she works at 17
watching her mother suffer
watching her sister play
watching the dogs bark

when the kids have had their fun
and the slient day returns
there’s only room for mistake
as she grows older than 17

I remember that age
feeling the paper like sanding paper
and the flies like pigeons inside the house
without money to support the whole family
without a family to support the animals

a dad without a job
a sister without a degree
and maybe her moms dreams were the only thing real

Why must god make me beautiful
in the darkest places of my life.

I can’t imagine peace and beauty in one place.
Only melancholy and a glazed face.

Why is that the puffed face
red eyes, and quivering lips
Get the attention of passerby’s in hope i am that art gallery.

why must god make us like pearls in the night.
Taken for granted, and used to bring something to the picture.

Let me go of this horror and let my mind rest and rot.
if all I can be is a well painted canvas, with a hole on the other side.

let it be ugly then ?
for that too is freedom, and beauty cannot be taken for granted without what I feel.

Time is a construct.
When there is a certain time that comes.

It obstructs our perception.
We want to run away.
We want to find the exit.
And somehow still bring ourselves in one piece.

I'm in a world that is  breaking
my heart.

Looking at pictures i saw
what i thought could’ve been me.
I have this exact feeling over and over.
Strangers and passersby
yet i question the sanctity of it all.
A slight hint of difference in the shape, a
slight improvement on the face.
Maybe the way her hair falls.
It runs so deep now,
but how could i have known
i was next to be destroyed inside
by a man that can’t hide his most ugly side.

The dust mites like to eat.
The moths like to feast.
I tried to feed them
I tried to give them.

Glory, glory, glory
can you make the gory sight go away?

The mice trickled down my spine
and every time the sound of wet
chewing of paper wrappers under
the counter, I cover my ears.
I can't face the sob story.

You, with your mask, so sly,
Return only when I've said goodbye.
When I'm fine, standing tall and true,
You reappear, like a ghost, out of the blue.

I just want to look into the sun
sinking down.
many people want run
striking down.
I just want to wake up to sun
hear the fabulist sing
and maybe know I understand.

I just want to walk around the sun.
I've been thinking about cycling.

I tried again to tie my shoes
I tried to not get them in the mud
and I tried to be the one to tidy the sole
but all over again I notice it's the same pair I've been wearing for so long.

Have your atoms
soaked in mist of another
finally given up on you?

Is it true that the collision of us
is etermal in this universe;
when there's more space to
cover the surface of your superficial love.

Tell me then, why don't you
eat the pulp of it all.

Then again, you were merciful to me
and not to those around you.
Should that be a crime to me?

Things you should leave alone
I can't tell you what I've done.
I need someone to tell me what to do
what to eat, what to like, when to like, how to like.

as I circle around the circle of gas
twenty times, I am still as lost.
Please don't have a written response.

enjoy your life with her.

There will be no answer.
And I will find myself again.
At swallow Clift step after step.

Rolling hills of gravel,
And sun hitting the sweat like it’s dew.

Do I deserve this ?
Am I worthy?
Things I would say when I didn’t believe in my name.

But the hunger grows inside of me.
How much do I want it ?

When I leave I find the peace
in a world where I choose
where to be how to be
I have yet to settle.

When November comes around
I can only think of death.
The arms of faith and the past.  
One can fear the endless nights
but I've found that fearing the truth
of one that has lost its other fragment
is the more excruciating death.

When the only thing left is is looking at
the remaining pieces of a constant.
Something that will never change
But I tie it to things I can't get a grip on.

so tell me now, if it can only be
when the overwhelming feeling of the night
takes over.
With cold front,  a kiss from a stranger,  and wandering mind can end this bending of time inside of my womb.

At first they stumbled into their seats
And the bus took of from that random street,
I didn’t know it could be sweet; lately it’s been kind of busy.
They chuckled and their eyes creased and oh how nice it must be.
They didn’t speak, later she stood up frantically.
For a few seconds I saw the eyes of a lover who worries for the one
I saw them glance, as in a hurry to dance
But I wasn’t anywhere near that, in fact I was just sitting perpetually waiting for my stop and watching them like swans in a pond.
How I saw them leave in different directions made me weep.
But there is nothing more sweet than seeing it form in others instead of me.

Vivi por ahi, con dos camisas una sucia y una limpia.
A Veces frotaba la cara en la sucia y mi conciencia me mataba.
La otra a mi lado no se dio cuenta.
No era algo que a mi me gustaba.
A veces deseaba que la camisa me hablara, que me dijera estoy aquí y que podía ponerme la.

Y cuando se dio cuenta, me tenia reconcor.

Lake that glistens tame to the bare eye.
When you come across it suffocates.
Although it's beautiful and melancholic,
there is a darkness surrounding it.

Pero que la piel se quede asi,
de leche y azucar.
El tono de tu ser en el viento
se da a un tono rojizo.
Aun que la lluvia moje tu cabello
y se vuelva el color  mas cercano a el amanacer
que quiebra la luz.
Rayos cerca de mi, para mi.

Lo pienso y lo que quiero.
Si tu me viste ese dia, y tu pretendes
ser alguin indifferente. Talvez tendre que
ver el azul de tus ojo una vez mas.

Y cuando pases a lado de mi tendre girar
y decirle al viento suavemente las minimas
palabras que quiero que escuches.

Catching the glance of an
Almost stranger almost friend.
Catching my own breath, the seconds
Prolong. Drifting my attention back to the
Speaker.
Legs tired as they touch the ground beneath.
My eyes suddenly aren’t mine.
The dirt of my palms, sand of the turf.

Your eyes reflect the lightest blue
A mirror of me
They never stopped looking while I was lost in
Attention.

It's not my fault they repeat,
they chant, it in the air and it grasps my hair.
and maybe across my heart, I wish it was.
Then I would hate, yes, I would scream, cry, point at that thing.
Instead, now I do it all at the person who I don't even know
And maybe it was late when I clung onto him as his hands caressed my face and got tangled in my hair.
the lies of a liar never end in this
everlasting affair.

Although the truth always comes to float,
a giant hole was punched through me.
I felt as if my life had thrown me back to
the crowd's fallen hurdle and cynical laughter.
The person I envisioned in my future, that person I
wanted to smell through my pores wasn't there next to me.

Although the trees choose what leaves fall, winter is melancholic.
It is expected spring and summer, but what is it about my leaf?
My dear, the expected, the promised.  
Now that I had seen its crevices. It was to let go.
Ugly, disturbing, underwhelming, and maybe
a bit rotten.
Where is my summer,
my spring days?

The maple leaf is here,
and when I watch it,
the crows watch me.
There's a breeze that I can catch
in the quicksand pit stomach of a bear.
to be a child again as I
let go, it feels like I'm old
But my birthday passed and the chains made noise
but oh how nice to finally see the light,
in a never-ending maze I feel happy.

Partly because
im trapped in.
Partly like bubble wrapped
Forced into a box and told id be loved.
I wanted to look at the moon at the same time you did.
Feel how your palm sweated.
I wanted to be witness to a love Id say yes to.
Remembering those moments,
episodic memory that its feelings contradict.
Theater room sat
Sore and lonely
As words, phrases, and sentences escaped from your lips and travelled to those around you.
I am the decoration to your walls.
Yet I knew that you were the faux fur under the promising sun.
And now I was waiting for another day
To drag along and find an excuse
To end this gut of a feeling.
Because it is true
And that liars like liars

Like those foul
Smelling flowers
That seem perfect along
The sidewalk of a suburban house
The air and soft strawberry light
I feel like them.
Ruining the experience in hope that I too bring something to the picture.

I heard from a musician
cities ​with awful music and
Timid corners- will dry
your pores leaving your
face chalky and unwell.

To do what a musician
does and mix it with
Bone and tendons that makes this
Scramble of feelings that swell.
Oh alexander... This middle name.

I was told I looked like Kimi but
I guess I act as if the luck of my penny
From my loafers were gone.
Oh Alexander my luck is gone.

Can you hear the plead of my dreams.
I dream of fragments of war, my wonder
Of a pearl that I see glow, that I've let roll.

In truth I write Alexander
To somehow let you linger
And maybe I'll pretend like
I've never had to let you go.

The mud I swing above of.
She told me to take my time as
The change from the
strawberry ice cream began to roll.
My sage green coin purse.
I wish to leave this town
Neither small or big but
It seems like knows me more.

The waters of march.
Known for the rain and yet
The tears wont dry because its warmer outside.

Wondering if the acid in my stomach
Has had enough of me.
Wondering if the doctor can still
swing like a child for comfort.

In a few months
Ill have to go
But i wonder if
I'll be swinging still
Lamenting.

Tongue of the wise  .
Vida mia.  
I tie the lasso around.

Intoxicated and medicated,
the burn that leaves my crystal
passage of wellness.

Im serving tables and they
tables serve me.
This industry of destruction
where the powder in the bathroom
is laid on in lines.

My bone and flesh don't
stand on its own.
The coin is worth more.

It's only right to let
you celebrate, the
freedom that will go-
that you deserve.

Visions I see,
it's only right to keep
you blind. Play with
you, playdate.

Stillness of nameday,
shame that your name
isn't truly yours
but a reminder
of a tragedy

Flat yellow ground
The prairie I've known,  
the old and new grounds.
Walking away from the lonesome day.  
I've asked with a whimsical rays
like as of basquiat.

The green of the night
follows the yellow of the
everlasting warmth
surrounding the north.
The chant of the wind
and its sores in the afternoon.
I'm not there but
"Oh, I'd like to see it once more."

To impress the souls
that bare their
pace in these
crowded hallways.

Uneasy blue,
fluorescent lights.
You suddenly walk slowly.
A side eye, a glimpse,
of a crescent moon
that won't dare change direction.

Grief, jealousy, disappointment.
My gown glowing.
Standing feeling weak.
The walls are loud.

Walking away like
the contact of our eyes,
"I lost something."
But remembering
calls you, and I have
lost you.

I watch the kids.
Brown broken glass
around them.

Over it I fell,
Peace and glory to the night
Showing you that an
image is free and indulgent
permissive and letting.

To discover a name,
a sweet nothing in my ear and to believe
that the future is near.

I stare that, of eyes and I hold in my hand, lies.

Gates that seemed too short.
Woman who speaks
on your behalf I came to see.
The bone colored outside.

Tinted windows and a mist
Of your washed hair.

We walked as three
As we waved goodbye to
The mellow tree.

And when were alone
You'd laugh when your
neck tingled

Jammed and dammed
Days before school.
Longing for it to go away.

Heavenly scent Laundromat.
I am not in the picture yet
true cicadas were quiet.

I drain from my teeth,
the gesture of the chew
the spitting it out with a
handful of them dry.

                         Jolting verses from the steps
                         down the empty downtown.
                         Acting career in a city where,
                         Everyone carries their words
                                                                                  Lightly and tight.
                                                                                  My passion is an
                                                                                  Apartment with a
                                                                                  a tiny door and one
                                                                                           burner.

I was born and my role was determined
To love I was capable of,
I knew the change before it occurred.
When the rooster woke me up I knew,
The dishes, the table and someone’s lunch.

One day,
I’ll have to conform myself
to the role I was born into.
Oh, the identity of me will be gone.  
And I will form someone
From the womb.

I’ll be grateful that he’ll come to me,
When the silver of the night reflects on the pond.
Next door everyone’s asleep.
I’ll be there next to kitchen.
Like a doll.

When I die I’ll regret it all
A life I couldn’t choose and
People I ended loving,

I am there staring at the sign.
Cladophora algae
the great lakes.
They sway inviting me into
the rising waters.

Alone there, with no fish.
Pebbles and sand shake my hand.
Getting ***** is something I can't withstand.
And yet here I am looking at the lake.

It wants to eat me alive.
Drowning me on the way to maybe the otherside.
on a little wisconsin bay.
Where fishermen are congratulated for giving their lives in winter
and I am frowned upon for giving it up
in the spring.

Ridges preserved to notice the value of you.
Beggars on the street have sweet words.
Lure you in to give them you.

Days pass, and shavings of you are missing.
Flat, rustic, disharmonize.
I only see you some days.
On others you are passed around.

Taproots that grow in me.
Ink on paper, sitting in the corner.
Walking in and out.
A gasp,
A glance,
It's love of short time.

When rain miraculously touches your body
isn't turned into glass.
The constant gaze of rivalry.
Barefoot across the fields you run,
Nails in a dream.

Barebones,you, against
the water,dreaming,
pearls in the night
"Dancing in the courtyard."

"You stand out", they tell you.
Tight passages that murmur,
the sound of your steps
I yearn for walls to not mimic them

"Dancing around the corner."
Pearls on her neck, chained,
You too, seem to enjoy the attention.
Maybe, "I stand out to her."