birthed into a golden birdcage
safe behind upstanding spindles
endless nectars and suet at your beckon
knowing only the showcase of your plumage
and the sound of your tunes

layers remain
between you and the grackles
painted a nuisance
yet they stay unshackled
only poisoned and disregarded.

still they know the freedoms
not found atop
swings and perches
dig deeper
until you find what lurches.

the gate can be opened
when you realize yourself
to be the gatekeeper
yielding what's mine
using wings of more than feathers
making up for lost time.

looking back at the captivity
you couldn't see from inside.
entering a new world
with the grackle as my guide.

Poison is a woman's weapon-
venomous like a snake.

It won't **** you
all at once
like the brute force of his hands.
Instead, it takes you slowly-
deteriorating your sense of self
making you wish for death.
Death that brings end to dying.

she has no moral qualms
when it comes to you and all your wrongs.
she only knows betrayal
and that's enough for her.

there are those who live to see
and those who live to be seen

myself, i'd like to know
so I can placate my perils
of indirection and indignation.
to douse the flame of uncertainty
and quench this abysmal curiosity.

when the day ends,
I don't know
whether I see or am seen

my faith will falter
my ache won't alter
the afflicted anger
Still hoping it will waver.

it's a cosmic correction
     to live a little slower-
        be a little closer,
           live where you are,
              take care of your home-
                  and your home's home.

      To look into each others' eyes-
         no need to fake a smile
           can't see it anyway.
              You can't mask the tears
                      or the smize

           what if it's a hyper alteration
                       to change course
                                 ...

daughters of pageant queens
like them you
             want
          me
       to
   be

i come from a broken gallery
on display for
                           no
                               one
                                      to
                                           see

You're my September sun
I see you're there
You show up every day
but still I'm cold
Shivering in your light

the universe is a hall of mirrors
reflecting my anxieties
refracting my good intentions
indifferent to it all

tumbling around in the density
over and over again
trying to see it through
but only seeing through you
be gentle when you're chipping away
i want to hold it together

propagating eternally

There it lays,
my tear soaked
pillow case.

In clouds unseen
where they visit me
every night since thirteen

What am I to do
with no avenue to pursue
when they deny my inhibitions
and tell them they're forgiven?

I see what I can't change and
I can't change what I see

I want to want their vision
of tender, loving, harmony
but it feels like swallowing poison
treating my actions remorsefully.

I take each day
one at a time
unyielding to divulge
what comes to me as I lay
every night
on my tear soaked pillow case.

looking inward
a molten metal
of iron ore
smoldering rigid
covered by blackened ash
brightened by the wind

the only light i see
is when the embers glow
and the brighter it shows,
the faster it goes
but i'm okay with that
because it's just another
mark of the ego

your gunpowder steel
on my sycamore blues
haunted by vanity
on a string just out of reach
escape the perpetual debt
we have to our makers
captive in sun strewn streaks of shade
never to feel the warmth of its gaze
willingly judged by sunburnt noses
for being less than
I just want to sparkle
in the ultraviolence.

It
    changes
                   colors
                               but
                           it
                   may
                            as
               well
                        be
           what
         it
      is.

fireflies
wild flowers
growing in the rough

let them grow
where they go
thriving sure enough

looking up at the popcorn on the ceiling.
watching it dance, groove, and jive.

wondering if I'm imagining this too
and what it even means to be
alive.

the waves of goosebumps come and go
and I'm a little cold
from the AC I keep too low
so that I can hide under a blanket.

I'm wide awake and I just--
don't want to be.
Laying aside a mount of realizations
surreal under the night sky

I don't know what to believe
I really don't and--
if I don't think this way
then what's there to even
think?

What will they think of me and
who will I become if I don't think
what I do.
What then will be my problem and
what will I need to doubt?

It's insane--
and I'm going insane
knowing it'll all go in vain.

Anxious.
Feeling insufficient.
Knowing I'm insufficient.
Wanting insufficiency.
Not quite sufficient.
Comparing and contrasting.
Contrasting.

Wanting acceptance to be my most authentic self.
What is my most authentic self?
Where do I find her?

Focusing on the next milestone.
Getting there and doing the same.
What do we meet at the milestone?
Will be happy will be content will be accepted will be winning,
at the next milestone.

How do you live in the present moment?
What is the present moment?

Quiet in my velvet dreams
gleaming with beauty queens
ultraviolet veneers
under crystal clear chandeliers

Awake. Never quite getting the reckoning.
Instead you're beckoning
me to your charade of promise
but I'm stuck in the forest
where you're my Charon
following me to the limestone,
dragging me back to the gates
and I know you mean well, but it doesn't resonate.

I've abandoned all hope and entered
Feeling like I've surrendered
What is it I will remember
when we get to November?
Biting my arm
in moments of harm
or
braiding my hair
with you just being unaware?

It all seems silly
like a grand facade really
where I can't see why anyone
can buy into becoming a chameleon.
Why take it so serious
when it just feels delirious?
What is it we're racing to
at the end, it's the same view.
Who is it for?
I really must make sure.

Waiting for my Virgil
To guide me through the hurdles.
He's no where to be seen
as I choke on my amphetamines.

standing in
a desert with
train tracks in
front of me
and
a train
endlessly
passes
with windows
facing me, and
doors facing
the oasis across
the tracks.

as if i was
meant to see
the passengers
playing Parcheesi
& preparing
to walk
the lush
green grass
and drink
icy cool
margaritas
where i
can't reach

- - -

i'm burning
in the heat
& my stomach
is churning
the sand
i swallowed
down my
sandpaper throat.

i missed
a train that
everyone i
know
has boarded
& i can't
get on a train
that won't
stop.

i don't know
why i didn't
buy a ticket
i never
knew about.

and now,
it's too
late.

how did
everyone else
know
to stand
in line?

why am i
the only one
who isn't
on this train?

i want
to join
them.

praying for
a reprieve.

how i long
for the
cool scented breeze
under the
tall palm trees
where they are.

wanting to be seen,
wanting to be heard.

   all I've ever wondered,
   all I've ever learned.

      is that it's too much to ask for,
      that it's too much to give.

why then do you take from me
in every hour of your need?