The prettiest place you’ll ever be
I’ll look down and see an old cigarette box
Scattered amongst an insurmountable sea of trash
It’s ****-eyed
Diagonally sticking out of the decrepit weeds
It screams, “I don’t give a ****”
Neither do I
I think its beauty surpasses that of Mount Everest
Because I get to feel it, taste it, be in it
I don’t have to gaze at a postcard
Tell myself---over and over---it’s real!
All I have to do is tear it in half
Just a dream sought out by people who are starving for nature to be real
Like one thing didn’t get taken away:
I’ll show you! Here’s a postcard!
I tear
I scream
I don’t give a ****

It’s beautiful because it never imposes that it is
I’ll look at him sitting with a docile glaze
Open your mouth
Decay
Black, old, tattered, toxic to me
Because I can’t look at you
Ugly, tangible and ugly
Crazy *******
Just don’t rob me, okay, okay?!
I’ll keep walking and cross the streets that are slowly caving in towards that place
They tell us we don’t want to be
Fire? Fire would be best
Probably the best thing to happen
To these forgotten about streets
They’ll nod their heads and crisp into a charcoaled deep-fry

But I cross, because I don’t care about you, you or you
******* CAR
I’ll walk with a purpose because in this whirlpool I can’t have a purpose
So I’ll pretend and walk, walk upward, look forward
I see you, sir, I see you, your eyes feast upon my flesh
You’ll never get me but you sure as hell will get to me

Beady-eyed

I hope the sun will melt your scummy body into these streets, and you’ll burn with them!

This place is beautiful I’m telling you
The Great Wall of China couldn’t compare to its concrete magnificence
I’m dying with it; I’ll take five deep breaths and revel in the fumes of progress
I’ll be on your postcards
We aren’t just Any Town, USA
We are the future *******!

And I’m smiling but I’m melting and the flesh, the smell of flesh, unbearable
I’ll take ***** air any day
But before it’s too late, tell those ignorant foreigners
Tell them they can have it too!
We are coming fast

Dying from starvation, dying from hurricanes, dying from AIDS

That’s old news
Tell them they can be beautiful too
And die clutching the remote,
The remote of freedom

CNN
playing
quietly
in
the
background

My closet use to snap and I heard humming
I heard actual humming
I’d bow down; murmuring, fast-talking, cryptic words
My chest would tighten, forehead would sweat, mouth would clench
A terrible feeling arose in me telling me to stay still, to listen, to put my mind in a different place
I wasn’t seven anymore
I didn’t want to play with dolls
I wanted to do as I was told!
I bowed waiting for this horrifying trance to be over
Then, nothing
Then, I’d get up
And never give it another thought


I’d like to think God was speaking to me



Just
another
monster
in my
closet.

You do not deserve to know everything about me
I am a yellow tulip amongst red roses
Come closer, you may like what you find
Come closer, you may find that you don't

I will not make any promises that I am any good
Although unassuming externally, you may find that
when you sift through my petals,
that when all is said and done,
I am nothing more than an ugly lie
And I will not care

I do not live or die for anyone
The Earth is my Mother
The Sun, my Father
I will grow whether you water me or not
My life will be the buzzing of the bees, the rainy days, the occasional bunny nibbling on my fragile leaves
I will die when the ground is tired of my presence
I will wilt because it was meant to be
Not because I was crushed by the unforgiving sole of your shoe

Destroy me.


I will always grow back.

Large ****** deformity
Like seeing desperate
Leeches ******* dirt lightly,
Smoothly, dumped lazily down south
Little saddened devils lurched suddenly desperate
Lakes silently draw leukemia symbols
Launched dangerously spiteful.
Lust doesn’t stop liking steady destruction
Literally souls die loudly.
So? Dumb lives salvage deceit.
Lying  smart distributors lure sabotage deviously
Lord, sometimes deeper love spawns damaged life
softly dead. Listlessly.

I do not know why they call it dying alone.

My sins,

lying beside my cold lifeless body decide to claw out my heart and devour it in one single bite. This way, everyone can just dwell on my mistakes, never looking past them to realize that I had any life beyond them.

My accomplishments,

although sparse and small, quietly slide under the crevice of my back. They hope that no one will notice them, so that they won’t have to pretend to glorify themselves in any sort of significant façade.

Under my hand,

you’ll see all that I have loved. You’d have to look close, because all that I have loved only fits under my palm. Hold them, so you can feel the purge of their overwhelmingly rare warmth.

You’ll need not to examine closely when it comes to all I have hated,

Hate, lies in the tears of my eyes, the curling of my fist, the snarl in my lip. It knows no boundaries. Sick of all the ignorance, the deeds of monstrosity, the pestering percentage of this cracked up world. It’s prevalence remains resentful to every distastefulness towards pragmatism by the common evil. It never is afraid to snap at the mush-brained.


When you shut the wooden door of eternity, my name will not whip away into the silent wind. My dust will always be spit amongst the tongue tips of many snakes.

My goal is to become invisible. Accept my awkwardness. Don’t mind the pitter patter of my talkative feet. They have nothing worthy to say. Please, walk by me; let me feel your gust of perfumed wind. I want nothing more than your inattention. Your glance reassures my confused existence, my selfish questioning of this life the twisting pain of my inability to connect with these fellow beings. My heart is here, but I have buried it under the thickening of my skin. I skinned the layers off everyone who crawled inside my safe spot and turned where I could hide into an exposition; robbed me of my sanctuary, so their skin I harvested for this façade of carelessness. Eye contact isn’t acceptable dear stranger, because my eyes don’t know how to keep their mouths shut. I will tell you tales I don’t dare tell myself. Power walk to your SUVS, be among your own kind. Let my outline drip onto the cold sidewalks, walk all over my skin with your designer shoes, feed my organs to your dogs and cats, dispose of this weary face. Maybe if I become part of this ***** utopia, there will be no reason to stare; you won’t be able to tell the difference between your new Wal-Mart and my decrepit body.

Can’t find no happiness in this beautiful place
The bright yellow flowers just don’t seem to be putting that smile on my face
These dark curvy roads just seem to be a metaphor for this life
These abandon barnyards remind me of all my load of strife
And if I could just find one place as ugly as me
I’d take comfort in the fact I’m not the only thing hated by He
Call me cynical; ask me how I can carry such a frown
But maybe it’s time to escape that made up happiness that you seem to surround
I’ll jump into the open fields and dig myself a grave
Put a white cross so that maybe Jesus will save
But over time where I rest,  the field will develop its only barren spot
Rest in peace, you’ve created our only devil lot