Eyes that see
Not the eyes
That judge

She is sad,
She is hurt,
She is dying,
She is alone,
She is a mess,
She is judged,
She is ignored
She is suicidal
She is stressed
She is confused
She is ****** up
She is depressed
She is misunderstood
She is tired BUT STILL LIVING,
She is hurt BUT WONT SHOW IT,
She is screaming BUT IS SILENT
She is in pain BUT STILL SMILING,
Respect her, love her, nurture her,
'coz She is DESERVING.

i'm not hear to judge
i can't judge
ha ha ha ha ha ha

Her stained thoughts manifest
as reckless voice that
critiques and confines.

Her words jars authenticity
and snubs their narrative,
cooked from their perspective,
and experience.

Flames of disapproval,
burn brighter with every beat
as incompetency bites
and acceptance withers.

She captures snapshots,
and confines them into
stereotyped framed
of idiosyncratic value.

But steadily,
as she delayers,
scrubs the scrutiny of judgements
of her thoughts, and emotions —
she steps off the battleground
of others skin
and becomes the change of creating
a embracing society.

Then, she was a girl with aspirations
Now, she is a women with a vision
don't judge her
by just how much she has achieved
be inspired by
how she struggled & persisted to succeed

There may appear chaos in her brain
but don't be mistaken
that's the burning fire in her soul
while I try to catch up with her
she excels in her every possible role

Ruler first or ruled

in the grand
scheme
of things

the inter-e-
stop

interest
interesting times, quants of time,

quants divisible, but

non-un-en-tangle-able as opposed

at tthis moment
with tangibility being the re-
al-it-if-I-can temptation

time is permanently temporary here,
if that's okeh with you, as

peacemakers were learned to say.

Leave us let this be, see we was never taught,
we
was caught, and we learned

I can-tations
I caint-tatations yessir nossir, damnright,
I'm white trash

from way back. Hillbilly Scotts and Fisher man Sicilians.

Outlaws hang from my family tree
with some honor, omerta. doncha know.

My great granddaddy fought in the Lincoln County War,
on the side that won.

Ever last one o' my kin's sons,
I ken re
call

was left with a life t' live after
winning a war.

Then came me,
and I'as left t'live after losing war after war after war

for no reason,

those was unreasonable wars.

We was poor boys made men by God
And the Corp-
us, the embodiment of an esprit d'corp

-- flash (the real kind, where you remember an event
in time re-
lated by the merest of mere threads of
wonder)

what if, you are reading this and its like
reveilatory
re-veily girl wwwuwu
re-unveiling, luring

you

to a true-ly, like true,
(you can't tell the difference, no diff, right? D'Israeli, maybe.
said that, aside)
true
Hell. Imagine that.
You can't.

Searing hot iron truth:
no condemnation here, no more, ever on
this edge,

if
things stay balanced.
Any time, past now, is mortally pre-carrious

im' guessing that means pre-tooth rot,
but, I can check…

I 'as wrong, lookathis:
precarious (adj.)
1640s, a legal word,
"held through the favor of another,"
from Latin precarius 
"obtained by asking or praying,"
from prex (genitive precis)
"entreaty, prayer"
(from PIE root *prek- "to ask, entreat").

Notion of "dependent on the will of another" led to
extended sense "risky, dangerous, uncertain" (1680s).

"No word is more unskillfully used than this with its derivatives.
It is used for uncertain in all its senses;
but it only means uncertain, as dependent on others ..."
[Johnson]. Related: Precariously; precariousness.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=precarious>

tooth-rot persuasion-wise, I'as right.

Jahnsan, we assume Samuel or some other dangling
Johnson, says *******, who rides me

through the raison patch from time to time
so I can see the angel.

The messenger, the very one, told
the Prophet professed to be that lastest wit' the mostest

but un-propheside of precariousness

this very voice manifest aurally, in the
non-shadow-casting image of a pillar of light,

highbeams on a foggy night,
from far away,
then blam
headlights

the voice it said,
"Read".

Twice. Nada mas. Read. He heard it.
But he could not read, so
highly spiritual
was he --
post allakindaholyshit
to him, alone,
an angel of light, with new good news,
just in time,

write this down,
its
weird.Wait…
Wars could …

They could.
Wait. ( as we have, and may, yet.)
Wait,
I can see what the professed prophet can see.
I did read.
He could not.
Ought he to have taught? Who am
I to judge,

times and times and half a time,
that clock,
did it have an alarm?

I wanted you to stay
and not to be scared away.

Just tell me you would still be my friend
if I ever where to go batty, loony
weird, crazy or delirious.

Tell me you would still be by my side
if I were to send hour long of voice notes,
text messages dictating stories
and emotions flowing out like a waterfall.

Tell me you would still care
if I were to become a extra version of myself,
feeling more sensitive and deep than my usual self.

Tell me you you wouldn’t judge me by your eyes,
rumor me away by your tongue.

I wanted you to tell me,
and actually mean it.

i've been thinking
that drowning is fun
and guns are a playground.
knives are sharp
but an incised wound looks fun
and voices are way too loud.
i don't have a home
but breathless in the water sounds warm.
love faded as people said it is a sin;
i'm just a kid who's trying too see
but my breath fogged up the glass
and now I only see me in a room hanging,
lonely and sad while people are judging.