these are the things that fall,

an apple,
some leaves,
droplets of rain,
and then of tears.

almost all heavy objects,
(including) my sleepy eyes.
the sun at the close of day.
the stars on a dark sky.

the sky,

and my heart, for the only thing that didn’t (fall), your heart.

My mother's been asking me
about where I've been.
But I'm a younger version of her
with my father's eyes
and a tongue of my own.

The sun painted my skin
the same color as the history
of skins before me.
The same stretch insecurities carved
too lightly; for now.

My name is from the people before me;
Am I supposed to carry their ghosts when they leave?
How heavy does a name weigh?
Especially when it sounds like expectations?

Your words falter and shake,
“I didn’t mean it like that”.
But you did.
As if you think I’m not already aware;
As if you think I can’t feel that weight
Already bearing on my spine like stone.
As if I didn’t already question
Every
          little
                    thing
About me.

You meant what you said,
It just wasn’t the right timing.

Black Sabbath baptist
Sings heavy metal gospel
Every Sunday morn

Sleep calls from a distance
I turn; on a bed of yesterday's tears
and tomorrow's dreams.
The weight of their expectations
lies heavy like a nursing baby
on my chest.
I do not want it.
I'm afraid the bed is too small
for the both of us.

Zombie girl,

Do you weep,
For those you ****?
Do you feel cold,
Without your second soul?

Zombie girl,

Skeleton’s always smile.
Your skin’s getting colder,
Like a winter in your summer.

Zombie girl,

You’re an open casket,
Something warm died inside it.

Zombie girl,

Hang it up in your closet.
Don’t forget to close it.


Skeleton,
In the house of the living.
It’s like being alive,
But never being able to die.

Dissection,
On the surgeon’s table.
Gave its soul to death,
And she said her first goodbye.

She opened up,
The bee and the flower bud.
Carnivore,
She slammed her petals shut.

Why does it matter to you?
It belongs to me.
I stole its air,
That makes it free.

Hung it from an umbilical cord,
Tied under a broken crescent moon.
A stranger wore your skin,
Now they’re buried inside a human coffin.

She sung along to carols of the needle man.
Stillborn chorus of the cold dead thing in her hand.

She felt it die.
I heard the crocodile cry.
When she gave her first goodbye.

my body is leaden
with the weight of my sins
heavy and burdensome

a persistent reminder
of wrongs long past and yet are
impossible to atone

looming overhead like rain clouds
full to bursting with painful thoughts
brimming with more tears to be shed

perhaps it does not linger so much
above as it does below our feet
like black sticky tar or deep quick sand

every step forward is taken in vain
serving only to drain us completely
of what hope we might have possessed