xii.

big hips; small hips and long, skinny legs
people and the worlds inside them
pointing at the screen
which movie should we watch?

the last time i watched movie alone
was divergent
it was an insane ride
and my parents picked me up
knowing i had lost a thing
but they didn't ask
and i didn't tell
i was ***** by poetry

-- i am holy
just like lilith, eve, and mary --

watch out i am trying to heal
so what if i am romanticizing
illness! i am not ill
enough
to lose

my eyes see clear
anabelle, tickets sold out
the people; in hijab, in short skirt
in high heels and slippers
their faces
i see them clear

it looks the same like that friday
just feels different
it has been months
a relatively insane ride
so cathartic

my land may well be a big cathedral
or some sweet mosque
with all the gods
praying to each other
with cold soup in their tongue
and stale milk they offer

to the homeless like us, you know
home isn't really the walls and roof
that keep you from rain and sundust
home is the rain and dust and your sunburned hands and the acnes on your face and
the wounds on your knees
you got when you were learning
to bike

There is a sunset on expansive lake.
Its lip of waves soft with ripples, trembles,
eyes shed tears of falling stars and still ache,
for something other than what assembles.
Such crowds. Acnes of campfires erupt,
on the blank faces of bald dunes, still preserve.
Beach's eternity makes the moment abrupt.
sand through summer fingers cannot conserve.

Oh sun, ease our smallness before the night,
gild inevitability with light.

Why am I not like her?

She has the most beautiful skin,

Remarkable appearance with red plump lips,

Everyone can’t help but wonder as she passes by

How can someone be so pretty?

One Day I came across the thought

Why am I not pretty like her??

I go back and stare at the mirror like never before…

Her body shape like an hourglass made my faint curves shy

Her spotless skin mocked mine with acnes and freckles

Her brown eyes with long lashes while I had bags below my eyes

Her plump lips versus mine that looks dreadful

Why can’t I be like her?

“Maybe because I’m nothing infront of her”

I again take my attention back to myself in the mirror

Just picturing her remarkable feature in my head makes me look ugly

makes me look like a trash, garbage and useless…

Why am I not like her?

I question myself with tears that can’t help but fall down my eyes

I was taught
Beauty is abstract, it can’t be purchased
Later I found people taking 30 days challenges
To get it faked

I was taught
Acnes are due to adolescence
But now people don’t have them
Thanks to Candy Camera Fluorescence

I was taught
Grace comes with knowledge and meditation
But people came with another way
They started shutting down their lactation

No one is black or brown
No one is fat,
No one is frown
Swagger is on high
Spirituality somewhere left to die.

I use this fancy colors on my lips
To cover all these cuts
Wishing that they will all vanish
As I carve a smile on my lips

I use different powders
To cover up my flaws
The acnes due to not sleeping
Considering that anxiety pays another visit

I use concealer to conceal the dark circles
The eyes which are hurt from crying
Everyday and everynight nonstop
Asking for sympathy

I use eyeshadows to add color into my life
Different colors as for I am a pretender
Glitters to show that I stand out
Trying to belong in a group

Trying to hide my real identity
But who am I fooling?
It's no other than myself
Someone who cannot accept her flaws

Once an old man asked me,
"What is art?",
Well, as an unthoughtful kid, i said "painting"
But then he laughed and left me thinking.

I traveled down the street trying to find what art really means,
I dived into the tub trying to think what art can be,
I jumped from above to fly to search art in the sky,
I asked my mom "ummi, what is art?"
She said "go Google it",
But still I can't understand;
I won't understand until someone stand up and tell me that the art is in them.

So I present myself and my humanity
To say it out loud and proud:
Art is my hated hair that the back always stand up,
Art is my dark circles under my eyes begging me to sleep,
Art is my acnes that surround my face and left me annoyed,
Art is the shirt that I bought from the thrift store that has a coffee stain,
Art is when I started to accept of who I truly am.
I tried to see art a little bit clearer
And now I understand that art is
The one that standing crooked in front of the mirror.

I dont know how long its been to brush my hair because i loved it
I dont know how long its been to take a selfie and feeling pretty
I dont know how long its been since i feel good about my self

I look at the mirror to find disgust
Look how unpretty she is
Look at those fat
Look at those acnes
Look at how big that nose
Look at how wide that forehead

She wanted to look good on that lipstic, yet they said she look like a clown
She wanted to look good on that outfit, yet they laugh at her
And she wears lousy outfit
And she forgets how much she like those lipstic
And then she began to wish to dissapear
She wish to be forgotten
She wish to be gone

(1) i have no lungs because my stomach is as large as celestial body;

(2) i have no chest, therefore i don't have heart;

(3) only the ribs make me human & sternum keeps me sane;

(4) my cheeks are too round i've always thought i had no skull;

(5) but at night i'd hear it cracking & the pieces would become acnes on my face;

(6) i have no neck, only the pain that comes from the back;

(7) kidneys sure are something else, they only hurt when it's right.

just bit a plum out of fruit stock
sparkles soared to a dim lamp light
it painted crimson next to the checks
I rotated bulged edges side by side
just to reach the breaking point

observing through wide shut windows
in hundred meters tower
above
when willows fell to dusty moors
how
I landed on a hilly snowy ground
it seems you masterpieced this picture
out of my shattered glass

kicked a fish rod on this fruit's cover
guess tight fishnet returns his fists and *******'s
sugarcoated in seagrass

gates of his citadel placed lifetime guardians
my eyes are on railroad station
in my half-sleep
when trains arrived at schedule
pitbull jumped over the fence
and bit me in my left hand
gnawing young wrist

all along this apartment is filled with air
from now on
laid floors are shaking
and statue of me is.
bit this fruit from an unexamined angle
didn't pass me token
and now I wipe weepy eyes
in sight of stature of you
sobbing in my blanket
but inside I'm two steps ahead

con art in flesh
waving goodbye
picking rotten fruit and
dropping it in a pile of trash
moreso I'm no plum degustator
them acnes will blush my forehead
toyed with you like a child

My body, is where my soul dwells
It feels pain, it feels joy, it feels excitement, It feels sorrow
My bones are my foundation, my flesh made from stardust
My body is the friend with undying loyalty that will be there till I die

My curves, my acnes, my chubby cheeks
These are my insecurities
These are the imperfections of my friend, my home
The mirror, the camera, the eyes of others turn my friend into a foe
I push my friend away, I hate it’s ugliness, I hate that it’s not perfect

No matter if my body is a friend or a foe, it is always with me
Until I fly to the stars