you claim to be the sun

a lioness and goddess

born from fire and flames.


I do not doubt you.

your beliefs are your own.


yet do not be so contentious

so audacious to paint yourself

in such resplendent glory.


we both know better.


if you are built from ashes

why do you claim to burn

at the memory of me?


my ghost should not leave

scorch marks upon a goddess

of the sun.

These words written
are more understood and accepted
than the ones, I wear and speak.
My thoughts are tucked
safely in these words
than the ones I disclose to people.
My pen never
leaves
decieves
hurt
hide
and judge
like people do.
It just pours ink for me to craft
and offers paper for me to be listened.

Here’s another cigarette
I light in your name.

“What’s his name?”
I hear them say

I don’t even know,
But I know how you taste.

You taste like summer
With a hint of sweet red grapes.

her eyes are deep seas of wonder
always day dreaming
lost in clouds of thought
she's magical

I’ve seen myself in the mirror.
it’s one thing to acknowledge your existence,
and another to question your place in the universe.

I sleep with the television turned on.
While I scream, it drones.
I don’t think I’ve watched a minute of it in the last three years though, I’m glued to my phone.
We’re glued to our phones.

I don’t yell much anymore.
Lack of living has beat the life out of me.
I’d worry about what any of this means, but being chemically inbalanced means I’m prospectively challenged.
So I don’t worry about it.

Maybe tomorrow will be different.