There are words
tucked away
in minds,
to incite,
move forward,
shake cores,
turn hoarders
to minimalists,
create
lists,
tasks,
set to do,
choose for me,
shift between
different places,
draw different
faces,
passing by on
streets
I’ve got a tweet
for each
one of you,
wrapped in
treats,
a delicious bonbon,
desserts of
verbs,
adjectives,
nouns,
and more
words.

Can’t help the way I feel right now.

Can’t pull out a chair for these emotions
or offer a jacket,
can’t catch it if it falls
can’t build walls to protect,
or stop bricks from shattering glass.

I’ve broken all forms of decorum.

Find myself tumbling at the thought,
find myself growing hot, and flustered,
words heavy, avalanches, boulders,
falling, smoldering, ashes,
if I were a cigarette I’d be the ****,
but I can’t seem to do anything about it.

I lack the decorum and the mindset to play this game.

Find myself anticipating the pain
and throwing the match,
lock in, and close the hatch,
over everything.

I think I like you.

Like, like you, like you.

And I find the thought troubles you,
and though I’m glad to stir the second thought
I’d rather not be the one that’s got you
caught, in a confused state,
knots in your stomach, gut pulling
down and flowing into some
intangible sea, oh wait, that was me,
feeling, peeling back layers of truth
that we, of course, didn’t want to do,
seems like reason’s going to lose,

do I have to choose sides?

How about I leave these feelings here,
inside, where they can just hide from view,
and I can just go back to that cruise,
just hold on and don’t lose control,
I’ve dropped pieces of me on the floor,
from the moment you walked through that door
I can’t seem to remember what I came here for
anyway…I hope they’ll lead a trail back.

Just pick up the pieces I let fall slack
and put them back in one place
and wipe this silly smile off my face
lace them with ‘you-shoulda-knowns”
and thoughts more akin to the older woes,
I’m balancing on the tips of my toes
and I can’t let go now.

I’m just gonna bow out and leave,
and roll heart back in off sleeve.

We shall go beyond anything you’ve ever seen,
we will gleam in the darkest of nights,
that one light that says, “It’s ok,
breathe easy now, no need to frown,
see we’ve captured what the down is,
with no intention to let it leave,
just let it be,
and muster within itself,
and trap it, lest it move
into the vortex of your brain
only to give birth to a baby
which it will call pain.”

Wouldn’t it be nice, in reality,  if it all went away?

In all directness I’ve lost my voice.
Enveloped by an irrational fear
of picking up the pen.
Thinking twice about every line.
As we shift and life materializes
before our eyes we find it harder
to say the things worth saying to ourselves.

Calm that beating heart, let it rest.

This life is tumulus.
Like a disappointed teenager
backdoor rebel, your biker
all bruised and blue
the guy who lies to you
out of habit or the girl
who’ll spread her legs
just to make sure beds
stay warm, or the grocer
who’ll stock rotten fruit
to meet the bills or people
who **** for oil, for drugs, for fun.

Disappointed, every last one of them.

So we fight back,
by puffing on our bongs
by disconnecting to our palms
by blasting the music on some large
stereo system, surround sound, or 3D vision
we spray paint on walls, or we fall prey to our whims
we bet on winning three hands straight
or decide we know our own fate,
or some of us just sit,
and wait,
for something, anything to happen
to shatter, to break apart, to give birth to some
black hole that’ll **** it all up and spit out something
back again. Anything we can reshape or begin.

But after chaos comes even more chaos.

And with loss comes anger,
mounted, building, and enraged,
like raised pitchforks chasing town monsters,
oh the horror, some of us might not bare to see it
won’t believe it, or try to bargain it away,
and not feel the earth shake from aftershock.
It’s too difficult to soak it up.
Let’s not tear down what is functioning fine
Just so we can live another lie?
I’m fine with mine, where it rests inside
a mask so well displayed,
that even I believe it some days.

Why change?

The question that lingers on the page,
Stumped by fear of jumping out of comfort zones,
Paralyzed by the thought that home
isn’t where you heart is, but rather,
the space your spirit needs to breathe.

And with that word
the realization of responsibility,
this burden it makes,
this weight that we can’t wait
to throw off to
another day, maybe
another time, maybe
could you keep your voice
down lady? Just after this last drink
baby, and I swear I’ll get back to you,

hey, I want my rite of passage too.

But the world moves too fast,
asks too much, doesn’t know when
to stop, drunk on its own axis,
either get off your *****
or be swept by the tide,
because there’s no where
you can run and hide
no matter how hard you try
you’re gonna have to listen to what you already know.

But guess what happens to people like that?

They grow.

I.  ****** Transient

Overnight takes on new meaning
when the sun never sets and will never rise.

This time i didn’t bring words, i brought lines.

And Esmeralda danced circles around my eyes.
You gypsy ***** You.
Leading me confused,
                  with knees low and back hunched,
                                    into a labyrinth of solitude.

Embarrassed of what exactly?
i’ve barred scars more deep than scars
like profound pools of black sticky tar
that almost suffocates with its gluttony
and still You wouldn’t look away.
And now i pay a price as images intertwine
                           creating zebra patterned designs
                                             on the alcoves of my mind.
         Black, White
They contrast in spite of the connection.
         and I wear this contrast like an emblem,
                  hanging from my throat,
                           heavy on my heart.
                                    yet with the delicate touch of some
                                             slippery silvery chain…
                                                      It almost rids me of the pain.


Back turned or give me the front,
i still want either way.
A petrifying carnival of desire,
making my eyes tire of this display
and my lips itching to play,
a lilac purple tongue,
and bronze arms on the way.

You feign revolution by shutting the door in my face.

A shuddering sigh and flutter of a heart,
                           as caged ribs start to part,
                                   liberated room for more,

i’ve become an emotional *****,
lips wet with anticipation,
pulsating with a passion,
that You defined as infatuation.

And that i just couldn’t define.

-or rather-

defined as a transition in time.

****** Transients* would abstractive-ly be the best,
         but the abstract, once put to the test,
floats past concrete lines,
and creates a world of its own where, even as a stranger,
                  i feel right at home.
                                    Lioness of the abstract dome.


Razor sharp You
        sliced a tingling into the souls of my feet,
        and week after week i did nothing but smile at my own loss
        of balance.

The feminine reemerging as the phallus,
and the phallus in comfort with its feminine home.

         i patiently wait for my Special Kinder Surprise,
                                    and meanwhile,
                                             satisfy myself with imagination,
                                                    ­           to which an interpretation,
         would require the use of a million scholarly texts,
                                    which still wouldn’t attest to this degree
Of Vulgarity,
         or this degree
Of Sexuality,
         or this degree
Of Spirituality.

Like the slaughter of fowl for mythological pride;
                           You hide behind an altar,
                                    and with all the holiness i posses,
I intend to pull through and impress with Determination.
                           --and the petrifying realization—
that You are Artemis and i soon to be set upon by the hound
                                                           - choking ego to the ground.


But ****, it was worth it.

worth the,
vulnerability
worth the,
audacity
worth the,
ecstasy,
-It naturally dissolved within me.

Only to be pushed down by an incessant flipping of the door,
an incessant call to reality.

is the overnight truly Over?
      —or pray mercy and tell me its begun.

The rising Sun seems determined to puncture the fun,
And the valiant battle with Apollo seems already to have been won.



II.  ****** Ensnared
  
I’m getting tired of this ****.

A tantrum fit as if we were kids of three.
Stomping on adult realized priorities.
We wear our hair like a mask,
                  we analyze our clothes,
                           personify the persona we wish to adapt,
         and commend that same personal persona
         complimenting its research studied aura.
                                                    
--I’d rather stay in this dream forever.
  (you judged me by my hair
   yet remained unaware
   to what it masked.)

Please don’t preach to me about consideration.

The obliteration of that term in action shocks me.
Truth be told?—I’m quite Angry, and I feel used,
Yes, believe it or not, Abused.
Infiltrated and Dominated.

And I am a Leo at heart.

So to part with my throne will only be met with roars of defense;
                                                        ­       to be direct, Aggressiveness.


My interlude is met with seclusion—
         isolation to the utmost degree—
and I see that the world agrees, as I’m met
with a phone with no tone
and a power-cut of electricity,
while the world contracts visibly
and the static in the air
ensnares my fiery wrath,
and storms overhead
are weighed down with
anxiety and dread
that express themselves
in raindrops, that I lovingly
call tears.


I fear this is me at my limit---
        And I exhibit nothing but ferocious gloom.

This room which contains me is not enough,
And I will huff
And I will puff
Until the walls come down.
                  And the only sound to be heard,
                           is the numbing effect of silence.

My Rifle stands ready to be shot and plunge through that stubborn heart
of yours until it is rejected or until the reflected opinion dominates. Is it
too much to ask for a change of heart?
Empathy? Understanding?
Basic societ-ical handling?
Apparently yes.
So I detest
having to put in.

The waterworks that I display
convey nothing but submission
to your inconsideration.
                  And the devil in me crosses her fingers
                  for experience by example,
                  as elephants trample over logic
                  and the symbolic is simply symbolic.
                                             That’s too much reason for my taste.
                                             And I see that it was a waste
                                             Trying to impress with determination.

****** Ensnared has denied a nation of people their feelings,
                  listening, with unappealing resolution
                  satisfying herself with this conclusion:
                  “Let them eat Cake.”


--It’s true.
You can’t have your cake and eat it too.



III. ****** Verbalize

On a park bench it took me quite by surprise,
my eyes met with scripture
recognizable though not to my hand,
the band on my finger tightened and
yet the anger seized.
         -- How could I not have surmised ****** Verbalize to enlighten me?--


“Your Majesty;
         I owe you My Apology-
                  And I couldn’t be sorrier for my selfish self
                  has decided to rest after this long period.

For She was too busy
trying to make you feel safe and home
--She was too busy trying to suppress her ****** up
whipped cream so that you can have you cake and eat it too—
But She failed.

        You believe ****** is selfish,
then I’m afraid you never knew ******.
                  --****** loved you with wide arms open and she
                  Was pleased to meet you.

She hopes it was a useful transition for You.

.THE END.
The ******”

OVER

It’s when it’s late at night I think of you
My.
Surrounded. with your presence
intense…that for that moment pillows
take your form And you’ve broken into
my home late at night Mother asleep
safe and tight And you in my sheets
Fingers treading up and down spine
Senses heighten…except for the sense
of time. Look to the phone once again
Hoping just this time, give in.
Let go ego let you live in peace
Let go ego and give it back to me.
And I promise…nothing no harm

I’ll fight off the world while I still have arms.

So everyone’s here;
we watched you approach  with trepidation,
mingled with a sensation of hope.
We took **** after **** waiting for
the streets to clear. To dispel all fear
and welcome this world with open arms,
a wonderful world, rid of harm,
and it came as such an alarm that despite it all,
after the war, there was no calm.

Dear Mark, we didn’t want you to see this.
Couldn’t believe this could happen, that we’d
be left, mouths open and standing, grasping
and gasping because we didn’t know
what else to do. Standing on
the sidelines just to watch us loose.

Mark, we walked across distant miles,
tripped over deserts, cities, and distant
smiles, channeled through channels like MBC
from across the seas we could see what
they were seeing, wanted to come close and heal it
but everything got in the way,
so day after day the smile slipped.

We learned to push beyond wit,
to get with it, or be swept by the sighs,
to cry when no one’s watching and let
nothing provoke, and again, **** after
****. No one woke. The dream was too
real. And we believed it.

Mark, I feel so much disgust, so much so
that I’d rather not end this with hope, not
allow the world to look towards a better
day, I’d rather not say it’ll be ok and just lay
me down to rest tonight. I’d rather give up the fight.
I’ve never been the competitive type.

Dear Mark,

I’d like to express my regret,
We’ve suffered a great loss.

And all
at the cost
of nothing.

(Life does come easy these days.)