Maybe, she's just tired
Maybe, she's just sad
Maybe, she's just too weak to handle the pressure
But,
She's tired
She's sad
She's too weak to handle the pressure
And when she closed her eyes
She see herself in water
An anchor on her ankle
Making her drown
To her tiredness
To her sadness
To her weakness
And maybe,
Maybe she's better to be drown anyway.

Quitting is...
An important thing to do
And an important thing not to do
You know those things that you ought to quit
And you know those things that you shouldn't quit!

There is something
In this fathomless ocean
That doesn't dares to quit
Even with the shifting
Tempestuous currents of time
And the doleful glare
Of a tired enervated moon
It's effervescent waters
Continue to reflect
Sparkling jewels and
Brightly colored diamonds
Even amid a dusky
wintry gloam

By Arcassin Burnham

Many people come with many different
packages,
Some are savages , and some claim to be,
But what you say is distant memory, to
encourage the capacity of idiocy in these
human beings , listening to what they hear,
Are you kidding me?
For example , the white and self-proclaimed
wholesome american could go and blame
the black man with anything they're handling,
Which is why I don't go interracial anymore,
***** that's how I'm feeling,
I'm a anxious 21 year old with no censorship
but I'm surviving,
To get out my words is what I struggle with
on arriving, I'm telling.

I dream of a Peach
That's just out of reach

I wish to **** on it's sweet nectar

It's sticky and sweet
brings joy to my feet

and reads high on my comfort detector

When i reach for this treat
I am told to retreat

for I have is not what they are asking

I'm too tall or to short
or i'm not a good sport

so I leave and feel burdened for tasking

The fall does not hurt me
my drive won't desert thee

I'll reach for that peach every time

and once I obtain it
I surely will drain it

Of all the sweet juice that is mine!

And walking in it was a pain,
St\rted as a simple *****,
That was the first step,
Then the other foot got in
Landing on scorpion tail
Barefoot i walked
Always hoping for a better step
I had walked in pain far too long
I couldn't go back to the beginning
Mine was a bed of roses
Not the petals but the thorny bushes
I slept in ache and woke in pain
It was hard to quit after trying for so long
And as my second year dusked
Walking away had become easy
Holding on sometimes hurts
Worse than letting go ever would
Even when you walk away
Pieces of thorns remain in flesh
It hurts like hell
And i wish i had quit earlier!!

A reflection - maybe that is what I see
A replication - maybe that is what I am trying to be

        and as I sit on this back-deck  
        my left foot dangles over the left railing

        and in this midnight the street-light beams with confidence
        and
        as my eyes adjust
        The shadow grows
        Mine or your’s? - I do not know.

A miniature volcano decays between my fingertips
A moment of false peace
    -    a vapor
        come & gone
        a memory shrouded in nicotine
        lying within a bottomless ashtray  
        This is the back-yard landscape    -