Sometimes i cant b r e a t h e

and i think, maybe
there is water clogging the bottom
of my lungs

Sometimes i cant h e a r

so i try to take
the cotton ***** out of
my ears
and make the rush of noises
disappear

Sometimes i cant t a l k

when my words fall
over each other i
zip my mouth shut and
hope for the best

Sometimes i cant b e

who i want
to be
and i think
there is no
solution
to this

treat people
better then
the world
treats you.

The lines on your skin tell stories, my dear
And if they could speak
They would speak of the pain
Of the loneliness and heartache and betrayal
Of the emotions that came too strongly or never at all

Of the blood that fell like tears when your eyes ran out

But the scars are quiet now
As silent as you were when you refused to cry for help

Please
Let me read the words on the pages of your skin
The unfinished thoughts and the sentences cut short

So I can finally finish them
And give you the happy ending you think you don’t deserve

Beauty is all earth,
History, Her-story naught,
  .  .  .  Else sheer vanity.

They say that you are the lung of the world
An umbrella for the street light.
I know you can, and this I trust
Turn my bad habit into something of use
Unlike dear reflection, contemplation under
The stars.

At the concourse of many lives,
How much spite you must have caught,
I ‘hale a generation’s lot
Could I ask cleanliness that follows me
Into silence? Surely in the summer of its
Passionate body—
Surer towards its autumn.

my town
where wild flowers grow
between tram tracks.
there was a time when
it was hardly morning,
no bridge into daylight.

walls had ears,
neighbors had eyes
whispering behind the curtains
there was an emptiness in the guts
of the city
and poetry locked in the drawers,
Borges was read under the blankets
while Dostoievski was  a comforter:
demons were embedded.

yeah, people were clapping and smiling
watching the nub of history, numb
they had a life to live,
what can you say?

one day the radio
burst on in the streets
some were shivering in the attic
"we are free", they said
"we are free",
came the echo in trance

"shhhhh"! said others,
let us wipe the blood
don't disturb the sacrificed
so we can sleep
without dreams

it's Thursday in my town
streets are weary
and our souls are
slowly expanding