girl in your salty apparition
drastic ammunition
posed for the dreary mood of the camera screaming slurs on
television
withheld by the standards of creation

poor girl
the daughter of society’s atrocities
you have synchronized heart failure
with the darkness
the desert sand engulfs you
it transports you into the hyperbolic grasp of reality

girl and your insatiable hunger to be bigger than the swords that chop off your limbs
you are the choices you make
you are the friends you make
you are the opportunities you take
you are the you that you are terrified of
the you that shines with red blood dripping from her fangs
the you that violates the system
the you that ingests chemicals so she can feel whole
the you that has been burned to the ground

girl in the danger zone that is your lungs
your venomous victimhood
encroaches on your meaning to exist
yet in spite of your crestfallen volition
you can divorce
the misnomers
you can transform
into a creature that looms over your sorrow
and pecks away at its core

girl in the heart, mind, body, and flesh
be the force of nature you couldn’t stomp out
be the ammunition that locks and loads and explodes
stop the premonition of an incoming battle
lock your jaw and
connect the fragments of your stricken language
yet don’t harden the hit on the clambering back
of the man who keeps all of his power
locked in a lockbox
don’t form a coalition
and strike his shoulder
with bleached eyelids
alike colluded soldiers following orders    

girl with your soggy teardrops
it will all be over
and the summer will hold you
with both of its arms
and you will embrace
not shortly, for a long period of time
and you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 know love
and you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 be acknowledged
and you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 be reborn from the ashes
phoenix,
though the trees will topple onto your highways
and the stars might seem light years away
you’ll get there someday
and when you do
i will withhold you in the ecstatic standards of creation
you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 abandon the reprises
you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 sing in the opera
you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 adopt a new method
and divest the old
screeching with indignation
your shaky hand will greet another and
you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 fall in love
either with the affairs of your unkept emotions
or with a kind individual who promises you stability

be freed from your chains
and set off into the horizon
the you that you are
rose from the ashes
you are the you that you always were

If only you could see,
See that I was hurting.
Hurting on the inside,
Inside of me is broken.
Broken from the past,
Past issues not recognized.
Recognize the monsters,
Monsters that are controlling.
Controlling my very own emotions,
Emotions that are evolving.
Evolving into a revolution,
Revolution of my freedom.
Freedom to change,
Change who I am.
Am I visible now?

We are polar opposites
you grow towards the sun, i towards the moon
yet i feel, we were made to love each other

...
Transformation, to be transformed
To fly, to the wings that soared,
My dreary genesis,
To the radiant prism, O dear Iris

Fly, Fly my butterfly
Sparkle, luster, let the light come by.
Grown and free.
The vision of beauty, sending love letters to thee.

Why from singularity to universe
across fourteen billion years?
Then give me just but these sixty
in the company of countless tears?

Why is it I am here to witness,
the wonder of universal things?
Only to know I will never know,
what cosmic evolution finally brings?

Why am I born to a species,
that seeks to know all it can?
But then given such small a window,
I can never hope to see all it's plan?

Why evolve a sentient intelligence,
that looks far beyond Earth's ground?
To give each only such a short lifespan,
where all the answers can't be found?

Why congeal my eternal dust this way,
and then evolve me to conscious thought?
Where universe and evolution continues on,
my consciousness given time oh so short?

Why since the creation of all things,
has evolution had need of so many years?
Without simple insights and more answers,
to give rise of hope for a life of fewer tears?

Why the bindings of science and physics,
that dictate all that comes and goes?
Where time and space and matter,
are given restriction and order to their flows?

Why give me the power to think and question,
in this section of space and time oh so small?
Where rational thought must finally conclude,
humankind has no significance in the plan at all.

An old boy's philosophy, ambles up
arrow in one hand,
strung bow in the other…

Aim at nothing,
you cannot miss.

I watch this idea, nothing more, no thing,
a thought…

nock the shaft, draw back the bow,
but
not as I expected, not
as I saw ahead, not
aiming at the skies, outmost limit…
no,
this arrow aimed at me.
Or was it you?

Mustabin you, or nothing, as intended,
I was aiming at nothing,
to prove I could still hit it as easily as once,
when I was young,
and at the brink… of next, laughing