Why are you shouting out loud?
Are you saying I am too proud?
Do you think I am undeserving?
If so, it is completely unnerving
That you don’t want me to own
What you see as yours alone;
A sense of dignity and hope.
You must see me as a dope
Who can’t see you getting rich.
You are one shallow sonofabitch
If you think just calling me villain
Will somehow make me willing
To give up my own free voice
So that only you have a choice
About how much I will make
And which decisions I take
About my own home and body.
Can you really be that shoddy?

Well, yes, I have learned you are.
You think you are a superstar
And are immune to decency
That your star is in ascendency.
Well, I really hope that it is not
And that your tail gets caught
In the door before it slams
And we see the last of your scams
And your nepotistic buddy deals
And get back to what is real
And proper for our poor nation
Instead of graft and intimidation
That makes wealth for a few.
Nothing for me, all for you.

I never had those red fights caused by small stuff.
Neither did I experience those orange walks by the sea.
I never woke up to yellow sunrise next to anyone.
Not even a green stroll around one's favorite garden.
I wish I had known how to turn one's blues during late night calls.
And turn them to indigo fantasies at once.
And make one's violet eyes brighter.

I only know of a sea of grey.
A bit of white and an ocean of black.
I feel comfort in my own spot of darkness.
Fearing any inch of light will cause a mess.
There were two or three who tried to pull me out,
But I refused for I did not understand.
For now I shall stay where I am,
And feel the make-believe comfort I have made.

chilling, careless smile,
your eyes perambulate the
caverns of my soul

There is something breeding in the underbelly;
whirling and churning like an epicenter of ******* trends.
Someone found the formula to turn a profit on karma,
while we were distracted by viral beheadings.
Powder white moths opening mental portals
through the dazzling lights of self-immolation
while I trudge block after block through the snow
wearing slippers because I had to storm out.
The classes continue, the mail keeps going out, coming in,
and I'm obsessing over a splinter of worry; unavailing at best.
I keep thinking of how nice it'd be to see Seattle  
and to stand near one of those Sequoia trees I've only seen on Google.
I keep thinking of how I'd like to see The Grand Canyon
and to to walk in the Arizona deserts with no socks or shoes;
the heat of the fine sand sneaking up between my toes
while the sky beats my pupils with that astounding blue.
Why am always alone in my fantasies?
Why is it that I can't handle the day-to-day?
Am I really even searching for answers,
or am I begging for what I want to hear?
My maturity and stoicity are rubber ***** bouncing on a line graph.
I can't go on bottling the venom that pools in my gut.

He was afraid of the reflections of hell
that could be seen on her fiery red lipstick.

Forgiveness that is unlikely,
her last words to him
burnt him from the inside.

Her heart was a game to him,
and now he'll have to beg for his life
to win it.