Men...
I am in awe
At your lack of masculinity
Yes...
Lack of masculinity
As beautiful as the bridge of my nose
The way I highlighted and contoured
To create my perfect glow
The way I crease the wings
To increase my wings
To fly into your mind
As a beautiful woman being
You find flaw????
Flaw???
In me?
How dare you speak
On what you have not created
To tell me to enhance more
Than what God has created
How dare you see me
As any less
You are no longer Man...
You are peasant
With no respect
You tried to belittle
My essence
With your lack of neglect
To even be able
To drive these curves
Yet you want to see bigger breast??
I am grounded in a mine of gold
A diamond in the rough
A man never satisfied
Is clearly a man not good enough

if i spoke the words in my head no eyes would stay dry,
my silence is protecting you from the venomous bite,
please don't ask me to speak to you.

let me disappear into the background where all are safe,
inside i bleed from wounds carved deep into the soul,
please kept away from my mind.

choking on tears is the only sound that can be heard,
doctors put band-aids on bullet wounds,
please ignore my bloody body.

You are a metaphor
       Of love given meaning.
For your every breath
      Is a syllable of the heart.

And your words are reflections,
        In a mind that gains from
The simplistic nouns and vowels
                             That speak to me

               From your heart.

And I have seen paradise before
It was a heaven of ideological
proportions
located
on the junction
of childhood and interstates
of man and youth, with marble floors
and distant speakers echoing drops off of
cell phone booths
and older people
selling things for us to buy
to find ourselves happy in the moment
deep cascading waterfalls

Is this heaven?

When a child it's all you see
the white and pedicured purity
of a waxed granite floor,
the impersonal monotony
feeling a soul in a world unknown
the closest thing to dreaming
Old T.Vs selling like hotcakes
buy it while it's new!

Gameboy games, pokemon on the tele
silent in the face of some strange musician
playing unworded tunes you'll recognize later
their focus-grouped chords left somewhere in your mind
for you to hum when bored

Everything was perfect, then?
was it?

Those same malls don't sparkle
no more

maybe it's just the grime of life
blocking the mirrored measure of my childhood soul
lost amidst the echoes
the sweet music of truth
bouncing off of the uncolored walls
a send-off of my youth

Maybe when we go back, one day
the walls won't be quite so grey
they'll be power-washed with light,
shine better than ever before,
nothing to buy but our happiness
somewhere in those hallowed halls
searching those windows into other lives
hoping to find the key to our soul
to leave this silly Sphere and
Roebuck
our boat back out the sliding door
-windows
back out into the real world,
no longer dreaming.