I can't tell whether i want to fly or ****.
Help me out. Walk up to me.
Wait, walk into me.
Turn to goo before my eyes,
slide up my nose,
flood my brain,
and rub it hard until I squirt.

I enjoy nighttime's fall of darkness
because when the world is dead
I become alive

As I lay on my bed with a cool fan blowing,
I can almost see darkness, neither hands are showing.
As I lay on my bed, I feel all of my worries flowing
from my head
to my feet
and beyond my cotton sheets.

My eyes are clearer.
The foggy cataracts  that once obscured my way
are carved away, only evident in the glint in my eyes

My gait is rhythmic and even.
Gone is the limp that once slowed my progress, and
only my shoes belie the injury I had suffered

My heart is clean and blameless.
The scars remain. the dents, and cracks, and holes
remind me of where I've been, and tells my story on repeat.

omo Fitutu
nureba ya Fito no
mieturan
yume to siriseba
samezaramasi wo

Was I lost in thoughts of love
When I closed my eyes? He
Appeared, and
Had I known it for a dream
I would not have awakened.

The moon leaks through the tree-blinds as
Your body waits to be claimed,
Laid among the dead narra trees, in the night,
Solemn cries are heard; your flesh becomes one
with the earth, as the wet soil shaped like cradles covers you.

In the trembling rows of the village, behind locked doors.
A mother is holding her stomach, waiting for the release.
In the womb, you sense life beating.
They seem so far away.

There is a phone in my hand,
black and square and shining,
and I wonder if this means it's the end.

My grandmother always said that you would do
anything for the ones you love.
She knew you well, she did,
and now, I wonder if the absence of you is
supposed to be my sign.
It's easy for her to talk about love.
(Her husband crossed the ocean to tell her
how much he needed her.)

So what does it mean when the one you love
won't even pick up the phone and
call you?

I know what it means,
but I still think of your voice through the receiver
and wait.

inside her glass collection
a menagerie of dreams
trapped in the long past