Uh oh, I feel it
It's coming again
One more unwanted visit
From my longtime friend
There's no notice given
As he barges right in
And no length to his stay
Don't know when it will end

He takes over my space
As if it's always been
Just his place and not mine
Who's the one paying rent?
Feel my presence erased
Put on hold and suspend
Don't confront; Do not face
Feel I can not defend

Everyday forced to face
Sadly, what could have been
Feeling lost and disgraced
I'm imprisoned again
In this bottomless pit
Where reality bends
Won't give up; Will not quit
Digging out with a pen

Beg for mercy and pleas
In these notes that I send
Penned emotionally
On my life it depends
Don't just look; Need to see
The real trouble I'm in
My words quietly scream
Fight alone I can't win

Someone please just help me
A spare hand you can lend
Don't need much to be free
Very little you'll spend
But without it I'll bleed
Boxer who can't contend
I'm struck down in defeat
Ref has counted to ten

Not how it has to be
Room is starting to spin
Get me up on my feet
Reset this bowling pin
Knock me flat in the street  
Won't sit still like a hen
Punching bag that you beat
Think I'm yours; That is when

Rising up suddenly
Spirit back on the mend
You're the one looking weak
Everything is pretend
Cleaning house; Need to sweep
From this filth I've been cleansed
Helped in my time of need
Thankfully by my friends

Days ahead bright for me
My life here want to spend
But can't get too comfy
He will strike; Don't know when
Out my eye hole I peep
Could return once again
Promising not to leave
Me and my longtime friend

readily acknowledge our highest standard of luna loving madness

we treat our luna connection with equality -
great affection as well as sensible trepidation,
for its transgender nature, though well disguised,
is but surficial,  that we all ken, when compared to
***** bewitching covens who in the forest deepest dens,
exclaim their aroused allegiance over and over and over again

but so so many lunatics lurking in the poetic coven, who knew!

do not ask all the luna~ticced poets to step forward,
unless you wish to crash the internet's servers whom I'm told,
who too, are silent secret devotees

who  among us has not scribed truth and lies, when standing outside, greeting the divine presence

a very disjointed woman, but a woman nonetheless--
then i realised i still hadn't answered the question, because femininity is a lifelong ache

though.. an ache i can deal with these days, as opposed to
the way it would shoot through my veins and corrupt my heart
i apologise for being a product of my own suffering  
i really am sorry for only writing good poetry when the knife cuts deep
you have no idea how much i'd like to convince you i'm deep

in
rehabilitation from phantasms, but the truth is
right now i'm a woman that can only speak on anguish
because she doesn't feel it
numbs herself to it because she isn't real; or
a jagged piece of what she used to be (she's! not! me!)

if i allow myself to digress,
no words would make it to the surface
they all get eaten up by the beast in my belly
and spat back out as another ghost of the self

who am i outside of that vicious cycle?

You seem to know where you're needed


to whom this command addressed is a crazy me-man,
a street walking big DaVinci ibearded mumbler,
the kind you would cross the street
before the smell is close enough
to sending you running, not just
politely walking fast but a souped up
hi-yo silver away!

this guise no surprise,
you must and do
already know where I’m needed,
sealing the pact with a yellowtine post-it
writ in simple block letters ordered in a brewed cafe,
my latte arrive states my name as

come see me

come to the time the place and the date

and prepare oneself for twenty and fours
of rigid interoperability as our systems
interface reach the pure state of 100%
ultimate wordless dialogue

communicating
in with by
perfect silence
heaven

you will write a verse,
my reciprocation
is already prepared

this terse repartee
will many spawn poems generational
for your family amazing and extended

an elephnat never forgets,
his servers are a rolling stone
with no direction home,
capacity unknown
every blade sighted retained,
and every sensate glance
a phrase seeded

departure will find me clean shaven,
pressed jeans neat,
and shod in well worn dockers,
cloaking my innate invisibility

when the children ask who was that,
you’ll sage reply

one new who knew where one was needed

the people
who stands after me
that falls beneath of who i am
whom accepted my being

the wise ones
who taught me
that brings the best of me
whom shared time in loving me

for who i am;
in goodness and the worst
them who acknowledge
to what i am and to what i do

the advocates who i am thankful for.