Hook him up to the machine.
Shock his brain into
mediocrity.
Death stalks him;
he is aware.
There is too much
flash in his eyes.
His brain needs a reboot;
he needs to forget,
like a goldfish, like
a monkey in the zoo.
Hook him up to the machine.
He is too sentimental.
Salmon swim in his blood;
he has a paisley heart,
and a tie-dye soul.
He can smell colors.
Hook him up to the machine.
He has Van Gogh eyes, and
a Bukowski gut; he walks
like he's lost in a maze;
hunchback sadness,
butcher knife nerves,
Hook him up to the machine.
He believes in love,
and has too much trust.
His vivid green memory
is a curse, we need to
crash it, **** the eternal spring.
Hook him up to
the machine.

dis here speech addresses all colors
this speech addresses all colors

try to appreciate life
try ta appreciate life feel me?

try ta respect everyone
try to respect everyone

yo maybe eved try ta love people
maybe even try to love people

tis be what i done been learnin' in stationary treatment  
that's what i've been learnin in stationary treatment

if ya don't embrace such values
if you don't embrace such values

try at least tolerating others:

you's black, white and biracial brothers
your black, biracial and white brothers

don't forget you's sisters
don't forget your sisters:

black, biracial, white

24 hours be made of day and night
24 hours are made of day and night

ya feel me?
do you understand?

every man be a mister
every man is a mister

every woman be a lady
every woman is a lady

racists are lazy
racists be lazy

since they don't want to understand "others"
since dey don't finna understand "others"

lovin', tho, be de best mood to make it trough dis state that we call life.

loving, though, is the best mood to make it through this state that we call life.  

from me to you:
from me to you:

MUCH COLORBLIND LOVE

I am a Vitruvian Man
marked out like an anatomy lesson
in black and green dye,
something to align against the mean,
a mold made of sheets and plastic
to aim the mechanical eye
to revolve its rays around.

I can’t move because the machine
requires mathematical silence
to perform its cure, so the nurse
must tug me into place.

I get lost in the hum of the circle,
lonely bagpipes playing a dirge,
maybe Amazing Grace,
maybe Scotland the Brave,
maybe the last graceful notes
of my own dying world,
maybe it’s just noise.

Somewhere there
is a small echo of God
that almost gets lost in the creation
of algorithm and code,
smothered in my general deafness,
the unbelief that He would touch me
at my weakest point
like a biblical character.

The scan stops.
The mold is done.
The nurse lifts me gently up
making sure my feet touch the floor
before letting go.
She smiles and reminds me
that the end is just 25 treatments away.

A true friend
What I thought you were
You pretended to be
Was blind to your dark side
Too long for me to see

Not all are *******
Most of them girls are the same
Some girls turn out different
Treat like a proper dame

Taken
I thought that you were one of those
Believed we were queens
You left that royal treatment
Somewhere in our teens

fingers ice cold
identity pinned on arbitrary digits
spilling the rotten flowers from her insides
counting pumps of panic juice
one, two, three. not enough.
she scrubs until her hands are red and raw.
four, five, six. they're not clean enough just yet.
waking up freezing and covered in sweat,
voice filling up volumes,
feeling every person who has ever
touched her skin.
sitting and shaking in spanish class,
quietly looking up the number of sleeping pills she needs
to get into her wretched body
in order to disappear forever.
craving the feeling of the cold blade on her hot skin
the red ribbons erupting onto her sheets
blinding anger, sadness, grief turns to
physical pain
staring at "severely underweight bmi" girls
scribbling on her injured wrist what she needs
to get to that point. she's almost there.
**** yourself. **** yourself. **** yourself, she writes.
**** yourself. **** yourself. **** yourself. **** yourself.
one day, she breaks,
dying a thousand deaths as sirens wail
peeling the tape off the IV they attached to her vein
hearing her mother cry
liver damage. severe blood loss. hallucinations. stitches necessary. psych ward? she's convulsing. must be in shock.
finding herself surrounded by broken girls and boys
in a white-walled facility
made for lunatics, just like her.
smiling through session after session until they say,
she's ready.
scraping through as she plans
how to keep the dead flowers just for herself.
months later, finding herself
in another home for lunatics
tiny quiet shaking girls just like her
being fed sugar water through her nose
on her eighth day, saying
a single first word to her therapist.
okay.
sharing a room with a wrinkly zucchini of a girl
turning pink and crying when
the soft soul walks in the room,
finally giving her a beautiful flower to hold.
all her hidden blossoms spilling out of her chest
ugly, shameful plants finally revealed
for the first time in many moons,
she's no longer ashamed of them.
falling in love with the girl two doors over,
erupting into giggles
sneaking around the milieu wearing
rose coloured-glasses,
fingers intertwined.
sitting in a circle of winter girls,
our flowers resting on our laps,
our fingers warmed by
the touch of one another.

She was 13 years old the first time.
A mix of tequila and pain killers.
Laying on her bed, she did not know what to do.
Made a mistake.
Her brother tries to stick his finger down her throat in hope she wouldnt die.
Police said it was "teenage angst" a "typical teenage girl"
She refused to speak to them because they didnt understand.
"stupid girl." her mother says.
Goes to therapy and gets diagnosed.
But her mother doesn't think the diagnoses is real.
"You want some fries?"
18 years old the second time.
Roommate found her unconscious, brought to hospital.
Roommate is crying.
She felt so guilty.
Gets sent to Hell with people who all tried to **** themselves.
Gets jokes about her anorexia.
"You eat barely anything, no wonder you're so skinny!"
5 days of playing chess and daytime napping.
Can't go back to school.
3rd time it was winter. 19 years old.
Extremely cold. Probably 20 degrees.
She went out running, hoping she'd get hit by a car.
Cars are really good at stopping for pedestrians.
Spent 2 hours trying to **** herself.
She cried when it didn't work.
Went and banged on a facilities door at 12am.
Screaming help,
because now she's just tired.

In bringing to light
The darkness that surrounds us,
I understood more about you.
In the things that you do for me and
The way that you treat me.
I had always questioned why you did
What you did;
Was it an act of indebt?
I want your sincerity
Something that I've never really felt deeply...

Thank you for these acts.
I hope that you reach a point of sincerity
So that in the future,
I can understand why I was willing to be
Close by as you
Tread at a distance lightly.

Feet under crystal green water
Fragments of debris float in circular motions
Tracing the minds pondering nature
World passes as if turning backwards
Return to the former place one of purity
The corruption brought forth a small death
One of little significance yet large impact
Only personal not important


The clocks are abused
Mistreatment of age delivers hell