The burn of the past is in the pain of my fingers
as the clouds of tomorrow loom overhead.
The fear of today should have died, but it lingers
and the key to control is in the purr of a cat.

It asks: “What's that sorrow that you speak of so fondly
and profoundly you cling to in the depth of the night?”
And you cringe and you crouch and you cry so resoundly
that the stars' tumbled tears fill with wisdom and fright.

“Even spiders have hearts that are deemed non-existent,”
says the cat who's own heart has never known cold.
The traces of truth in its words are insistant,
so you crumble and crawl to turn heedless things gold.

******* as escapism
desperately rubbing out the pain
***** hair busting out of my underwear

i dont have anywhere to escape to anymore

a dull ache , i want to strip
strip my clothes , my skin, my subjective experience

curl up next to a warm body
water my poor dying plants
but my tears are too salty

the bodies too cold

too much sleepy snow up snot-filled black holes
now heavy weights behind and below the eyes

invincibility sparked by a drug exposed autonomy
like water
i can take whatever shape i form

i can occupy any space in which i put myself
all space

but i am sober now
i would rather occupy no space

cracks of the couch cushion too small
for me to slide into

tea makes me hot

ill sleep naked

All I want is to roam
The skies like the hummingbirds birds do
Yet,
    What’s out there that
     I want it more than
     I want you?
      Freedom,
      perhaps?
    Freedom...Freedom.
However lonely, Freedom.

¡curandero!
¡sobandero!
¡hermano!
¡brujo!

i feel my stomach churn
when i mention home!
i cannot sleep at night!
¡curandero!
please fix me!

¡ay dios mío!
¡niña tu tienes mal aire!
you are a sick child!
too young to carry
so many ghosts!
you must follow my instructions clearly.

¡sobate con un huevo!
rub a cold raw egg all over your body!
make sure you rub the cold surface on your forehead!
it cleanses your mind!
then rub it down your back
to fix that spine!
it will straighten you up!

¡compra una vela blanca!
make sure to light your white candle
at six in the morning and six in the evening.
these are the times when
the sun caresses it’s lips to the horizon.
a beginning and end so mystical
that even ghosts pause to witness the view.
these are the moments where you must
ignite them away.

you must also pray
my child.
pray to whatever divine force
you believe in.

but curandero the only divine force i know
is myself.
how can i heal if i alone am the destroyer?

mija,
there exists no such thing.
you alone are you.
to heal you must destroy.
to destroy you must heal.
escúchame,
you are divine.
the ghosts you keep are not friends.
scare them away.
show them your power.

come see me again,
but when you return,
you will be new.
with the ways of el curandero
you will thrive in
your own cosmos.

Sometimes being real means putting the G in you aside.

Two granola bars in
ten minutes on the bus
sitting next to a stranger
not shy to point out
I'm not using the TV
correctly.

I'm so desperate for human interaction
that I take the criticism with a smile.

I ask the attendant if he has
a video of Joey and I eating
cheesesteak bagels on his pickup bed
in a Walmart parking lot,
or of Shannon port de bra-ing in ballet.
Maybe an audio clip of Kelly
repeating the words "my pretty girl"
until I fall asleep.

He says that all he has is ***** Dancing,
her favourite movie. I guess that will have to do.