i cut the envelopes that come in through my mailbox with the jagged edges of my front teeth
women used to chew their umbilical cord after birth
and my mother tied my hair in the same ponytail the entirety of my girlhood
the elastic snapping a couple times a day
because the girth of hair was always too thick
and I envied the women with thin, silky hair
the kind that didn't snap or break
split in two like my lip in the winter
or when hitting the pavement

years later when I became bored with everything
everyone I knew was in love with
I became queen of abandoning all in a jiffy
sobering up and growing up
the more I went up
the easier it became to be simple and dumb

so cut my tongue-tie
leave me in the dark
i'll never be middle class
as you explain poverty to me in your fake squalor
I understand that one day you'll eventually
move back to your parents' wealth
and my sun will be hotter

I'll quit my job and live in between different parks
with similar names and the birds that always remember your
face but they have so many
your head becomes a scrambled egg
you'll listen to my songs
but that's only because
you want to believe they're about you

it's liquid gold
when everyone is defined by what kind of milk they drink

I'm sitting under a canopy of dark green leaves
I don't recognize the breed
You come forward and tell me that a new law has already been discovered
What goes up must eventually come down
The first time I recited one of my poems aloud I drove through the page leaving skid marks shaped like tongue twisters
No one paid attention and when I stepped off to catch my breath I threw up a mouthful of apple seeds that I later dug into the backyard
I moved out before i saw any growth but I promise something rose from the dirt, crooked and shy at first
A medley of anxious nail-biting and approval-seeking
I once knew the secret, the all note worthy testimonial to a meaningful life
But the soup has grown timid and uncertain of where it will go when it no longer holds anything
A toothbrush is born from underneath my skirt
is this cleaning the slate?

Sometimes I'm weird

Sights from within a lonely hotel
Never revealing my peep hole
No maid service, room smells like hell
But never starring in the main role
     
Beauty I could almost kiss      
With your luscious lips for sure
Just what the urge is      
I can't explain anymore
     
'Cause I see you
Yes, I see you
Oh, how, I see you
     
Staring at people
Some face to face
Just watching how they feel      
They dare not flinch, just in case
     
While some try to avoid me      
Thinking they can escape my stare
Just hoping it won't be      
They can try to hide anywhere
     
And I see you
Yes, I see you
Oh, how, I see you
Oh, how, I see you

I pick a flower
And it screams
It pierces my ears
And makes them bleed

To reach beyond the stars in a restful headspace,
Only to pull a guise over it when we begin to think again.
We shelter ourselves in our pin point perception of reality, masking the reality as a dream to shroud out all questions that arise out of it.
We cling to this world, for it is all we have ever known. If we let go of what we know for a moment, we begin to see reality for what it is, not how we perceive it to be.

the callous on my fourth finger has disappeared
when I attempt a semblance of a sentence my
hands fist fight with each other and i'm left feeling wiped out
like I should probably put the words back into my mouth
but the fluttering movement of my bones working with joint
leaves me feeling exasperated to see what comes of it
the knuckles turn a peach white and I can suddenly see
that my scrawl on the paper is running around in loopy circles
sometimes they embrace to create something entirely new  
they grab their bodies like they're nothing without the other
foreign nonsense in between spaces
but there's always space
you need that distance to make sure there's room for the empty
and I have come to establish a rhythmic
nodding of head
bobbling of body
lulling of mind when I interact with the dialogue
my hands jump off my table and lament that the writer has become too conceptual this time