my mother sees purple
because purple lives on her flesh.

she has stains
from shoulders down.
they scatter across her back
like pressed grapes.
the juice squeezed out of them
to create a rich man’s wine.
they wrap around her legs
like grape vines.
pulling her closer to the ground
with each step.

she hides them.
when men approach her
she says
“quiero que me ames.
my body has rejected me
and even in the womb
i was mutating.”

the men love her face.
she is a woman who does not age.
they say to her
“tu eres morada.
to love yourself you must
accept the color.”
so they have all added
new shades of purple
to her body.

i think that is why
my favorite eyeshadow color
is purple.

I found solace in the darkness
that has robbed me of my freedom.
The darkness that feeds off of me
when I am nowhere near light.

It dictates my inner most fears of
lingering in the shadows of my own being,
yet lighting a path to my incendiary fate
that I know I can suffer for eternities in
the hellfire of my mind.

But the rain rocks my windows, and thunder claps
against my ear like a game in our room of heaven and hell.
It rattles my inner most being, and the strings that
tie me to my friends and family sever themselves
in the fall of twilight. From that, I know,
darkness has robbed me once again of light.

It’s a bitter fate I had the opportunity to accept;
darkness was then a conformity that I lived with.
My place of dwelling. And from letting this darkness
inhabit me for so long, I have come to love it. I have come
to live with it, for without darkness, light will be no more.
I have learned to love such a feared part of me. A loathed
part of me. I’ve seemed to forgotten it even existed along with me.

Darkness was but another part of me that couldn’t exist without
the light. I was given a chance to live in this world, and I would live. I will live. But life comes before death, and tragedy comes in the middle of our peace. Darkness is just but one of them I have come to accept.

You can't take a piece of me
a part of me
under your detriment and your touch

You shouldn't touch me when
I am in self-destruct

But I can't blame you
for stealing what was part

of  shattered pieces
of an unglued heart.

fire engulfing the combustibles
the soft flickering of red and orange sparks
gentle, but powerful
the smell of charred oak filling my nose
a wave of light, one after the other
lingering warmth on my skin
as if i could ever replicate
what it felt like to be beside you

fire provides us warmth, light,
perhaps a vague sense of security in the hardest nights
but come too close,
and the fire
will burn
you.

He was sitting on a fencepost
A mouth harp in his hand
He started making music
Like a ghostly rubber band.
He called me a stranger
And, I asked him how he knew.
He raised his head and stared
And seemed to look me through.

He said:
There is nothing down this highway
But heartbreak and a tale
Nobody will friend you here
There’s nothing good for sale
We are here with no way out
So move right on away
You only have your freedom
If you don't let yourself stay.

Some people think it’s heaven
‘Cause they never had a chance
They never had a friend before
A storybook romance.
They made some stupid choices
Now there’s a piper to pay.
They’re deaf to rhyme or reason
No matter what you say.
Some believe they never had
The character to change,
That they were born without a dream
The hopeless and strange.

But we know lonely backroads
That never reach the bay.
We live in fogs of memory
Here in Futile Quay.
Where once we were children;
Now we never smile.
Our trip down this highway
Is a never-ending mile.
So go on back to comfort
To security and plans.
Stay too long in Futile Quay
You’re out of fortune’s hands.