The boys are all about the cheeses,
the platter, the crackers.
The girls are all about double cream.
The thicker the better.

The boys select the cheeses
that are bluer and smellier.
The girls stick with tiramisu
with a coffee chaser.

It makes no difference to the bill
which each year gets pricier.
They add a charge for the ambiance,
no matter what we order.

If I had to choose,
If I had to win or go lose
I know it wouldn’t be long
Before I chose…wrong.

Victory, it would be mine,
I’d triumph in every fight
Each goal, each plan
All in my hands—
I’d rise to the greatest of heights.

And yet, a price there would be
Trading wisdom and progress for ease,
In your tears and your scrapes
You’d grow stronger each day—
In motion, while I sit idly.

why does this ink look like a bloodstain?
it sings like writing on the wall.
it stings like the mirror i shattered
and the darkness i spilled and i splattered.

why does this page allow its face
to be struck, scarred, mangled, and marked?
these words tear themselves apart at the seams
eviscerate themselves to understand what they mean.

why does this poet stretch her jaw ‘til it breaks
just to show the world what’s inside?
she should hide. she should hide!
but the price of her pride
is to endlessly, manically 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆.

Picking one from many fools who ran for a small price
Tempted with morsels, contemptible as the beasts
Gullibly proud of unshakeable beliefs pleasing the ears
Snared they shall to slave that my free will shall be

Did you wait & procrastinate?
Or act ahead of the curve?
Well, you will get your bitcoin
At the price that you deserve

Start right now and do the work
Strengthen your will and nerve
And then you’ll get your bitcoin
At that price that you deserve

Keep your mind steady and firm
Stay focused and never swerve
In order to hold your bitcoin
As it becomes the world reserve

Learn about money, study well
Be quick to judge and observe
Then act to get your bitcoin
At the price that you deserve

I struggle with my heart.
It’s so bruised. I’m still healing.
It feels tender to the touch.
When anyone gets close
a guard rises up out of my mind
to close off access.

Through the shield she peers out,
desiring love, to press against
another’s beating heart.
But she still bleeds sometimes,
the wounds don’t heal
like they do in the physical.
I don’t know how to close
the lacerations,
and so they remain open.

I look into myself,
and cry into my broken heart.
The astral tears are bitter
and cause the heart to ache.
Perhaps all that can be done
is to hold my broken pieces together,
and let time pass,
recreating me again and again.
Create so many new layers of me
that my heart is intact once again.
Day by day, choosing to be whole
will manifest a whole new being.