They broke me with the shadows;
Fears and uncertainty,
loss haunting me,
till hope turned towards
celestial possibilities.

They broke me with love;
One father figure
who I figure
has something better
for me.

They broke me with confusion;
Contradicting rules
cornering this fool
till, I submitted.

And when I didn’t,
they broke me with fear
and hellfire.
Till, I either died
or gave in
to their desires.

I put on my shades
Scratched lenses
Light tints
Cracked partly
To the left end
Speckled and
Slightly fogged

It is my mind guard
And I find time
Mine the mine fields
Of my imperfect mind

Visions obscured
Or misdirected
By my preconceptions
Ignorance and arrogance
Though most do not know
I can tell I am color blind

I close my eyes
massage my eyelids
see impossible impressions
of the pressure
become spherical
abstractions
distorted shapes
rippling in the void
of sightlessness.

Look how the water
sits.
Droplets
pool in
miniscule puddles,
comfortable positions
on this imperfect plant.

Petals gleaming, and bending in
the summer wind,
wearing light green,
soft, cool, and moist
orange and browns shades
surrounded by a pool
of random stones.

They wrap a bag in a big bad bow,
silk that sparkles in the day’s reflected wonder,
blue that shimmers and waits to plays outside.
Instead the bag hides a steaming pile.
I spit rage and bile cause that vile
package is just one
more piece of purchased *******
one more perfect present
to present
a fake pre-constructed sentiment
of pre-ordered individuality.
It is consumerism, our kryptonite,
which is slowly destroying
curiosity and morality.

To be seen
By amorous eyes
Feel the friction from
Those positions
Of paralleled affections
With her long and
Glamorous thighs
Soft curling tongue
Athletic with desire’s
Fevered urgency

To lap love’s
Pooling juices

To linger
With fingers
Rolling softly
Across her skin
Hear her sighing

To feel her flesh vibrating
Her breath climaxing
In unison
Then sated
After ***’s fury has abated

To speak and listen
While cuddling
What a wonderful
Weekend that would be

I will not succeed
and knowing such
sets me free to be me,
let’s my sails open
to solar winds.

Wings are ready to rise,
because I am ready to fall
ready to be drowned
in it all.
I can fly for now.

The old tree wears new leaves.
Green things gleaming and moving
dancing like a grass skirt
with the warm whims
of these soft summer winds.

I hear the train stutter
as it vibrates the whole block.
A conductor runs
those rusted cars
roughly across the tracks.
From the bank
I can see each car
with their random tags
from artists
all over this land.