare
of the hurt and used,
stand stand stand
smile and be kind;
'everyone' includes you.

All skin has color
it's a lie to say 'white
as it is to call 'black'--
rejoice decoration
on everyone, which includes you.

Express with your face,
your voice, your arms--
it's not too long before
you'll silence yourself for
something you cannot name, only feel
and into the glare, stand stand stand,
be strong, be real.

I allowed my heart to be battered
by more than just myself
which was already too much

Don't pummel your heart
don't tell yourself lies
don't torture your mind
and begin to despise

don't relish in tears
don't scratch, pull and cut,
don't grab at the 'fat'
don't give in to that

you think it sets you apart?
it only sets you 6 under
along with the rest
of the dead souls blessed
with bodies they hated to death.

Unknown, my hands
Wring and pick, I
Stick myself firmly
In the unknown, the
Places, the faces of
My future acquaintances,
The footsteps that will fall,
Small, unsteady, unknown
But ready, I walk,
To fly, to arrive,
I contrive this plan
Of unplanning, of
standing to face unfamiliar
space and sound, the
Ground beneath unknown,
Blown winds of seas,
I flee my home for the
Unknown, that I may
Be shown how little
I've grown, how far I've flown
To confront myself,
The true unknown,
Never out but in,
In, within my heart the
Uncharted map of
Blood and bone.

they'll miss you, but
how much, really,
and for how long? she
says this to me
almost daily, the part
that yearns so much
for rest she considers
death a vacation.

it's for them, always
for them, that my
hand stays shaking but
away from that bottle
of little white saviors,
and I sacrifice myself
every time I think
of those who might
miss me but not
very much, kiss me now
but kiss someone else
later, they'll benefit
in the long run.

when can I be done?

What a cruel existence
to be one original artist
among millions

at what point is it redundant
to be unique,

and when will it be novel
to be ordinary?

when creativity became common
brilliance, typical

artistry achieved
at infancy,
and the minimum standard to be
a prodigy.

the least you can expect
is a breathtaking performance

and the most you can hope for
is a biography.

I miss you,
meaning,
I romantically picture
our finest moments
of conversation--
we laughed together,
you embraced me,
I swear I saw
your eyes sparkle
as they looked at mine,
and I get the feeling
you like me,
which almost makes
me like me.
so when I say
'I miss you,'
I think I mean
I miss liking me.

when is it cute
and when is it not
to not give you exactly
what I know gets you hot

to reject the question behind
your eyes and deny,
push away with both hands
and step back spry

to see the care
you're asking for
and let it drop steadily
to smash on the floor

mind your own needs
and swallow your pills
i can't be your throat
you have your own free will

to walk so far
away from me flat,
you won't need to look
on this ugliness that

refuses you
just for the sake of it
slaps you in the face
just to see if you'll hit

and then when you do
i'll have reason to run,
would it still be my fault
when it's over and done?

push you to the brink
while i sink behind thoughts
of how unbearably cold
this love is, i've wrought

Fighting with an aching body
and doubtful mind,
protesting muscles are no match
for a warmed heart,
but make me crumble
when fear enters.

There is a wall,
but I haven't hit it
yet.
Give everything still,
expect more
love more
open more
be more.

Vulnerable to important eyes,
I do this on purpose?
There is no cheating;
it's an honest profession,
of tricks over lies.

And now my heart is a closet
and the wardrobe is diverse
but so much goes unworn.
So when to dust off
that confidence dress,
and lay to rest
my suffocating overcoat?

My heart is a closet
when it could be a park--
it could be anything.
This is my metaphor,
and I chose closet.....
THAT is why I'm a closet.

But now

my heart is the sky.

My eyes are the stars
my hands are the earth
my mouth is the sea

my legs are the trees,
their roots and branches,
my arms are the wind, the clouds,
the thunder, the lightning, the rain.

My pelvis is fire,
powerful, flexible, enticing and necessary.

In my metaphor,
now that I am life itself,
I can live.

Where are my words
When I need to speak out?
Gone is my ability
To articulate, whisper, shout.

Where is my 'no'?
My 'don'ts' , 'can'ts' , won't flow.
And where is my 'yes,
Yes, yes, please, let's go'?

Where is my honesty
Brave kind and true?
Hiding being the fear
That I won't be loved by you.

If I say 'look here
At my scars and stains',
What more will I be thought of
Than a list of my pains?

Shortcomings proving
Ineptitude and reason
That I have no business here
Or there, too unseasoned.

I start to vanish
Behind a false picture
Of who you want to see,
Complete with all fixtures

Of a well-spoken, anxious,
Nail-picking woman-child,
So terrified of yelling,
Always taming her wild.

I love to love fiercely,
Proudly, loudly, undaunted.
But reciprocation is fleeting,
I'll never be that wanted.

These are the words
I keep to myself,
They've gathered inches of dust
On my mind's endless shelf.

Collections and volumes
Professing learned truths,
Lessons unintended
Throughout all my youth.

There's something wrong with me,
Inherent in my veins.
All whom I love will leave
As marks washed away by rain.

Where is my power,
My comfort and ease?
To be enough for myself
Not needing to please.

Where's all my joy
In the blessing of being?
I've spent it on others
To keep them from fleeing.

Where is my love
For the body I'm in?
It's time to explore.
Its time to be more.
Its time to begin.

I don't believe you when you
say you were just asking
a question, no reason, tasking

me with an answer for your
nothing inquiry, cancerous
doubts form about your intent,

time spent wondering what
you meant but you said you
were just asking, well what

does that mean? unseen
motives lurk around every
corner of my mind, I'll find

your reason, interrogate
every suspect thought,
detect and untangle the knot

of lies in your absence of
motive, but you asked me,
didn't you? and when you say
for nothing, is that true?

Wonderful
Is
Literal, describing you.
Lovely,
Is what I feel
Around
My love.

If you look closely,
you'll see my soul speak.
peel your eyes and watch--

the subtle jaw and fist clenches,
rise and fall of the chest
shiver up the spine
listen carefully
my soul speaks--

tongue pressing to teeth
chin lifted, eyes down
elbows bent, knees locked
these words
become phrases

tears welling, not falling
hips swaying and popping.
heart pounding, neck retreating
I've spoken whole novels
in these articulations

to know oneself, stop talking.
your soul speaks in your body:
start watching