"Your ancestors left their Italy lands for a better
life here in the States.
They multiplied, shared their lives to make homes for
people of their same faith.
Planting many seeds to watch their gardens grow.
Their children were the flowers.
Many Italian Hearts will glow.
With you planted in Brooklyn.
It's beauty was of a girl whom iv'e grown to know.
Your gardeners nurtured you with love,
to make sure a **** would never grow.
In time, your Italian Heart traveled in distance to meet up
with mine.
Our friendship poured smooth, like a bottle of vintage wine.
Two glasses stay full up until this day,
because of your ancestors leaving their Italy lands,
and giving us a better way."

Welcome to America
     Where education is top priority
                   With the exception of football

Welcome to America
     Where we believe in world peace
             We also believe in the biggest military in the world

Welcome to America
     Where all men and women are created equal
                 But being gay is the greatest sin

Welcome to America
      Where we like to make fun of everybody
                 Just don't call us fat

Welcome to America
       Where we love our food so much
                We've managed to make it fake

Welcome to our great patriotic country of America
          We might as well be the only country in the world
               Seriously, if it wasn't for us, the nazis would still be in power

His dog died,
and that’s all there was to it.
Except it wasn’t.
Those words in between,
the missing of a friend,
the times relived;  companion
dog that did him in.  Joyful.
Bit his heart and made him write
such words so right,
that I went home
and kissed my dog
and played with her in the garden.
And we both lay down in the dirt,
and will again tonight, and every night.
Until she sleeps.  And I with Daisy.
All because his dog died.

r ~ 18Mar14

You haven’t lasted me
In a deathbed hollow
I closed my hands on nothing
But a phantom emotion

These flowers in free fall
With their withered stems
Drank their last purpose
When I severed their heads

You slipped your noose around me
And choked the breath away
I writhed for seven hours
And broke the dawn with a gasp

You scattered motes to the ceiling
And rode the sun’s first light
Sever your black wings
Wither my heart

Your childish lies have nothing of a true meaning
because you never saw what truly went on inside my mind.
The cogs were turning, but the wheels got stuck in the muck
that you had left behind when you decided that it was time to bid me adieu.
That child inside me broke
Like the Bay Lake dam that came crashing and tumbling down,
the waters swirling into the ever after.
Leaving me behind, alone, with the lonely company of the silt and the sand.
And then, I wept.

I panicked.

My brain attacked today.

It attacked my lungs,

Stupid sharp whistling sounds.

I looked out of control.

But I felt aware,

that I wasn’t breathing,

that I was attacking myself again.

It attacked my heart,

terrifying skipping stones in my chest.

Whipped one by one,

Muffled blows in my breast.

I panicked.

I looked out of control but I was aware,

of the guilt,

of what will drag along with me.

I can’t be freed from fault,

It’s not the way.

Because I panic;

is why I don’t relate,

is how I cleanse.

Fright being necessary,

like a dream

where you muscle tone fails you,

I was paralyzed.

My knuckles hit the laminate –

again, again, again.

But I don’t move.

Feeling my bicep twitch,

Feeling my throat raw,

My mouth wide open,

But I don’t make a sound.

Because I panic.

The power inside,

will never translate,

to the outside.

People may see flickers,

of insanity in my eyes.

They may see me tighten up.

They may seem me strain and ease.

But I will never translate.

Until it snaps,

Until I no longer attack myself.

Until I no longer panic.

Until I bellow,

Until I howl,

Until I wail,

Until I swing and connect.

Until it attacks outwardly,

Instead of inwardly.

I can't describe -
How the yearning hides.

How it waits
Until the dead of night,
To wear upon the mind.

A stiff wind broke the morning clouds. It was another gloomy sunrise, in a string of second-rate days. Kiera woke much like the sun, downtrodden and wishing to fall back down. She snapped down on the alarm, knocking it to the floor, and with two blinks was out again—back into a world she was beginning to recognise.

First the flooding darkness. Despite two weeks of this her body still rejected it. Her body hated it. Pathetic. Limbless shakes as the throbbing chill tore its way through her lungs, gripped her skin like sweat. She could smell the sharp stink of iron. When her vision came she saw her arms were covered in blood. A red too bright.

A figure she hadn’t noticed flickered out of her view. She turned her head sharply but saw no one.

Kiera realised she was walking. She held a square, brown-wrapped package, which would not stop squirming. As she struggled to keep hold of the ******* thing, ****** prints coated its sides. A postbox lay on the other side of the road—the same colour as the blood on her arms.

Kiera was furious. The ******* package would not stop squirming. She needed to reach the postbox before she dropped it. She was desperate—scared shitless. Why?

Kiera began to cross the road. Each step sent the package twitching, twisting. Her legs were bone thin. Her skin was shredding apart. Another flicker—edge of the vision phantom—appeared, but she barely noticed. The package was growing so heavy that her toes were breaking on the asphalt. She looked up and saw the postbox had receded.  How dare you? How ******* dare you, you *******.

She was on the wrong side. She had never left the sidewalk. How could she? She had no legs. Blood began to pour out of the postbox. It crossed the road, coating her torso, lapping the bottom of the package. The package stilled and began to deform in her hands. It was rotting.

Kiera had an urge to *****.