Eureka
My thanks to the man who tasted
cyanide and voiced his last Eureka.
“Almonds”
To the man who saw dragons
to be slayed with pen and sword
in windmills.
To the Danish Prince who said
“What a piece of work is man.”
Well, man’s a piece of work alright.

Did you ever think about how
men wear their ovaries on the outside?
Or how you can always win arguments with yourself
in the shower?
My boyfriend traces the edge
of my chewed nails as he asks
me what I am thinking about.

I’m thinking about the consistency of jellyfish
and how it compares to human brains
and the taste of nectarines, overripened
drawing fruitflies to picnic tables.
Maybe I see colors differently
and will never know that my blues
are only a midnight shadow of what they
could be and if I’ve never truly seen the color red.

And how after nineteen years
I still can’t tell if I’m a good person
or just faking really well.
And if that Chinese Emperor
who strapped rockets to his thrown
to find dragons
ever found any.
Did the chicken getting crushed while crossing
the road get him to the other side.
If I died young, could I motivate people
to be nicer to each other?
When did my grandmother die
and when can I ask my mother without her
crying?  There was a little girls skeleton
found next to her donkey in the ancient ruins
of an earthquake. There were several
different species of human alive at the same time
and my favorite color isn’t really blue
And I’m really glad I couldn’t ****
myself when I was 13 because I tasted
my first plum last week.  AND FOR THE LOVE
OF GOD
WHAT
AM
I DOING
WITH
MY
LIFE.
My happy moments will always outweigh the bad
And are my ***** uneven because
when I look down—
What are you thinking about?
Almonds.  They
taste like cyanide.

if i sit long enough
and let my mind
unwind all the
strange
coiled
menacing things
it contains
that i so often
shove into a blender
to make them easier to swallow
it'll say
*******
and i remember them perfectly
anyway.

for
instance
right now
i can hear
mom stuffing black
plastic-smelling
garbage bags
with clothes
in the hall
i can see the strip of light under my door
that bled through
at 3am
why
was it on
i never even
wondered
ever since
i have cursed
the lethargy
of 3am
if i had gone out and checked
i could have

                                                                        stopped
                                                                                                 her

oh
god
it hurts
so profoundly
to put that into words
to translate it from feeling
oh
god
i could have
stopped her
i could have
but i didn't
what if
i had
oh
god
i can't even
bear it

and then all those dead fruitflies
scatter across my mind
blown with the breath
of the dead
i was
walking into our kitchen
on the old
weird
cracked floor
and there on the
stained
blue table
were about six cups of half drunk
juice
from the kids bedtime snack
and there
in the center
were about 500
dead
fruitflies
in a perfect
circle
what the ****
were they doing there
i'll never know
i remember
asking mom
telling her how strange it was
but she wouldn't come
look
she just laid on the couch
her arm over her eyes
lying to me
without saying
anything
always.
the next morning
they were gone
i don't know what happened
but it was
strange

then suddenly
the horrible
nauseating feeling
will come again
rush in
uninvited
like an unwanted relative
sneak in
and take over
everything
it will eat me up
out of house and home
the thought
that

i

can't

remember

if she told me

that she loved me

before i went to bed

i was 18 then

but she always said it

anyway

worst of all

i cannot remember

if i said it back...

the last thing
you ever said to your mother
wouldn't you want it to be something like that
but i guess it wasn't
i probably even thought
about normal things
before i fell asleep
to the music
of my mother
leaving
i can't stop seeing
the scene
when i close my eyes

*******

memory

i know what i want to hear and i know what everyone is going to say but i can't subdue this heavy feeling in my chest and he was so different than anyone i've ever met i ******* miss it so much he made me feel like i was floating and he was holding me up he made me smile when i was angry at him and i was ******* happy to be angry at him i was happy that someone could hold up an argument with me and not back down when they were wrong i was happy that he was happy i was happy that when i told a joke he would laugh and he would remember and i was ecstatic that his life revolved around me just like how mine revolved around him

our love wasn't stupid and pointless like everyone elses, it was rooted thick in our veins and stuck in our heads to the point where it filled our dreams with chiche quotes and airborn fruitflies,

our love meant something,
it meant more than anything and everything,

it wasn't a game, but it was, we were always competing and complimenting each others personalities,

and i can honestly say that you made me believe in love, because my heart forever belongs to you and i cant wait until you come back and claim it..

it's waiting for you,

so please

find me

I left some dead fruit
  By the window ledge
In the hopes fruitflies
Would sprout and break free

  their torrid wings from the grapevine roots.

Instead, all I got was a smelly room

And grapes that hissed dissapointedly
As they crackled inward in the background
(rotting flesh now too heavy
to carry on stiffupperlipped).

How sunny it is outside. How much

  Sunnier the weatherman says it'll be
tomorrow. Atleast, I think with my last thought
Of the day,

Atleast I'll remember to get fresh fruit tomorrow.

Midnight- snack Guardian
Karate chopping fruitflies
Until the oatmeal is
Imbibed
Mmm derived right outta
The HIVE

Might as well be my time
Mine to Wreck
if I'm so inclined to
Walk a mile in/side my slip-ons

Try it
A light so bright
I could make
A wish on
Sonic Boom

Grab a snack
And watch it all
Fall down from your
Flatscreen