When it flashes, I can't speak, except
   in      fra c tu
r   ed  gas p in
       g
(I should be able to withstand the shocks much better than I do)

The vibrations, the detachment lasts for several minute after
the power has been discharged and
I can't think.

Emergency situations call for
level-headed judgement,
but the jolting of the volts is difficult to disregard.

My heat resets itself somehow each time
even though the rhythm is interrupted
time and over again with every blast my power creates.

I want to pull within myself every time I use it,
embrace the sense of power, the sensation,
without reaching out.

Brain activity,
heart activity, muscle spasmatic ripples,
and I can't see past sporadic sparking up my face.

Victims, villains, friends of mine
and all your detailed instructions,
please survive in spite of me.

They say I'm strongest on the team
in strength, and that is hard to say.
I'll stay with you and fight but my mind
can't live on another day.

There’s not much left,
other than a soft ash that covers the branches.
I could tell you it was angry,
I could tell you I’m covered in acid burns
Shaped like words, it hurts.

I could tell you the smoke filled my lungs
to the brim,
And left lesions of soot
across my low beating heart
At least everything is still.

There are no more leaves,
the only hum I hear
is the ringing in my ears,
and the tears,
are dry now, too.

I could tell you how comely
this all looks
The destruction, the debris-
but you deserve your own pity;
Abandon me with mine.

i am afraid of

"what will happen?"

when we say goodbye.

i am afraid of

"how will i feel with this pain?"

i hold inside.

*    *    *

i haven't opened up to
another in so long
i've begun to realize
i'm not as strong
as i thought i've been
through all these years
i should have known
based off all the tears
i've cried for reasons
i have no words to explain
all i want is to
be in control of my brain
emotions make me feel
entirely overwhelmed
my only defense now
is to hide in my own shell
i want to feel better
than how i think of myself
i know it is possible
for me to learn how to help
my own thought process out
of this hole that i've dug
maybe i can start by
holding myself in a hug

it's a loaded term.
branded and historically stern.
While the shadow still remains
after the setting sun --
your pain will remain.

This is the ORIGIN of shame.

Have you not learned?
how They play game?
paint us out to be insane.

I wasn't given a choice.
I was given a name.



-- that i haven't changed.

If you find yourself in constant dismay
About your life, the world at large or simply **** today
You have two paths to walk and one ends colorless and grey
You sat and did nothing,  but had plenty to say.

What is that contribution that you speak?
Being in tune with the news and the daily beat?
Have you tuned out so that you could actually hear?
The connection is deafening and you walk away filled with fear.

So make you choice now or accept your fate
Right now is the only thing that is certain and safe.
But if you prefer to project life beyond the now
There will be a time when you will realize the answer to the question:
How?

There are those who speak and inspire
That's good and fine
But can you call the actions of others your own
Or can I call them mine?
No.
You need to make something from nothing
You need to blow your mind
Or else you're wasting air
And you're wasting you're own time.

I want a man whose heart is so full -
Rainwater dripping from the pitcher on the drizzled grey of yesterday,
A soft sound in the great symphony of the wet garden,
Bejeweled and glistening,
Pianoforte drops
Upon the wet leaves
Falling.

I will know him by the way he writes, the kindness in his eyes -
Flashes of him in my professor,
In myself, caught laughing like a child,
In the quiet teenager who is becoming an
Unlikely philosopher, frontal cortex in heat,
With the implications of existence
(He’s awake in the early dawn, a furious Jacob,
wrestling with his God)

And he will be a Seeker of Beauty:
“There is no medium unworthy”
He will tell me, but never in words,
Crouching for perfection’s grace among leaves and dirt
Like a widow beneath rainbow fractals
At early morning’s mass.

He will be effortless, like the unspoken love
Between two old friends, bookends
Scattering crumbs of baguettes in the park
To clicking beaks, and dancing pigeon feet.

Burying himself in pages, when he thinks no one sees
(Was that you there, on the subway?
Dark eyes, fixated on the lines,
Crinkling with understanding?)

Both of us adventurous spirits -
“Let’s run away, you and me” and we will
Melt with ease into cityscapes, so transparent, adaptive,
Young and free,
Like the wood moths becoming one
With the aspen in its serenity,
We light upon
France, Spain… Italy.

I know I will find him
In my own verse.
Will discover him
In pages that I’ve turned.
Will recite his thoughts back to him, and will
Love him like poetry.
I will know him by heart.

your happiness is my joy
your grief, my burden

I laugh when you laugh
I cry beside you

When you are angry, I lash out
I panic when you are anxious

but is it you or me?
and does it matter?

I am only built for my own emotions...

my thoughts are buzzing
my trains of thought colliding
what was I saying?