I don’t want to consume art to escape my life
I want art that makes me confront my life
I want art that uncovers my blind faults
and reveals my secret triumphs.
What do I need to change?
Why do I need to change?
How do I need to change?
And why is the time for change now?
These questions help me escape from needing escapism.

I’m worried for my country and myself.
Microscopic maybes master my maze.
The undead use the unborn to fight the living.
If I were a zygote would they love me more?
I guess what could be is more appealing than what is.

I had a boyfriend with a mental illness
his name was Mental Illness.

Smile of shiny white enamel
radiant down to the dentin

sprinkling ******* on skinny brown blunts
drowned in Kentucky bourbon

fluorescent tubes encased in the ceiling
are fixated above candlelit chandeliers

during the storm the thunder seems like ripples
from lightning bolts that have already struck

trees are split in two (never equally)
a fire lies in the part that is one

the forest floor is filled with fallen trees and dead leaves
ashes fertilize survivors for growth.

Mangled by a gang of doppelgangers
the gangly are ganked by the gander

making advancements in cloning from advancements in clothing
and discoveries made through jean manipulation

facsimiles of progress betray judgement
a hamster wheel is made from a barrel of Kentucky bourbon

two hamsters run in opposite directions, butting heads
until they're teeth are chipped—down to the dentin.

Hong Kong protesters out in the streets
It's there they clash with police
Fighting to avoid legislative defeat
That would put them in the reach
Of the government's gripping grief

Hong Kong was a place to hide from fascism
But became a mad schism
Driven by hedonism
Justifying a decision
For China to make an incision

Meanwhile in Mexico
They're telling the rest to go
Back to their own country
Because a fascist is hunting
Using social issues for stunting
To distract from economic punting

Mexico was a tolerant purgatory
For those avoiding a death so gory
That nobody would know their story
As the drug cartels take all the glory
With the police and politicians they're affording
Using all the drugs they're exporting

These places used to be safe havens
From corruption laden
Militant ravens
Who are actually craven
Hiding behind guns and the arraignment
Of any other tribe walking their pavement

Now there's nowhere to escape
From the horrible hate
In this globalist state
So the noblest slate
Is to no longer wait
And set things straight

There’s a difference between dignity and pride
you can lose dignity without even trying
but shedding pride is a constant battle.

A good church is a cord connecting a community
God's umbilical cord connecting humanity
like the cords connecting the computers, cameras and microphones
the AV team meets every week to uplift a hundred seats
before worship practice starts they connect with one another
providing lines of praise and prayer tracing their hopes and fears
running diagnostics
checking the cords connected to instruments,  lighting, earpieces
removing the frays and knots
because the sermon runs smoothly when all the cords have been checked
the cords run throughout the church and up the band's spines
the voice of God lets them know they'll be playing the bridge again
so everybody throws up their hands and sings along
their vocal cords trying to hit tonal chords
cords of water connecting eyes to mouths shows
the congregation is plugged in
because the cords have been properly checked.

Sorry
I didn’t mean to be rude
or offensive
or to harass you
I know it’s not polite to stare
but just so you know
not everyone staring at you thinks you’re **** as ****
and if you must know
I wasn’t staring at you because you’re beautiful
I was staring because you reminded me of someone I once knew
who was **** as ****.