In the day's
dying rays,

I wonder,
        "Isn't this better"

when i slip into
a phase, I find it
exhuasting now.

every minute, a test of character.
every hour, a new demon to fight.
They hide inside, chip away at the interior, until it's like peeling paint.
Those days, I feel barren and broken, my detail is failing.
I watch jagged pieces splinter away and drift in the air
cruelly landing underfoot in
the crackly, dead leaves
that the streetsweeper missed that week.

"But what if..." it says. And that's all it takes.

I become frigid inside.
I feel it slide in my brain, clicking
and prying inside.
crooning, throat just out of reach; caressing, hands just out of reach
until it slaps me to the familar ground,
where I frantically gasp.
It's laughing now, as I curl back to darkness,
wiping my silent tears from my red cheek and my cramping heart from my sleeve.
My head pounds as my
unwelcome, yet comfortable
friend of mine simply
opens the door.

I can't even lock it.

i find it hard
to turn inwards
when all my life has
been outwards, forwards, new words
but i hardly know why.

gravity pulls my body silently,
effortlessly to earth, as i
begin to drift in the stratosphere
a bird's eye view, i see everything
except nothing, which i know im
looking for.
yet, i hardly know why

i hardly know why
i feel betrayed.
so alone in this vacuum.
will i cry into the blackness, or
must i just light it on fire.
send smoke signals, call the doctor,
she's lying here dead. her visions went unanswered
unjustified, unsaid.

i hardly know why
i landed on earth.
i'm calling out loud, but im getting
the reverse.

i hardly know why
my emotions seem scattered
so invasive, agressive, and frankly too many
i can't stop, can't see, overload
help me.

but i hardly know why

and i hardly know me.

i really hated it when you kissed
my cheeks. your beard was so scratchy.
in fact, i always dreaded that part. i think you
would laugh if we talked about it now.

your chair outside, to watch the mountain
was always there. and every morning you'd sit there.
you'd shuffle down the hall, wearing your beret.
you'd give me cantaloupe even after i told you i
didnt want any. im not entirely sure whether you could hear me and
gave me some anyway, or really just couldn't hear me.

i can't remember your voice. it kills me.
i remember you'd take forever at scrabble. i really miss that
you'd always eat french vanilla ice cream and sit at the head of the table. even after, it
took awhile for anyone to sit there.

when i go back, it looks different. the walls are white
now, clean. not smoke covered gray. when i painted it, i wondered what
you would think. that ugly linoleum in the kitchen
is now replaced with tile. it looks good.
even still, i only see the rug and the red chairs in the living room.
it could never be anything else.

sometimes i go in your room. i find letters you wrote.
i try to picture you writing it. i can. i can't imagine you as ever
being young without your beard and glasses. you seemed so wise, how could that ever have been
different. im told i have your eyes. your spirit. and your drive. i think my dad has
it too. its nice. thanks, for passing that along.

i wish i'd known you longer. you never heard me
play cello. i think you would have liked it.
      i told my dad the other day " i miss the old guy "
i like to think you laughed at that.

so i just wanted to tell you, i think about you. i hear you in the wind.
i know its you. i think you'd be proud of me, the little sprite girl.

and, Baba, i wish i'd let you kiss my cheeks.

we run for our lives
away from death, and
our feet become dusty,
as we look back frantically, scanning,
inhaling short bursts of air. we can't stop
even as we trip, and let escaped sobs
burst out. trying to remember

as you see
behind.you , terrified

as much as we run for our lives
from death, eventually running
for life is only death;

we someday must stop to breathe.

our skyline is hazed
and our system a maze
the streets are lined with
blood
and all you see is mud

you, political giants
billionaires in chairs
pretending like you care
when all you do is claim its "fair"
your lying to the poor
as they die on their kitchen floors

you are not above humanity
even in your mighty vacation house its insanity
who are you to say
that you are to pave the way:
you claim democracy
we see hippocracy

you cheat the poor
to get rich more
is it so hard for empathy
you arn't charged with a felony

your racism defines you
yet somehow they defy you
maybe as you bomb their land
and say you are here to save their band

look here, ******, can't you see
nothing is simply what i seems to be
how can you see fault in
when you can't even see past the color of skin