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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Just in a gallon the smell of you on a shelf,
I have lost the way back from that scent,
I have grown and ached from that day,
I have yearned for the scent even if I deny it.

It gets me off guard when the elevator
opens and the air fills my
nostrils with you again.

Saying hello to the past
swaying away in an instant
never grasping the truth.

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,

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

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.

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.