she serves silence,
it lies on the tongue
like ash.
her quiet cuts
jagged,
tears the hem of my heart
I unravel,
and she throws my words away
with burnt-black peppers.

skool alert (a short poem)
school starts in 13 days.
A thousand kinds of torture
in a million different ways.
You work and have a boss
who's awful hard to please
In school, have 6 bosses -
you think that that's a breeze?
Virtual school's the worst
like school without the fun.
No flirting, dates, or parties
It's good training for a nun.

Corona virus pickup lines...
Hey baby, I'm still employed.
What's a girl like you doing anyplace? Seriously, ***? Go home!
You're hotter than medically recommended.

thoughts..
Don't fall so in love with sad poems that you become one.
Today is both the oldest you've ever been and the youngest you'll ever be

I'm sure waterboarding is all they say it is but try and take a rubber band out of your hair you used for a quick ponytail.

That old monster school is rearing its ugly head.
School (11th grade: virtual) starts in 13 days. sigh
School doesn't teach life skills - but I can solve a parametric equation.
Age doesn't define maturity any more than grades define intelligence.

Friends joke with one another:
‘Hey, your dad’s dead.
’Hey you’re poor.’
That’s just what friends do.

Watching my mom on the computer and thinking
Why did you do THAT?
Why are you using Internet Explorer?
Your caps lock is on.
*** you're so SLOW.
You don't need to double click THAT  sigh
Is this is going to take ALL DAY.
MOVE AWAY - LET ME DO IT.

I want to love you
Like an Iron Maiden
Loves a poor, unfortunate soul
I don’t want you to leave
My embrace, no matter,
How hurtful and ******

we tried to bury the dead
clawing at memories
hard as beet roots,
garnet colocasia,
rotting,
manicured nails in caked film,
dirt and violet water
whimper séance spells
at our ankles -

I tried to listen
but did not understand -

were we burying sorrow,
or digging it up?

Sweet talk to me babe,
It’s magical,
sweet --

Nothings whispered in my ear,
Your fingers find mine in the darkness
And I can feel your heart thumping
Through the surface of your skin

That feels like soft petals drifting on a spring wind
Windy days are the worst
I feel light enough to be blown away
Away from you and from the past

Past the houses, people, love
Of the times when I was truly happy
Happy that I was not happy
Happy that it was imperfectly

Formed through the few months I knew you
But did I know you? I didn’t
How can this be true
I loved you
I really did

I can’t do this
I can’t write anymore
I feel the pain from you
And tears welling up in my eyes
And now I really feel like
Maybe there’s no turning back
Maybe I will be stuck like this forever and ever
For all the things I could have done and didn’t do
Because I was scared, naive, stupid
Not good enough
I’m never good enough
Not for myself, not for others
My crushed dreams wilt in my heart
And cry rivers of blood
They threaten to choke me
When I least expect them
Someone help me
I can’t get out
I cant
I

you smear haldi,
groping the fish
like a beggar grasping at coin.
each fleshy slice
similar to tree rings
smothered in salt
and cast into the plastic
tuberware casket
blood still red near the bone.
already you fantasize
about every delectable dish
mustard seed on your tongue,
meanwhile, I stare at the eyes,
not queasy
but uncomfortable,
scales clinging to my shoes.

at every err
the rim of his voice ignites
a flame bickers at the edge of reason.

you see,
he casts blame
like the sun casts shadow,
each complaint
as complaint as a mother tongue.

could have, should have, would have
I toss the words away
into the tones of the sea,
and hope to pluck
resilience
from that same shore.

On the daily

yesterday she said:
you talk too much
please don’t tell
the truth,
your aspirations or your dreams
to anyone,
they just want gossip.

but -
today she says:
talk, why don’t you?
so rude to not even utter
a single syllable.
at least try to speak.

kilos of misunderstandings
burden my tongue
all her word taste of salt
that won’t dissolve,
but I wait,
expecting one day,
she’ll offer sweet wine.