Do you ever feel confused?
Ever feel like you just don’t know?
Ever ask yourself if what your doing is right or wrong?

Well I know how you feel

Sometimes I wonder:
I want to be a stupid,
I want to get drunk,
I want to get high,
I want to make bad choices
But I don’t know how

They say it builds character
But they also say it will hurt you

I don’t want to be miss goodie-two-shoes

I just don’t know

All I do know is
That I’m confused

Victor Frankenstien went shopping through morgues and cemeteries and picked out only the very best features,
stitching them together with string and tape

the flowing black hair and the delicate pale skin,
it should have been perfect

but once the lightning struck and the creature opened his glassy eye the truth was revealed

you can't make a person that way
not a good one anyway

the hair was matted and the skin that looked so fresh on a corpse was jaundice

the monster was a monster by design, even if it was not intentional

I understand what it means to take what seems so beautiful on other bodies and stitch it together haphazardly trying to make something perfect

I have Victors hands, the hands that play god

but more than that,
I have the sickly skin and the glazed-over eyes

I have the very best things I saw in everyone else

a gentle angel with one million eyes to watch over her children,
I took her kindness
a wretched holy beast that could never be hurt, I took his aggression

I stole ideas and attitudes that resonated with me,
I stole the rebellion that I saw the righteous wear in books and on TV
I stole the heart that some sweet girl wore on her sleeve with faith in the world around her
I plagiarized, I became everything I thought was beautiful

with my Frankenstein hands I had created a self to live in, an idea to thrive in my useless body

I thought I could live as the perfect boy, the perfect person

but the ideas split off, still inside me
growing and expanding and bulging out of my skin
my bones crack under the weight of so many people within

the sweet, the angry, they were always at odds

a monster, a monster that lies in poppy fields and dreams about love

a sweetheart, a sweetheart that slices rats in half just to see what their insides look like

I am not the perfect thing I wanted to be
I am fractured like the bones I had to rip apart to make them fit

I am too little too late and too much too soon all in one,
not enough, never enough, far too much to bear

I am the god I swore was dead,
I am taxidermy animals that don't look quite right

I am fractures of what I wanted to be

I am Frankenstein
but
I am also Frankenstein's monster

I am a woman, but no ordinary one
Beautiful, talented, cheerful and young
Everyone admires me
But they don't know about me.
I got dark past and I am being haunted by it everyday.
I need someone.
I need a savior.
I need love.
And then I fell in love.
All i think of is him.
I know he's weak.
And yet I chose him.
I can do anything for him.
Even ****.
I can. I will. I must.
I'll do it for him, for us.
And yet at the end of the day, still I can't get him?
Still, he doesn't love me.
Why?
Why did it turn out like this?
I was broken.
And yet I chose to fight 'till the end.
Is this all worth it?
I don't know.
I don't want to ask.
I will just do what I can.
With this broken heart I will love.
With this ****** mind I will learn,
With this fragile hand I will fight.
For you.
For me.
For us.

---Shakazaqui 11-27-17

Sometimes I wonder of things that could be,
Things of old made new into realities,
No longer trapped in my infinite dreams,
Appearing as distant as the marvelous beams,

Holding my life together, carrying my shame.
I may have lost hope but never the gain,
Of experiencing fear and holding it close,
If you’ve faced risk then you’d know what I know.

Sometimes I think of the matters at hand,
If they matter to me all that much.
But nothing involves me so why try to touch,
The poison that fills me whenever I blush?

I don’t know of options, never had freedom.
Unsure of character or, just lack of good reasons.
But this I know and this I will share,
The moments of fear that only I can tear.

the curtains rise and all i can think about are the rows of faces that i know nothing about and the pressure of putting on a good show
my body moves according to muscle memory as the music starts to play

don't miss your cue
don't miss your cue
don't miss your cue

i hit each note and beat as needed, but that's just the first scene
you come up on stage once again the same time i do
and you look at me the way you were instructed to do so

don't break character
don't break character
don't break character

i deliver the lines as i'd internalized for
but little do you know i'm dying inside
we're told to look eye to eye for this one song
and i slide my fingers through the spaces between yours

don't fall in love
don't fall in love
don't fall in love

i braced myself for the last few notes of the song, but i braced myself even more for the reality that is to come once the curtains come down

i approach you offstage with every intention to tell you what i feel
but i miss my cue

i put on a strong face to show i'm not hurting
but i break character

i told myself i wouldn't let my feelings get in the way
but i fell in love

she's an island;

pale as the ocean mist
veiling the rugged shoreline.
with chubby freckled cheeks
framed by coppery red curls,
lashed up in fishtail braids,
or left loose in the salty breeze,
falling down to her shoulders,
broad and wind-weathered.

her laughter is the crash
of waves on the dock.
or the roar of the eastern winds,
that scour the northern seas.

Like a thief in the night,
It steals all of my things,
Searching for joy,
Parts never to be seen.

Like a thief waiting to ****,
It waits for its chance,
Not moving a muscle,
Completely still.

Like a thief in my life,
It steals my character,
It ruins my sight,
Clouding reasons behind why I try.

Like a thief in desperation,
It will steal them for ransom,
Being susceptible to the temptation,
Unaware of the reigning phantom.

Like a thief of my heart,
It begins its deception,
Always taking part,
Destroying perception.

Like a thief of the cold,
It makes you unable, old,
Instead of bluffing you’re forced to fold.
Wishing of poverty being foretold.

Like a thief in the day,
It turns your vibrant colors
Into,
Gray.

I have a bracelet made of black leather and a metal ring.
I've had it for two years.
I remember the day I first decided to wear it,
and I never took it off.

That bracelet became a part of me as I went through
family troubles and loneliness and the fact that
my friends were never my best friends.
But I will never forget my bracelet that stuck with me,
regardless of the circumstance.

It has been two years, and my bracelet is frayed
and tattered, but that metal ring still holds both ends together.

That metal ring, able to cope with all of that time,
held together probably one of the only things that
truly gave me character.

It wasn't about how that bracelet looked on me,
but rather what it resembled.

The black leather can no longer stay together,
and one day...

It fell off my wrist.

I will never be able to wear that perfect bracelet

ever

again.