There's this meadow, vibrant as can be.
I go there every once in a while, wondering what I'll see.
Spinning around my head are bees.
Buzzing around, fogging my thoughts
Where wonders of seas would be.

Looking up, I see hundreds of little white daisies.
And I think to myself how everything appears to be amazing.
But far into the distant, where the sunset's colors paint the skies,
There it is, the tales of the lies.

Once a happy young girl,
Impressed by the music of swirls,
is now failing to see the bright glow of hearts.
And the pretty white daisies in the vibrant wide meadow, are now surrounded by the buzzing of bees.

I fell in love at the age of eight with
the dramatic circus arts and the unusual
appeal of something so weirdly pure.
Some say it was destiny, but whatever captured
my heart that day fastened its unyielding
grip, and lured me back
to my forever home. With glitter
on my eye and the feathers cascading
down my pinned and curled hair, I learned
to soar in sequin-covered spandex. I found
my wings under the big top
in the popcorn-tainted air. Over the years
I have lent my heart to many,
but it will live forever under the circus tent.

You speak of your soul
As if it’s some piece of imagination
As if you never possessed the very thing that weighs you down at this moment
You lack the self depth, the self respect, to bring yourself to a higher place
And you blame it all on me.

You are so
vague
sometimes it
kills me
can you not
tell me things
can i not hear
your secrets
i won't
tell a soul
do you
not
trust me?
I trust you
without
really giving it
much thought
I should have
probably
thought this through
too late
I just can't help
but feel
like maybe
maybe I was wrong
I hate being wrong
and maybe
maybe I can't do this
maybe I'm lying to myself
maybe
...
maybe
we
really
are
better
off
as
strangers
maybe
i'm breaking
my own
heart.

I smell revenge.
It's your turn now.
Time for you to feel.
Although you may be superior.
I hear you weakness calling me.

I want to feel your blood all over me.
You will feel everything you've done to me.

Smells so good.
Feels so good.
I don't want this to end.
I don't want you to die.
I just want you to feel.
I just want you to smell.

Smell my revenge.
Feel your blood.
Do you like this?
Let's play again.

Skinhead
super short
military hair
with a strong jawline
jutting out

I saw you
One random
blindingly hot afternoon
In a jeep

I tried to squeeze in
the small space so the two guys
could scoot over

You’re the guy to my right
Reluctant to pass to the driver
my exact change

You sat upright
Your right arm lifted, hand
closed on the security rail

I could only see your profile
Your jawline and Aviators
Mouth set in a deadpan line

Lean, quietly confident
Dressed casually and carefully
Odd eggplant-colored shirt over
whitewashed jeans

You turned slightly,
your nose strong
chin dignified
skin clean, with slight
blemishes of stress
Pretty eyes
That never landed on me

Your lips slightly curved
as if remembering something

You are beautiful
Arrogant-looking
Bored
Worldly

You’re not from here
Not from common places
Not from this wretched community I belong to

Then my eyes traveled to the back of your head,
An inscription was tattooed
at the back of your skull.
Your hair growing, beginning to cover up
the past?
A dangerous past?
New life?
A mere change of look?

Where are you going?
Where are you from?
Why are you taking this route
to and from common places?

What is your agenda
on this high afternoon?

Are you a rockstar?
Are you a poet
A gangster?

Then finally it’s my stop.
I got up and wished you
were following behind
That we have the same destination
Just so I could look at you
in full view

I stepped into
the sad, bright afternoon

Then I turned around
You’re not there

You sped away
To some place
Some life
With your Aviators
And your principles


And it hurt
That I never even
knew what
your tattoo meant