let me reiterate
that the fish was not just a fish.
it wasn't even about the fish.
if you could see through his scales
the parasitic, plaguing fish
the fishy, foiled, murky eyes
and the five beautiful hooks
hanging in his lip, scarred into his being
you would see yourself
and pain and baggage and acceptance
begging, abandonment, pain, freedom.
facets. scaled facets reflecting in the sunlight.
it was never about the **** fish.

ITS CEASELESS BLINDNESS IS ITS POWER,
IT HOISTS ITS POWER BY THE HOUR,
NO OUGHT IF DWELLING, FORT, OR TOWER,
THE EAGLE EYES GLARE THROUGH ITS GRIM TERRORS,
ITS LUCK IS POOR, THUS IT ENCOUNTERS,
ENDLESS PROBLEMS, ENEMIES, ERRORS,
WHEN TIME HAS COME TO FACE THE BEARERS,
IT GOES, DEFENDS WHAT IT SEES FAIRER,
THE CIVIL PRAY FOR PEACE FROM BATTLES,
IT FIGHTS TO TAKE WHAT IT CAN HANDLE,
ULTIMATE FORCES USED AS RAFFLES,
YET MAN IS STRONG,
STRENGTH IS IMPERIL,
INTEL IS THE ORAL,
THAT LEADS TO HIS QUARREL,
THE PLACE WHERE HE KEEPS HIS BOWS AND ARROWS,
TO WHERE THE SHIELD AND SWORD HANG BY THE MARROW,
THOUGH IT’S LIFE IS HARD, ROUGH AND NARROW,
ITS TRUE LIGHT NOUGHT BE EQUAL TO ITS DARKEST SHADOWS…

You tell me not to be stressed
about food, gym and health
you tell me not to be obsessed
and you remind me those days when
I would eat a whole bar of chocolate
without knowing what calories were
But let me clarify one thing
it's not that easy
Those voices in my head
are controlling myself
and I'm trying to defeat them
but I'm getting tired
as they **** all my power
I swear I fight them back
and sometimes I win
but sometimes I take
one step forward and two steps back
so I'm always here
surrounded by anxiety and fear
60…59…58…57….56…55
just simple numbers on a scale
but as they decrease
I feel so powerful, yet so scared
to cross the line
dividing sanity from insanity
and suddenly I'm walking on a tightrope
trying not to fall
into the darkest of all holes

For Little One
June, 2012

I want to be a giant girl

with my hair caught in the clouds

and a bird resting on my nose

I want to be twice as small

as the fly resting on the wall

I

I want to watch small men

smoke pipes and sing to themselves

I want to grow too magnificent for the room

and push down the walls with my elbows

and use the chimney as a periscope

the sheer enormity

and when I dance

I want to fell the planetary divide

and taste the milky way

and wear saturn’s rings as jewelry

stars tangled in my braids

and i’d let humans walk across my shoulders

so that they could see the moon

and remember how it feels to be

small, childlike, wondering

and then things might be alright.

I know it's just a number,
Something made up of ones, twos, and threes.
It isn't a label,
But I feel as if I've lost the stamp of approval.
I'm way up here
But I want to be way down
there.
After all
The less one is
The more he is viewed.
& sometimes it doesn't hurt to be seen.

Numbers of the lights still don't add up. The dream station on the orange bridge's sands, is so totally too far away to fly to. My life according to the animadversion of my dreams. The harangue and opprobrious odium whilst wandering about aimlessly in the square, on the blackened honey trail where I was cast around like some pebble lapidated by the wind. I barely stand, a hyaloid column soaked in fear and ambiguphobia; one girl's face is blurred by this maddening diplopia. While the haze drapes me in its suits of cinereous gray, I crawl sadly up the rise while I am bruised from the battering. My fuscous body heaps itself, exhausted and pandiculating, all I can make out in the advesperating and cloudy night, in all of its dourly silences- the gold hair fixed against the banner of light in the darkening sky and her beautiful blue eyes.