I'm suffocating.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle my throat closing,
no don't call 911,
there's no reason to.

I'm choking.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle the mucus that blocks my throat,
I can spit it up just fine,
so just keep on walking.

I'm coughing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle myself doubled over in pain,
with my chest hurting as I try to sit up straight,
so just ignore me hacking up a lung.

I'm breathing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle hyperventilation without my inhaler,
I don't have to breathe properly to live,
so thanks for just leaving me on the floor.

I'm dying.
But I don't need your help,
it's not like I have no energy to get my inhaler,
you can totally just run out of the room panicking,
it's not like i'm scared too or anything.

I'm angry.
And for some reason,
you can't figure out why.
So leave me alone.
I'm fine now.
I can handle myself.
I don't need your help.

I never said I loved you, John:
  Why will you tease me day by day,
And wax a weariness to think upon
  With always "do" and "pray"?

You know I never loved you, John;
  No fault of mine made me your toast:
Why will you haunt me with a face as wan
  As shows an hour-old ghost?

I dare say Meg or Moll would take
  Pity upon you, if you'd ask:
And pray don't remain single for my sake
  Who can't perform that task.

I have no heart?--Perhaps I have not;
  But then you're mad to take offence
That I don't give you what I have not got:
  Use your own common sense.

Let bygones be bygones:
  Don't call me false, who owed not to be true:
I'd rather answer "No" to fifty Johns
  Than answer "Yes" to you.

Let's mar our pleasant days no more,
  Song-birds of passage, days of youth:
Catch at today, forget the days before:
  I'll wink at your untruth.

Let us strike hands as hearty friends;
  No more, no less; and friendship's good:
Only don't keep in view ulterior ends,
  And points not understood

In open treaty. Rise above
  Quibbles and shuffling off and on:
Here's friendship for you if you like; but love,
  No, thank you, John.

ess eye ell ell why
i feel sil-ly
really really silly.
ess eye ell ell why.

snow comes early this year
in southern climes

- records broken


radio man talks
of a warming globe

- a broken record


seas have risen
many, many times
and frozen, too

- in southern climes


have I shown you
my wooly mammoth tooth?

it's very old.

r ~ 11/1/14

humble ways
of humble men
will crumble in
your apparition

it all
so spoken
retooled in white
sly spoken words      
not heard in public
self derogatory and hidden
you say to who you believe is white
when I am red, just hidden, have a hatred given
from my father's being driven on a long walk their land taken
my soul hears and  i keep quiet to colored words said on the sly I
take it alone wonder why, I am not speaking, up, for my forefathers,
all, who have been taken enslaved driven killed by this white supremacism. My black and yellow and yellow brothers.
I feel. But keep quiet.
feel like a *****.

at dusk
i often climb
to the peak of kugami.
deer bellow,
their voices
soaked up by
piles of maple leaves
lying undisturbed at
the foot of the mountain.

I am a collective of a most  considerate refusal
yelled at 110 decibels like a masseuse gone wild
on top of you jumping try yen to loosen
post or pre menstrual cramping
manipulating selective preemptive
decepting what I mean and what I does
fallowing the child  run or a boar's rut
into your gut
falsify credentials act tough when I get caught
bust a nut every 9 months
into the air usually,
**** can  seams of truth dreamy means
****** . ha