I'm trying to "help the community,"
Trying to make a "healthy impact,"
I have a goal in mind, set,
It's all laid out ahead, before we've met.
I am forever "blessed,"
I can lose my moral traits when convenient.
I have all of the "virtues I was given,"
Most always fail me. My hindsight vision, "20/20 perfect,"
I've got a "healthy" set of norms and a
Pair of able legs, I am in the right
When I stumble and I'm not wrong
When I am told otherwise,
I've gotten somewhere at being in control,
Now I let strangers into my home and
Set up a world in which they're rights can be
Defined based upon my living. It's my decision.
If it's tolerable, I decide.  How soon you have to
Be finished and even how you're to be judged.
I am judge jury and executioner. I can make it
A "grand" money-making excursion. My family
As a group of strangers who "care," I never distrust.
Always and ever at my side but in the background,
We will see to it that this is somehow legal,
So long as no actual authority are around,
*There's no one who can stop me now!

Balloon head girl...
With eggs for eyes and
Sharpie lips,,
Don't cry your egg white tears
For me, or let
the yolk leak from holes in
Your diabetic fingers...

Snap your blouse back on, with
The buttons right up
to your neck, a throat with
3 imprints, but
2 hands and  
1 threat

look at my pain and my scars
look at the holes that he cut
deep, deep into me
marvel at the openness of my chest now
the light which is allowed in
now that i am hollow
he shallowed my existence
but deepened my humanity
for that, I thank him
for that, I want you to look at me
for what I am now
different

She plucks feathers from the tiny hole
in her comforter, handing them
to my trembling hands as if she were
giving me pockets of conversation.

I crumble the feathers with my fingers,
feeling the softness and the lightness.
She gets up and ambles on to
the bathroom, as I drop the feathers.

When she is blow-drying her gorgeous
black hair, I step outside the house
and onto the patio to smoke
a cigarette, knowing she will not approve.

I sip on black coffee, hoping my breath
will reek a little less. After I finish
I come back inside and she walks
into the room, telling me she smells the smoke.

I feel embarrassed. I look down
at the carpet counting all the black
and brown spots, then I come across
the feathers, so white and immaculate.

I move closer to her and run my fingers
through her hair, feeling the knots and
the curls, leaning forward to kiss her lips,
thinking that it will rectify the situation.

She pushes me away and asks "Are you
trying to get cancer?" She crosses her arms
and huffs, narrowing her brown eyes
at me as if I were a suspect in a crime.

I put my hands on top of my head
and try my best not to shrug, but I
cannot help feeling indifferent. And
that feeling makes me think that I'm careless.

She shakes her head and taking a step,
she scoops the feathers from the carpet
and shoves them back into the comforter.
Glancing back at me she asks, "Why do you hurt yourself?"

And I do not have an answer for her.

The edge of my soul is unsilenced
by the youthful glove of lust
Curtained wonders and curtailed tales
our songs recited and memorised on saddles
Sandals of certainty , candled yester years

My soles dared to tear a form
eyes roar in beats of a sinful stare
affixed sensations, the aesthetic nightmares
the cyclic eventful roller coaster of want
The padded faded jeans and cotton shirt

A fluent code of the cold wonderland
steers protons and affluent electrical neurons
Exploding zips, complementary zest
The **** ride on your stationed rod
My stallion, a rash, an adrenaline rush, our flight (oh la la)

At the sight of the afterglow stormy taste
our echoes astound the mountain tops
a wave of the heated dream in a cage
The aged flow of the surfacing rivers
As these words live in my mind

Flickering lights inside the synagogue maze
the cleavage fountain evaporating fumes
A showcase of undeniable holes and poles
A glorified truth tied in elastic hearts
Eclipsed as a shadowy armoured reflection

Hold my hand and fly the transient transcendence
Balance as I fall behind on the heighted prolific lines
Rehouse my day on these whispered thoughts
Time circles, time travels, time lost, time found
On this hour of attachment, catch me as I wave

When I  have a Friday night...
When I have $57 to last me until late July...
When I have holes or stains in all my clothes... When I am more a burden, than not...
When I have a smile even though I'm lonely...
When I have lost my friends because I'm not convenient…
When I work myself sick for a $2 trip...
When I finally can't possibly give even just one more hand...

I dig
You dig
We dig
He dig
She dig
They did

Your heart has holes
From the knives of past
Stabbed in maliciousness
Punctures that remain
Help in compassion
Trust in loyalty
Bonded in pain
All the good sent your way
seeps out of the holes in your heart
Nothing can ever stay

© Jl 2016