varsity jackets,
badges of glory,
guarantees
left by old, old money.
state champions'
tendency
to wander
pass female dorms,
late at night,
reasons of, not far
beyond her.
homecoming queens,
smiles permanent,
eyes glassed,
twisted sovereigns.

I keep hearing that
in order to exist properly
amongst your peers
you need a strong sense of self.
I think that
the stains on my shirt
melancholic playlist in my ears
grumbling tummy
and agitation with self help websites
might be as good as it gets for my early 20's.

and I'm tired of trying to be perfectly healthy all the time.
and I think capacity for constant self awareness is a privilege.

Sounds of a generator and somebody
Shouting nearby. Reflections of
Blurred lights and a
Window playing television through blind slits;
This is it, this is it and
I shall embrace it.

Sewage surges below me and above me
Orion persists.
Should I take this as my glimmer of hope? Something
Of a trope belonging to my tragedy?
I shall embrace it.

Sitting in a cafe now, spilling
Tea on books and recalling my
Favourite of pages bound.
A mother sings a lullaby to unpacified baby, bittersweet
Melody of soft cries and
Soothing voice rattle against
Cutlery.
Life’s ultimatum sits opposite.
I shall embrace it.

Are you King?
or are you Queen?
Which one of these are you?
Or, are you someone else instead?
Are you someone new?

Do you play the intellect?
Are you smarter than the rest?
If you are the intellect
What makes you the best?

Is your role the writer?
Putting words upon a page
Or, maybe you're an actor
Portraying characters on stage

Whichever one you choose to be
Always play it well
Is what you are a secret?
One you'll never tell

I can't play an instrument
A musician I'll not be
My brain won't work with science
A doctor, that's not me

At times I have played many roles
Sometimes, way back in school
I lost myself for a short time
And in the end, I played the fool

There are many roles that you will play
As you work your way through life
Husband, brother, father
Mother, daughter, wife

No matter which you choose to play
The fool is only one
Story teller, wordsmith
Make sure that you have fun

So, in the morning sunshine
Ask yourself "who shall I play?"
A new one, or an old one?
Just who am I today?

A four corner chamber
where hardship intrudes and
darkness seems to be endless

Years of agony and anguish
have make the souls numb
yet still too sensitive

The anxious ones silenced their mouth
while those lionhearted tried to oppose
but failed as success is hard to reach

Pessimism?
Many candles of aspirations and hopes
had flickered to its death
and the fires that are still luminous
are relying with prayers

They are all in place
but they don't know where they are heading
as the chamber changed the routes
to the paradise where they must be

The chamber separates their wisdom
and strangles their thoughts
to create mindless puppets
that forbids to move unless controlled

But don't worry,
as you can be free from here
moving to a wider chamber
where you will conquer "life"
a darker place full of inevitable trouble

My first year I learned to do my work
The second one I learned to love it too
The third year I learned to talk to people
Finally, I fell in love with you

June 29th, 2017
It’s been 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
For 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
Count the acidic tree rings
Nearly 504;
Bright
A.m. eyes
On East Ferry,
in contrast of noir
I say, man;
June 29th, 2017.

It’s time to get a new calendar,
Cause I count 5,000 dollars later
and not a sense of a cent
was fined for my remorse.

I’ve been fine and fined.
Holes in my pockets
dropping seeds of change
planting fines

Into puddles
and potholes
showing deep interest
into the alignment of my car
stalling my engine with debts.

19,000 dollars and growing later;
I learned what trigger warnings cost
and ironically
I wrote a paper on it.

Don’t get me, wrong I am grateful
But, I had to rip holes
into all my jean pockets.
I mean, **** it,
I never had much going in
And I should quit smoking
My lighter is dead
Only blue and red
Sparks lived well in my mirrors
On, June 29th, 2017.


From the wall I was chained to,
I enrolled into college
My mom drove me home from my first class.
My lawyer wasn’t much of a lecturer,
He spoke math for 1,400 dollars

250 and 9 weeks.
106 a month for 52.

That’s enough math for this semester.

I drank with my night instructor on Mondays after 9,
He wanted to hear my music
We drank whiskey salted potholes on Allen
I counted his tree rings to 4/4 measure in regret;
20 years steady.

I graduated on a Tuesday morning,
I didn’t call him back to thank him for the irony.

I acknowledged our acidic rings
With glass cheered laughter
Swallowing thanks for each other’s company.
9 weeks and I don’t recall ever leaving the room.
43 went after,

And today life is that,
Paid for in lessons,
No need for pockets

I am those potholes
bumping coffee all over me
20 mins late to my first class.
I can repave them
but they won’t stay filled
It’s OK to want smoother roads to school.
I’m late but I’m here

I’m a mess.
******* would see art.
People have his eyes on me.
I want to be framed and splattered
on the walls of your home
A household mess .
It’s OK to have a passion.

Look into my tree rings
How old am I?
Its restorative to count
27 rings of rebirth
Look at me still growing
I believe I can grow in Paradise-lost fire
Or in Buffalo salt

I am my flaws
I counted them

My alcohol abuse,
One beat of 2,653 in 2017
I don’t know how to put an apology
On a music sheet.


The Jazz fills my potholes in the morning
before these hallways

My grey area is stained glass in Villas library,
Each step is eclectic
From shoe up and over is stand still art

Lighters flash cigarettes burning
But prints pictures of thankful new memories

With all of you in it.
Thank you for helping me with today’s date.

Here I am, an Educator, new-formed
And on the verge of ideas and thoughts
That I’m told are too lofty, too grand, for their
Purposes of having students graduate at Funding’s Earliest
Convenience. Administrative charms
Have already told me not to display
Myself and my passions with honesty. I must teach
Like I am greater than them,
Like I approach our stories each
Day with a very very serious
Focus on structure and style and each
Incredibly important
Comma. But I know the Truth.
The Truth is that the richest
I’ve ever felt was when my educational harvest
Had received its lowest return. I first thought, “How shall
I punish? How shall I repay
Your bad behavior's damage with more damage? Your
Misbehavior doesn’t deserve my toil;
Your disrespect was just as bad as their
Records said it would be!” But then my reason
For anger crumbled, and I let love strengthen
My tired and trodden heart, as
I decided to speak to my students with the honesty their
Lives often lack from authority. Intentionality, Honesty, Truth. No amount of years
Will change what I’ve learned in Year Zero: to let love increase.