this absurdity of words blowing up the windows
so that some forget their names
life crumbles in rooms without walls
we are trapped between the skin and the moon
the world prepares us for dying in the most explicit way
through its calculated violence
trapped in the hive of fear
she is also an enlightened despot
one might get trapped without noticing
when we want to be free to be kite tamers
escape routes vanish in the dictatorship of cruelty
blood is currency in the exchange of illusions
one day can last as long as a life time
the horizon brings no relief from sunset

You and I—
we feel,
we love,
we regret.
Yet we remain
the binding particle
of a formless self.

They divide us,
pit us against each other.
We found safety
for thirteen days.

Before dawn,
we felt the breath
that seeps through cracks
into minds like a narrow thread of force,
and the fog spilled out.

Above our heads, false stars
created by warm bodies
to annihilate
what passed through the gate
of a birthing woman.

We write words to conjure
happy endings
at the ball of extermination
that tears apart
the pulsing light
of a thousand veins.

Please sit with me
before you go
Do you feel it—
the mourning procession
of human beings
transforming into a state of fission
and drifting away?

And a sigh is so sad
of trembling atoms
when the victim becomes the destroyer.

Feel the force of the fall,
and do not shatter hope
even if the world
trembles to its core
because there is still YOU,
still ME,
and still

OTHERS.

It was exactly late at night
When first appeared the faint Moonlight
It steady rose up through the trees
To touch the water in the breeze
And as an hour slowly past
It's fullness showed itself at last

You are reading this
Because you are programmed to
Turn your brain on now

I just came from the cafeteria. In a shocking twist,
I have to actually meet people, I mean, can you imagine?
And we have group projects, my least favorite thing,
except perhaps, having a gym class.

The cafeteria was so crowded—didn’t I see you there?

Everyone there seemed to be wearing vintage Urban Outfitters.
I felt left out, but no one openly pointed at me.

Next, I expect to see bubblegum patch vests, skate-fit jeans and leopard-appliqué flats.

Between us, I’ve gotten old, and lost what little fashion game I had.
Now I’m modulated, that is, I’m over over-indulgence.

When I pictured myself in college, ***, what, a half a decade ago?
I imagined myself in a Lime Fizz Dress from Modcloth.
THAT never happened—which is all for the good.

School and by extension - school work - is definitely happening.
It’s not all studying while drinking back-to-back espressos at sunrise.

This week’s assignments due are: a ‘reflective assignment’ on qualitative research methods, a policy memo, a case analysis, and a group presentation. Argh.

So if you don’t hear from me—I haven’t been deported—I’m just oppressed.
.
.
Songs for this:
This is Why by Paramore
Lauren by Men I Trust
Margaret by Pomegranate tea [E]

Red, the vibrancy of the rose
hidden
the little garden smiles after the rain
filled full of compassion
she is my sanity
in a world
that has gone insane
she is the sunrise
when sunsets are only
flames