Is my mother really dying?
Spiritually, I know
Lord, it's hard not to feel broken in two
Legs bent backward, arms twisted behind my back
Chest heaving,
Heart throbbing
Pain, pain, go away
Come again some other day

I can hear your spirit calling my name
The clay of my land invoking my name
My body is broken and my soul is gone

My principe Azteca resurrect from the dead
Heal my wounds to fight again
I only have my arrow and my bow
And like a hunter I will rescue my soul

Mi principe Azteca white men have come from a foreign land
They murdered our sisters and sons –believing we have no souls

They took our land
They took our gold
They took our freedom
Destroyed our souls in the altar of our gods

My principe Azteca kiss me with your lips of immortality
And with my bow and arrow i will aim straight to their hearts
becuase oh God they deserve to die

My principe Azteca sacrifice my heart
But please don’t let them suffer anymore
Let me rescue their souls.

Trace figure eights along my body
and stop apologizing.
Lets find out
if the damage
can be undone.

I ****** up.
fell for someone who could never
care for me, and I'm paying
the **** consequences.
I got too lost
too fast
too wrapped up in
who I wanted you to be,
and not who you are,
or what you're capable of.

oh, inconsistent me.
crying out for
consistency.

Cigarette in the Sunday sun
Its cold despite its overbearing presence
the overbearing presence of
planes overhead,
dogs barking,
screaming children loosed from morning service,
grinding steel wheels on a rail road track,
cat calls,
coughing,
laughing,
cussing,
imagined smiling.
The world spins,
tips,
teeters,
and I dance on its edge
songs strangling my lungs.

Bright milky white smoke suddenly banished by the wind,
bringing forth two lovers who met on a whim.
Kinetic spirited colored feathers lured others.
Mothers, Fathers, Sisters, Brothers, join together.
For this ceremony will come to an end,
we will then rise like the sun.