next time you see me slit my throat
let my blood gush like it did on american streets
mute my screams like i did while the news got old
let your knife **** the silence and ignite the need for equality.

next time you see me pull the trigger on my foolish mouth
shut me up while i complain about my silver spoon
while children die of empty stomachs in the south
let the gun sound wake up people like me to reality.

next time you see me lynch my body
let it hang like decoration to show people that
the silent are like the violent
the mute are like police who shoot
the ones who are quiet while they feast on a meal
are like the crooked politicians who steal.

let my silence be the death of me
and my new found voice be the death of the thoughts of our enemy.



- t.m

Everybody always telling me
That I’m young
That I can do anything that  I want to
Should I be excited? Right?
But I can only think that I should die high

I’m so afraid of those feelings
Why I still killing me
Don’t leave me alone with me

But
If you stay by my side
I’ll break you so hard
So go away,
go away
I don’t wanna make you feel my pain

Don’t worry baby, I’ll be okay
Living with my fake face
My fake friends

I’ll be okay

I was a loner when i was born
I will be a loner when i'm gone
The good,the bad and the ugly....the highs and lows of life....
....i've seen it all
There were times when i wished i were dead
And then there were times when i had a ball
I've never had no expectations...coz whenever i've had one i've lost it all
Isolation's been my best friend
One misery in my life followed by another...that's been the trend
I once looked at the stars..
...How they seemed to shine so bright!!!...
....It's like they were making love to the universe
Out in the dark....in the open sky
Some in a cluster...
While some spread so very far
As far as my sight went..right up to the distant horizon
.....Beautiful assemblage of lights
Just looking at them made me high...
I guess we r all looking for that one particular face(the star of our life)..somewhere out among the stars.
Alas!!!... i don't have this luxury with me
SSHHH!!!!.........can you hear it??....
.....The serene silence of Death
..the bitter taste...the elixir that frees you from the chaos and confusion of life
I sometimes want it so bad....
Truth and falsity....hope and regret...they all find peace in death
As my body grows old with the advent of time
And my soul is but aching...
Life has reduced me to a caricature
...All i wish for is to go to that place of eternal sleep
...and for Death to engulf me in it's fury-filled grasp.

Roaming in the dark
seeking life to take apart
Once a creature with a higher purpose
But after your missteps you began to hurt us

Destruction is what you live for
You want us to suffer because of our nature
"Baphomet I know it's hard, you don't know regret."
Try to be logical avoid your hateful thread.
Helping you is like a deathwish;
we know the dangers but we still accept it.

There he stands the creature of deception
In the eye of the beholder, he makes no exception..

You died on a Monday.

Nobody likes Mondays.
But this day was the first of the longest week there has ever been
or will ever be.
Days dragging their feet like my heart across the pavement.
Please save your questions, comments, and complaints,
I'm trying to wrap my head around dead dreams and saints
Wondering
how the faint cries echoing through my insides
sound
to strangers
and soulmates.

You died on a Tuesday.

Such an unassuming day for departing
Nothing happens on a Tuesday.
Until her phone rang,
We were parked outside of our favorite restaurant
I heard the world flatline to the sound of traffic
We stayed in the car.
Now parked on the roof of patient parking,
Though I had never felt less patient  
wondering
How the ******* sun can shine when you can't even breathe.
I watched my mother cry until she wouldn't in front of you.
we COULDN'T in front of you.
I promised.
But we did.

You died on a Wednesday.

A day like a life, only halfway through and it's forgotten itself.  
Like I had forgotten the heaviest my heart has ever felt
was the night I looked into my sisters eyes
and spoke like doctors,
Wore the words "there's nothing left to do" like they had ever even come close to answering the question
WHY?
Which was the only one she could get out
WHY?
They said he could have up to a year
WHY?
Or as little as a week.

You died on a Thursday.

The day so wrapped up in the promise of tomorrow,
we can only ever think about yesterday.
Throwback to any single moment before this day.
Throwback to 5 days before
watching the irony of a birthday cake in hospice
While I wondered
how many wishes it would take to keep you.
Throwback to the moment that we were alone
when you grabbed me by the collar,
So tight and so close
I could smell heaven on your breath,
As you squeezed a plea into a whisper
Get
Me
Out
Of Here.
I was silent.
But I swear to god I was screaming at the top of my heart.
And I am sorry every single day
that I had no way
to wheel, walk, or wish you out.

You died on a Friday.

I had never been further from TGIF-ing
I was busy wondering why
and begging for your breath back.
You hadn't said a word in days,
your eyelids hung heavy like sheets off an empty bed,
but when mom would whisper our names into your ear
I watched every ounce of strength you had
stand shoulder to shoulder
forcing your eyes open in bursts
like the fourth of july finale
we could hear from your bedroom.
You were a god in each goodbye,
While the blue drained from each your eyes
for us to paint our days with.

You died on a Saturday.

I thought the weekend had a deathwish
showing up like it belonged in our bereavement,
like this week would ever end,
like it hadn't heard the news.
Every night was a silent struggle
we couldn't stay,
but wouldn't go.
The night before we had collapsed into a pile on hard-backed chairs
At the mercy of the nurses who didn't have the heart to make us go,
or just enough
to let us stay.
I didn't sleep a wink that night,
I was busy listening to the human hum of our family set to the slowing beep of your vitals
and wondering,
if the grass you'll lie under will know where it came from.
But this night,
this night there was a quiet compliance
an air of understanding in our war-torn bodies

besides,
nothing happens after midnight.
Until my phone rang.

You died on a Sunday.

You were holier than any day of the year.
I don't know if you let go
or if dying always feels like drowning.
Drowning.
Like I was in every drop of water your skin couldn't hold in anymore.
Like my mother was in disbelief.
Like my grandmother was in desperation.
Like my sister was in sadness.
Our family
drowning
And not one of us moving.


You died every day that week,
and you've died every day since.
You died on her wedding day
and at my graduation
You die on your birthday
and on every anniversary
and every single day that we have to deal
with an absence so great that it deafens.
And all I can do is wonder,
what the time difference is in heaven,
and how many sleeps it will be before I see you again.
I wonder if the angels recognized you.
And how you hid your wings
so well
for so long.

But mostly I wonder,
if you wonder too.

Southwestern Dis-United States of Memory*

Piñon smoke and sagebrush, voice of New Mexico night driving into an Arizona dawn rising over dreaming pueblos, low-ridden plazas, kivas and ruined cities’ rubble traced and highlighted by sunlight, Anglo angling into Aztec toward Zuni over arid zones… A to Z to El Dorado; a voice covers the high hills with a dusting of snow—every word hangs in the notes of the song: music to fall apart to, breakdown to, hurling the soul  into the bottomless well of psychotic nostalgia: *música de cavanga, falling into the depths. Melody pushing to the threshold of a bar and leaving you there with cash in your pocket and no ride home. The warmth inside beckons—you step across as the song fills, swells, intoxicates, then excavates the wall of the dam until it collapses. The fatal mistake: you read too much into the lyrics of shallow love songs. The deathwish beast of despair arises, the flooded plains dazzle your eyes, the Indian girl smiles on the rim of the grand canyon, the tattooed cholo pulls a knife in the trailer park, the dark waters under the bridge murmur and surge with regret; el río de Las Animas, Durango CO, Aztec calligraphy on the wall: Las Cruces, NM; Clifton, Morenci, Globe, AZ: stepped pyramids of copper tailings, gang-warred walls in fallen barrios covered in Chicano hieroglyphics, the ruined huts of shepherds and cowboys, pit-house dwellings’ flaked arrowheads and pottery fragments scattered forever in the coyote laugh of desert dusk. Crepuscular colors on the names of mountain ranges: Santa Catalina, Sangre de Cristo, Sandia, each one a separate sunset delirium—then you ride through the night to the city of palm trees and the orange-lined boulevards of Heaven.

The singer herself grew old but her YouTubes live forever.

every night I walk the dark
the burning headlights blinding
I pray to god id catch an eye
and in the street, they’d grind me.

deadly in love,

and substance abused,

turning mirrors into loss,

every night turning into you.

written words to signal stars,

always dreaming your eyes.

i cant help but feel so rotten
when it's all in order

feeling like i deserve the
tug of war between
depression & mania

like my life isn't quite as interesting
at baseline

and it may not be
but at least i can stomach it
for what it truly is