“Your smile is so beautiful,” they say —
but little do they know,
half of my face is paralyzed.

one side, playing the great pretender
the other,
basking in my sadness,
trying to heal the ache —
one side smiles, the other weeps,
tears running down
my freshly made clothes —
now sagging in my tears.

Do I really deserve skin
if I’m not comfortable in it?
Do I deserve a mouth,
if I can’t sing a sad melody
out into the world,
with the window open,
painting a scene,
spilling my mind on pavement
for anyone that stops
and cares to listen.

everyone still laughing, still smiling;
they walk past my cracks,
blind to the dark picture
I’m trying to open their eyes to.

half frozen,
half dead,
reaching —
for empathy.

the air picks up,
pushes me back from the window;
it shuts, sudden, cold.
I am lost, cut out —
again.

with my body barely able to move,
I reach for poetry,
hoping I can still write
when my voice feels thin,
my fingers trembling, half-paralyzed —
hoping it can set me free.

"You're not a monster," she said from two and a half feet away, across the table. And as those four words exited her mouth, it was like I could see them coming for my absorption like a dagger I had to receive. They arched up in the shape of a rainbow, over her bowl of pad Thai, over 3 remaining coconut shrimp, past both Thai iced teas, dipping down over my panang and fell down inside of my ears.

I heard them.

Quicker than sound, my eyes dropped down, staring at my bowl instead of letting anyone see that I was about to cry.  Where does all of that water come from so quickly anyways? It's like my body just decides to pull any water from any cell within. My own body takes from its own inside life to put on the outside so other life can see how I'm hurting inside. Those tears were stolen by a force I can't control to put my thoughts on display. It's twisted when you think about it that way.

Even if I were a monster, I would still be worthy of love and protection. Just recently I was at the optometrist and described my ears like the creature from goonies, and to adjust my glasses accordingly, please. She quickly reminded me that my uneven ears were normal and beautiful. Not just with words, with her hands touching my ears. She could probably smell the anxiety I exude, and chose to change the mood.

That was her choice.

Everyone has that choice. I know I'm a broken human, I'm as broken as the sunflowers in the picture. They don't look broken but two weeks after I took that photograph, they were all dug up and thrown away by the people that own that land. I just have to hope that some of their seeds fell during that removal so that they have an unexpectedly marvelous rebirth. I hope.

I know I'm not a monster, I've lived a life of service to others. Even my enemies don't have much meat inside the beef they have for me, it's mostly just my personality... which is light enough to crumble into a powder and be blown away by the wind. I've given away everything that I am. I've given love to people who didn't ask for it, I've given my best love to strangers, my longest and strongest love to family.

I'm not a monster. I just have a configuration that is unpopular.

The smell of fresh oranges
Hit my nose
I look down
You pick and pull at the peel

The underside of your fingernails
Have residue
As you poked and stabbed
At the pure fruit

But don’t worry
You’ll be able to wash your hands
From the sweet juice
Yet the smell will always linger, somewhere

You see me starring from above
My face of utter disgust
As blood drips down my thighs
And I lay paralyzed.

Do you know what it’s like
To be caged by your brain
A place supposed to be free
To be who you are
Graced with heaven or hell
To be changed by so little
Torment yourself wholly
To be what is right
It doesn't stop at your mind
To be in rambling circles
        Losing your breath
        To be at the mercy of fear
        Shaking ever so carefully
To be seen merely as cold
Digging into Earth you call skin
To be laced with liquid iron

Flowers bloom
The sun shines bright
The outside seems alright

But you're there
All bottled up inside

Storms don't last
But yours felt like
Clouds of dust following you
All year round

All you wanted was to shine
But all you see is their squinting eyes
So you stayed behind
Waiting for the crowd to be kind

So you wished
If there was another universe
Where your feet wasn't chained to the ground

You started your first day
Thinking of new beginning
But you stayed inside your head
And ended up running
"Maybe I couldn't"

Strangers and friends
Didn't differ that much
Gone faster than the wind
They wouldn't look back

why is it that these
emotions
give no warning;
feeling of nothingness
and
meaningless
envelop my every
cell

what does anything
matter
nothing means nothing
my breath has no
weight