I'm kinda on that boarder
between tipsy
and really drunk
maybe a couple more
to obliterated
it's not making me feel better

Look at ME

Finish the conversation
With ME

Share ALL of the information
So I can respond appropriately

Allow me to do MY job
Allow me to be ME
Allow me to be happy
Allow me to be joyful
Allow me to love

Stop assuming you know it all
And don't need to verify my truth
You are wrong as often as you are right
And sometimes more wrong than that

I am this person who deserves her own voice

They say when life hands you lemons make lemonade
But how can I do that in the pouring rain
When I'm all out of sugar
And misplaced my pitcher and cup
It feels like there's no way to whip it up
So I'm stuck with these lemons
And nothing to do
Oh how I wish I could make a switcheroo
I'd chose something sweeter than lemons
But I can't and I won't
So I guess I'll stick with this poem that I wrote

Stepping out of bed listening to
Sun Araw yelp like a cat on marijuana
and wondering if we're all the spawn
of some great singular being.

Lying in your work clothes,
lying to yourself about showing up late
working towards that infinite nothing,
wondering why people expect dreams
out of people, instead of just
give some mercy to the suffering.

Talking about age makes me want to die young.

It's pink and orange and soon it's blue,
but it's still the loveliest most childish
painting the sun has ever spread out
for your eyes to see.

Put on work boots for a job that'd
be just fine with sneakers.
Get your ducks in a row,
and let the cute girls with
big eyes and colored hair
shoot them down
one by one
by one.

Moving
     everyone's        cars in
the morning

before work

is       always

a                                


                     ­       struggle .

From the minute I awake
To the minute I lie to sleep
I am working for my future
A future for more than me
My future kids and future love
My money will linger when I'm above
So my nights of stress and no sleep
Will prove I was a great mother week after week.

What do you do when you've had
the "awe inspiring" love at first sight-
and had it blown up?
Why does trying to love again
feel like settling?

There's something magical about the night time
and the way in which the roads clear
in the same way that your mind does

you'd think that would make things easier;
that the complete eery silence would bring peace of mind
with no one else awake to witness the movement
- or seemingly lack of -
on the earth
making you feel special, significant; as though this planet was designed and created especially with you in mind
and you are the only habitant

as though you share a secret with the universe,
an inside joke with the moon
and a bond with the stars

but that's what makes your harrowing thoughts all that much louder

there's no busy bustle of shoppers in a rush to waste their money
on materialistic items
that will decompose  upon the arrival of their death
as quickly as their corpses will
or employees hurrying in order to attend a 9-5 shift that they despise
in order to attain the funds to purchase said items

no businesses or traders
just the constellations in the sky and shrubbery rooted deeply
growing within the cracks of the paving
as though it's natures way of communicating via the universe
gloating, "ha! man can't take everything from me!"