There is something so sobering
watching her ****** take her life
not in the act but in labor

while a man who never felt the sting of labor
sits on TV
calls her a "host body".

She will never see eighth grade.

There is something cosmically profound
To be connected to someone across somewhere
With an invisible thread
And a string of words
The reader and the writer, both behind screens.

there were days
Where days ended with the sun
And yet now
Time exist only not as a limit
But merely informational.

Your love shows me the magic
That we brush aside daily
When we should be in awe of
That i am lucky I exist in a time where
You are one call away

you were always fussy
even when you were a child
but you had the world handed to you
on a platter of a mother's love
and a father who gave all his care
so much so, that I was left with nothing

You are young, raging like a storm now
and you carry yourself with so much rage
screaming and yelling like the emotions
are bursting through your eyes
You glare at me like the devil possessed you
but you were always fussy

and I know that hadn't changed.
So sleep now, brother
entitled rage can wait.

I didn't know poets can be so cynical
when he gazes upon the rose
he sees only the beauty that benefits him
but the thorns
remain a tragic muse

I didn't know poets can be so depressing
that a beauty of the sunset he chases
only to leave angry in the dark
because even the sunset could not inspire
a single gold worthy word in his blank pages

He doesnt know if he is a poet
or if he lies to make stories
until he can lie with such grace
nothing of his is him
he is a nothing, making himself to be something.

The way woman look at woman
like art
she glares first at her eyes
then at her nose
and the crinkles of her smile
the curves of her body
like an icy statue to be worshipped

you would never know
by the way she looks at her
how her thoughts
can lead her so astray.
Like art, that evokes a million emotions.

My mother loved fish cheeks
but it sits in my bowl every night
she smiles
I shove it down like a hungry wolf
Fish cheeks is simple; it needs no words.

Then I grew up
and brought friends over
"like Amy Tan's story!" They said
laughing at the fish cheeks
as my mother shrunk.

Fish cheeks are a delicate meat
its gentle, its warm, its self-explanatory.
It sits in my bowl, under the loving gaze of my mother.
If that is funny
then I dont understand the humor.

When the sun hits your hair
I see how it makes heads turn
like little rays of sunshine
dancing in your golden blonde hair
I sit at night
staring at the moon
and im not even the night sky
im your shadow
waiting to be picked second
because everyone wants the Sun