GMO foods punch holes in cells
permeate the gut, creating gaps in guts
Leading to food floating in bloodstreams, rivers of pain
Food allergies, ulcers, IBS .... these are the milder troubles
I won't speak of  IBD, Cancer and Crohns disease
Babies born now allergic to foods, children allergic more than ever
They said, though the BT injected crops killed bugs, bursting their bellies
that they were still safe for humans....They were wrong!
Now these GMO crops are causing a myriad of gastro problems in people!
Food crops are now Roundup ready in the
Killing Fields.


Videos to watch:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FS72J9bDvPM&feature;=relmfu
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6D3TUk-XX1o&feature;=relmfu


TOP FOODS TO AVOID (unless labeled organic)
Corn
Soy
Potatoes
Canola, Cottonseed Oils
Sugar, fructose, corn syrup
Dairy - except organic
Tomatoes - except organic
Papaya/Hawaiian
Helpful links:  
www.naturalnews.com/035734GMOsfoods_dangers.html
http://truefoodnow.org/

We had recovering drug addicts come in
Talking to us with their sunken
Ashy eyes
And sweaty palms
You could tell they were nervous by the
Way they carried themselves
Cinder blocks and
Broken piano parts
And their pasts
All clinging to them,
For life support
They talked about how easy
It was to let gravity eat you alive
As you are falling into a black pit
You can’t stop the falling
Their wings were bound to
Pseudo lovers who
Gave them bruised arms
And blue fingers.
If you are lucky enough to
Escape the clenched hands of
Addiction,
The rest of your life will
Be a walking tightrope act
Trapeze dancers
One slip and you are falling
Even faster
Harder than before.
And your family, friends,
Everyone you have ever known is
In the audience watching you
Fall into your premature grave
And there is nothing they can do
But tell you to fly
But you cant
Because you just love your
Mistress too much
To ever let her go.
And they warned us about
How hard it might be to say no
To not let the circus come into
Town, but if you do
Only you can pack up the
Lions, clowns,
Colorful balloons.
Someone asked them if they
Believe drugs should be legalized
And he responded with
If I walk into a gas station
And see drugs for sale I will
Not be able to hold myself
Upright.
But I also do not want a government
Establishment to tell me what I can
And cannot ingest into my body,
So I don’t know.
Newton’s First Law of Motion
States that something will keep moving
Unless some force acts upon it.
And once you start drugs
Or gambling
Or skipping meals
it will progressively
Worsen in time.
Festering in bloodstreams
Until you decide to stop it.

The blood boils inside my veins, heating every road in my bloodstreams corrupting my nervous system until there's an earthquake.
How can I save myself when rescuing myself means dying?
Surviving
that's all we try to do.
But when living is so hard and dying is so easy it makes me wonder,
why are we still breathing when a knife, a safety pin, a pencil sharpener blade can take it all away?
It seems we're addicted to pain.
Whether in the form of trying to escape or trying to get by
and I can't figure out which is worse.

-k.d.

I told you to trace my finger prints.
Hug me like you were about to say goodbye.
I'm trying to decide whether or not you were pretty.
Brushing clouds off of the sky.
Go ahead and tell me that there were days
when you loved me.
Tell me my kisses felt like ripples
on a raindrop.
You built me.
Showed me how lightning made things
pretty right before it burned them.
Stripped the crystal from my eyes
and strung them into a chandelier.
I've reset my heartbeat.
And it's been telling me I need to see you again.
Gotta remember what love is.
Take me back to the last time
that we were laughing
and show me that there is more to this life
than what blood gives us.
Hold my brittle bones.
Would you be my friend?
Remember how I built you that tree house?
Thought we would paint each others
futures on the window panes
and skip rocks across our bloodstreams.
Write me a love letter on my granite spine.
I'll trace my pulse onto your ribcage
and tell God that you need someone special.
Let me poem you a swing set
so you can remember why you
were a child.
Give me a reason to hold another girl's hand.
Do you remember what love is?
My slate has been wiped clean
and I've been trying too hard
to lean on these crutches.
Lived in my rubble.
Cut open the belly of the beast
so its anger could plant seeds in my head.
You scraped my poems off of your eyelids.
Didn't I already say I'm sorry?
Buried fireflies in a mason jar and
told you they were my soul.
Painted bluebirds in the sky and
carved tree branches in my neck.
You built me.
Sewed marionette strings to my veins
and showed me the right way to move.
There's no way we can let our past go.
I seem to have lost my way.
Won't you be my friend?
Show me what I've missed.
Show me the right way to hold this broom
so I can sweep up this glass.
Bury this casket
and move through it.
Give me a plane crash.
Tell me there were times
when you couldn't let go.
Back to that place where we
buried our memories in a hope chest
and prayed that time would make it pretty.
You built me.
Made my pupils into runways
and gouged these canyons into my heart.
I ask that you carry my name with you.
Cradle my marble spine.
Spit at the ashes of our love life,
and mold it into a shape that we'll remember.
Everything seems to be prettier when you look back at it.
Do you know why that is?
Do you know why we fell for each other
like children on a playground?
I've been writing down nothing but wishing wells.
Spinning yarn that has too much color
and coughing up words that sound too perfect.
I'm glad we're friends.
Take this loaded gun from my hand
and replace it with a kite string.
Tell me my voice was like a blanket.
I wish I could make this night more colorful.
Paint songbirds on my chest.
And hope we find our way
home.

in the landscape of you
I am a wandering soul
with but my words
                for protection
as I make you my goal
in the expanse of your vista,
I wear the cloak of our depth
your heartbeats in mine
as we breathe
           the same breath
I feel your rugged peaks,
your valleys that sink
your core's wildflower essence
that stains me with ink
I bathe in its fragrance,
a tattooed poet's imprint
in the primal spheres in my being
enveloping my core
all the clearer
          for seeing

and when your rough
                 tempest storms
are afar, yet in view
I dive straight to
                  their center
into the magnet of you
for
     I will water your deserts
infuse fresh creeks
                        in your dry
I will run through your forests
as I call to your wild
as I straddle your cliffs,
festoon your tundra
             with blooms
steam will rise from
                your earthcore
and fill up my womb
Through the dew on our lashes
through my lava that flows,
the stars in your eyes
make my universe glow

these geographic measures
                                 I take
as you let me inside
our bloodstreams merging
as we get lost in the tides
electric pulsed woodlands
that spread iced wildfires
slaking the loops
  of floodgates' desire
and I will hold you together
if you fall, torn apart
bonded forever
in this map of our
                    hearts

I didn’t mind the incongruence of our hearts
as we melted together like sticky-sweet ice cream
on a nostalgic summer day, and I wore your
fingerprints on my collarbone like a proud
working man’s necktie as our molecules collided
between our bodies in a miniature mosaic we
couldn’t see – but we could feel

Our bloodstreams were helium and our
organs were neatly-knotted balloon animals
and trumpets pounded behind our eardrums
as we tried to stay afloat in our makeshift raft
in the turbulence of Maybes and What Ifs
but you choked on reality as I tried to
breathe you a sonnet

And the piano burdened our lungs as
I tried to free the confusion from your eyes
but they hid in your lashes and fluttered
against the tip of my nose and invited a
cathartic sneeze, and I felt like a jagged
paper cut-out but you were smooth lines
and symmetry

I don’t know when the yelling started or
when it ceased but the red stains on my face
were the only recollection I needed and
I packed my things in an origami suitcase
and treaded down the spiral stairs and exited
from the top story on wilted-flower wings

Woke up early like I always do, no matter what I'm going through I sit and contemplate my present situation, like is this life worth living or am I wasting it, I got plans for myself but with what I know, I know there's a possibility of removing it from the shelf of possibilities, sometimes I can't control myself, so I get ******* let some shots off and restock, my life is just a ramble that needs to be reshocked like defibrillators to your live stock, cause global warming turned to climate change and they make it seem it's not an issue by keeping your mind invisibly encaged and your nose in the tissue, I've been changing, so when it comes to blaming there's no one to blame but the cats who put our work to shame, **** the industry it's why I live in infamy like the US has for practically an entire century, continuing forensically but fail to catch their own trace of criminology, instead blaming you for your ideology passed down from generations along with theology, some things are more believable like the inconceivable evil that's injected inside the bloodstreams of my people, makin them turn from people to machines, **** that I'd rather be trapped in Saturn's rings but sometimes it's hard to stop some things

- This world has been ruled, dominated, and conquered for thousands of years.. I think it's about time to let that **** lay to rest -

Man I've been living for quite some time, and all I've seen is the world go from a bright shine to a darkened shrine, but I guess that's what will happen when you're born into a world that's already fastened their seatbelts for a global blastin, end the nukes end the fed end the ******* who will leave us for dead while they happily sit in bed waiting for their master Satan to come in faster, the worlds a disaster but it can be fixed if everyone pitches in to dethrone their "masters", mathematical factors plotting out disasters cause they're done on purpose like previous stories remastered, some will ridicule me but it won't matter when they realize the truth that's been hidden educationally generationally, you're serviceably useful to the machine aka the system, but the system needs you, you don't need to listen

My name is stolen like a Spaniard
Inquisition,
My heritage barely a patch of fog,
What is the truth of myself unwritten?
   " Your name is....You shall be called"
My father once said,
But I sign this name at the end of no poem,
Are you sure this is my name?
Have you navigated the flows
Of lava in my bloodstreams,
My geographical mind that beckons
A deep bitter valley,
Dark beautiful mountains that have
Reclaimed by nature what my people
Claimed her?
Can you see my subterranean pyramids,
My great moist jungles,
Gutting out advanced mathematical models,
Bleeding precise positions of stars,
I can cry the Winter Solstice,
Oh my proud heart pounds
Through my chest with dreams of then,
When the Coyote was sacred and the
Nature of all things was balanced
Even in the darkest days.
Am I Gonzales from the old Spaniard name?
Does my brown skin and hairless
Arms not cry for the Aztec of my ancient
Fathers?
The root of my root,
The flesh of my flesh,
The veiny branches of a family tree
Where wild flowers grow in
The words of the Aztec bark,
Bleeding its sap through me,
Is this Spaniard to you?
(I know the difference)

Let me ask my blood:
Do you not see the fire in my eyes?
Don't you see the fire raining tears
Of embers onto paper,
Every word a burnt offering?
Maybe one does not know of my
Great grandfather in the valley
Of Mixcoatl, there he lived as the last
Nocturne, his great scar along his back,
The last of a warrior
Where he died among the stars of his fathers,
The scar from a knife, a knife that
Stole his true name!
Has Olin and Ehecatl taken it
With a breath of wind?
I will take the Sun Stone with you Octavio!
Take me home.....

And I can see it!
The noble people forgotten
As time forgets all,
My voice of the Warrior grateful
And speaking like a shiny tip of
Spear piercing the night wolf!
I am no longer a riddle in the water,
But a pure flow of immenseness,
A profound respected beast,
I feel the purity of ancient things,
I dissolve into memory's ink,
My combatant blood boils,
The land flames of my fire,
The people of the Sun!
My ancestral blood with calloused feet,
My ancient jungles,
Tamers of beasts,
Oh the Aztec Dream,
Yes, I am what my blood says I am,
What's in a name?
The identity misidentified.

I can never save you and I am terrible with
golden-haired girls with penchants for
shiver-shiver-shudder-lightning,
right through their bloodstreams
and I am a creature of ink and adrenaline
and that is all my bloodstreams have in them
and I can never save you and I can
only say I love you
and how many love-love-love-yous
can you devour before you feel content?

quick to jump
quick to feel
it's all split-second
decisions on ****** positions
at 3 am.
practicing submission in the
mirror of an alleyway.
broken.
shattered premonitions.

c r a v e  m e

do you. do any of you.
feel me. in your bloodstreams.?
knocking the wind out of your precious and
dying lungs.
pumping your hearts.
crave me? do you?
deliciously uninterested.
shards in my throat.
interesting personality attraction.
follow me now.
to do lists. have done lists.
to get to when i'm sad and bored lists.
check check check

stone's throw and the water's current, clouds shifting in the valley of the sky above
screams could be heard near
no,
it was more of a giddy falsetto, shouts that sounded too drunk,
it was an all too familiar sound for james an all too familiar person

"look at my wings! im a fairy! im coming home to the beloved land! wait for me fairy sisters!"

he went to the clear to see if he was hallucinating he wasn't
it really was her;
sophia
nine months since they broke up; that tearful separation

for a minute he just stood there at the far end of the river watching his ex girl friend spread her arms and glide near the banks in the bridge chanting and giggling

god, did he miss her voice and her laugh

she was just like how he remembered her, her timeless free spirited soul still intact as if she took her childhood with her as she grew up, clenched tightly in her fists

the moonlight kissed her milky pale skin, bathing it in a dusty sort of blue.
she was all by herself and he could tell that something was off;
like she was only half there, like her soul vacated her vessel and she was talking to someone not there

she seemed disoriented and james wondered if she was getting bad again,

the worry kicking in as soon as he thought about all those nights,
those times they got high and drank too much and drugged themselves, injecting poison they craved into their veins, letting cigarette ashes fall to their feet, tiptoeing about as if by a marionette's force trailing along the synchronized beating of their hearts
his mind and being time travelling, to the motel room they stayed at that summer bursting with heated afternoons and passionate air, the sheets that smelled of their love making, the wooden floor they sat on as he strummed the strings of his beloved guitar, singing to his muse, the balcony where they laid in each other's arms, in awe of the world around, cicadas chirping
their adventures and misadventures where she pretended to be a superhero and had him as her sidekick the times they pretended to be spies on quest and missions-she introduced and dragged him into her colorful magical realm.
she had dog eared, coffee stained colored books piled in the trunk of her car with words and sentences blacked out, renewed into greater poetry. he could've put a bookmark between pages of one of those books, and they could've dived right into it, staying in a chasm of a sappy, lovesick, sensual poem. they could've gone on a quest of slaying monsters and stopping time for eternity. he couldve stopped them from drowning

they were looking for heaven not knowing that heaven is not a places on earth

all he did was pull down the anchor and let her sink as he kept afloat. sure their connection was real and pure. they comfortably had both of their minds and spirits bare around each other they were two kites flying in a parallel motion but the wind dragged them down hurling them recklessly

they were rarely under substances, almost never under the influence of vices. it filled them up like birthday balloons and their love was the needle that caused them to pop. it had reached the point where they were trapped in a psychedelic haze holding on to each other to stay lucid

the drugs took their toll on them resulting to violence, abusive fights
he loved her so much that he built her a house of bricks and cement to protect her from the big bad wolf not knowing that ****** and ******* turned him into a wolf and he huffed and puffed til he blew her down blew her dead

he felt his heart hit the flat line as her heart stopped for seconds in the ambulance that night he felt everything warp into everything he's ever known everything he's ever had, ever los. he felt the drugs warp into her as if she was the side effect instead of the addiction. the drugs gave them the illusion of being alive while remaining two lifeless, misguided souls.

miraculously they were able to revive her back to life but comatosed with only monitors and tubes sustaining her "life".
that night he dreamt of being with her and holding her hand for the last time as they made a pact, the promise; that they would both get better, get help, get rehab, have blood in their bloodstreams again and have normal functioning lives. they parted with a promise and a someday; that someday they'd meet again when things were right and the stars have aligned maybe, maybe. they kissed and touched in one another's presence before they parted in different directions, for freedom for the better it was a dream within reality. he knew she dreamt it too, that they were stars weaved in the same dream.

he walked closer, to where she was, still seemingly trapped in a trance mindlessly but she alarmingly tethered too close to the water, flailing her arms inviting the wind to knock her down and be part of the river, be the tides the rocks skipped. he had to do something

" sophia!" he screamed, her name echoing past the trees and the trailer houses. it was enough or her to look at him with those eyes, the same eyes that said it all before. recognition fleeted for a second before it went blank but she stopped tethering and perched herself on the bridge

he gave her a lift and took her home to the dorm she was newly staying at for the semester (it was hard to get it out of her from her drunken slurs almost like he had to pull her back from space) and on his drive back with a cigarette perched on his lips he thought about the way he laid her down, passed out and how he stayed for a bit longer, letting his fingers linger across her hair spun from golden silk and the lopsided smile that hung in her face while she slept.

he wondered most of all if she really got better, if the dark was behind her and if she was truly beyond it. he really wanted to believe the pictures that lined the walls,pictures of her smiling, with her friends, her family months after the promise.

she did look better, her skin baring a hint of plumpness and had a healthy glow replacing the sagging hollow that lived in it all those months. after the episode he witnessed (she did reek of ***** and had bloodshot eyes and was shaking not to mention the trance she was in), he didn't know if she was only good at keeping up the "better" facade. but he had his fingers crossed

he was about to let himself out, an ache growling in his stomach as they were to be separated again but he guessed it was the closest they would ever be.

"tell james i love him. always"

his head swiveled back to her and she was still tucked asleep. he could've sworn she said it, he couldn't be hearing things-after being eight months clean of substance usage.

he felt the familiar burn of the cigarette, and he threw it out of the window leaving the remnants of the nicotine inside him. he hated himself for lighting one up and keeping a half pack all this time. this was his first successful relapse and it was all because of her. like a ship tied down to an anchor;he was still tied to her, invisible ropes weighing him back to her ghost



she would always be his downfall

On behalf all of us who make bad decisions,
and worse excuses for them
I’d like to say that I’m sorry

I heard about how hard you worked on that science fair project
and how the teacher didn’t believe you
Because a week ago, someone like me used the same excuse
to get out of turning an assignment in on time.

And I’d like to say I’m sorry, for all the exams you studied for days to get a C on
and all the ones we aced without trying.
I promise, it wasn’t our fault, we’re just lucky guessers
I guess we could be little Irish
Like four leaf clovers are running though our bloodstreams.

On behalf of all of us who cried wolf,
because we fell asleep
and lost track of a few sheep.
I’d like to say that I’m sorry
that the boss didn’t accept the puncture wounds as proof
because we went too far one too many times for anyone to be trusted anymore.

For always taking the easy way out.
For every little white lie we told, that snowballed into an avalanche
and took you with it as it raced downhill.

On behalf of all of us whose dog did not, in fact, eat our homework
to you, the kid with a genuine excuse.
I would have liked to say I’m sorry.
I even had this whole apology written out
-It was cool, and rather poetic, if you ask me-

But there was this freak accident this morning
involving traveling circus, a ******* and a ham sandwich
-Trust me, you don’t want to know the details-

Okay, you got me
I guess some old habits die hard.

Last Friday night
across a summer’s night
the moonlit afire of cosmic presence
endured a promise of good peace.
As I entered my home, 9.13PM
I received a text from my dad
informing me that he’s been
involved in a car accident.
My flesh was worn out
from the day’s activities,
and melancholy added pressure
to my bloodstreams due to
my dad’s unfortunate event.
I could feel uncertainty
filling my unconscious mind,
drowning in sadness ‘cause
for the past six years
its been a normality for him;
facing insurance policies, getting medical treatment, a few calls
from family and friends ...
and he’s okay.
I threw a heavy stone
in my heart
and it broke me,
tears kissed my face
and I cleansed my soul with them.
Few minutes later he texted:
“in 20 min. time I’ll be home,”
and I wondered if this will
happen for the sixth time,
if he’ll survive another tragedy.
But whispers of hope said,
“you’re blessed, he’s blessed. be grateful. all is well.”
And I was okay.

my heart is fragile
my smile is broken
my soul is tortued
my eyes have turned blind
my fingers got burned cause of cupid

my wounds are open
my throat is dogged up
the pain is flowing
my insides are burning
(let’s just keep going)

my mind is fidgeted
my thoughts are caged
my bloodstreams are bursting
introspective is weakened
unanchored sailing takes place.

A quasi fog hole is born
An urge to be somewhere
Anywhere but these islands of bloodstreams
Far maybe in Thailand

What awaits next is a scaber of thresholds
It's an unknown world if you fall and land here
Shimmering camels going about their own biz
Wearing demon suits with demon ties
Auxiliaries conversing in Bonomos
Common hats all practicing, choreographing all catacombs thundering novels that are occurring as they scream, pictures willowing one by one, second by second all occurring simultaneously
...and say again
Awaiting ...
Not occurring at all...
Never had occurred at all

I stand at the doorway to the heart.
The key my deep breath.
Once inside energies tickle
causing a smile to rise on face.
causing sensations warm to enter bloodstreams.

I stand, ready to take off in dance
with my fellow neighbor.
Ready to reconnect to sister, brothers, and animals.

Mother Natures wind blows caressing me.
Birds tickle ears to align with my own song.

And as I move out, I know I am blessed and a blessing.
I arrived home. I am home.

Star BG © 2017

Now you know that I’m just a borderline
I’ll kick you out when my bloodstreams flow
Even if a firm hand on mine could stem it,
I let you in only to tickle the sinew and marrow
But I love you, true, you’re my only glass case
Needing you to borrow all my pain,
I pinned your wings and made you taste
The bile of my noncommittal pendulum again, again.
Between the tumult of self hatred and desire’s embrace
That dark dysphoria you found in seeing me
Enflamed loss when I left the mire of us
Without a battle calm instilled at the seams
Allowing our hearts in the rolls of our sleeves
We are dangerous.

Her words are boa constrictors causing detrimental suffering and sometimes even death,
with her victims crying themselves to sleep every night, hyperventilating with every breath.
Her raining punches feeling like a thousand needles piercing their flesh time and time again,
her victims wonder why they get up each morning just to suffer the same pain.
Her poisonous taunts run through their bloodstreams and haunt their minds;
and lead some to scar their bodies and others to perish entirely leaving their family behind.

One, two, three, four, come and get me!
You betcha, I will.

She stared at her greenish, blue veins jolting through her pale porcelain wrists-
like ancient twisted tree roots;
growing,
growing from her fingertips down to her toes.
Reaching towards the heavens
and stretching down towards hell.

Or perhaps her veins were a lighting bolt electrifying her skin;
striking her wrists,
pulsing through her upper arms.

Five, six, seven, eight

She was one with the blood.
Flowing through her bloodstreams,
the universe inside of her.

nine, ten, eleven, twelve...

Shards of glass, like millions of angels coming to save her.
She picked one up.
Held it to her skin.
She crawled into the bathtub.
Watched the water turn red.

Gotcha!
Come inside girls, it's time for lunch!*

She finally understood
who she was again.

Nineteen.
Clueless and unprepared, I am diving headfirst
Into a world for non-nineteen-year-olds,
A system so precise and so imprecise that I cannot win
A universe so unpredictable that I was better off eighteen.
But now it’s time to reach out to destiny,
Blow out twenty candles (one for good luck)
And live life like everyone is watching.
Ideas and goals have been ingrained into my mind
Whether I like them or not does not matter,
As they’ve made homes in my skin but don’t pay the rent
And I cannot kick them out because we are symbioses
******* the poisonous vitals from each other’s bloodstreams.
Suddenly, it isn’t so insane to think that my success
Is not successful enough and that my wedding gown
Could be my clothes on someone’s floor late at night
And the future fades into never, not as a beautiful ripple
But as a vicious surge, and I realize that
Once upon a time is once upon a dream and
My dreams are nightmares and I scream
Through the night and I’m modestly nineteen
So no one else is responsible to wake me up.

My nightmares are your dreams, my happiness,
your screams
It's all to me, as it seems, bloodstreams and lightning beams.
A river of red rubies tears its way through my veins,
Did you really think,we'll ever be the same?
On and on we go,playing the same game,
tearing ourselves apart into shreds of pain
How could such beautiful eyes be so shattered,
When my torn up soul,never even mattered
When it was ripped to pieces on the ground, splattered
...and oh my you say, you feel flattered?
Cut me down, watch me bleed
Tell me now, was this everything you need?
Let me fall,take the lead
Drain me out,start to feed
Just to fill your loathing greed.
My misery wasn't enough,to fill a gaping hole?
Take my heart and bury it in your ******* soul.
Take it or leave it, it's burned inside out,
trust me dear..all you have is drought
So go ahead and break it and lose it all
Lose the last thing,
-your self control.
Don't be so harsh on my sanity,
you once used to worship my vanity.
Take a look inside, just don't touch me.
Cause a kiss from your lips would make me a banshee.
My screams will echo through the earth,
To let them know that my dead body has lost its worth
To let them see me rot in hell
To let them know what they can't compel
To curse them all under my spell
Those whispers on earth, they're just my rebirth.

Reckon I'm Reckless
A wreck when I'm reckless
Tear open my chest
They'll call it love
But love feels like shards of glass
Pierced my heart and vocal chords  
Now, I found the perfect place
Necks can bear a heavy necklace

Headstrong
What's right, what's wrong
Call on the broken mirror
Can't see eye to eye
Overwhelmed by lies, tick the time

And spit the words out, vainly cursed
Pathetic bloodstreams, veins rehearse
Trickle down the back of my mind
Slipping away and the moon is bright

Watched a face turned blue
Confused about "how are you"
And death peered through a window
Fresh bodies, new blood, young girl

Headstrong
What's right what's wrong
Call on the broken mirror
Can't see eye to eye
Overwhelmed by lies, tick the time

The lost, unspoken, ruined regrets
Twisted tongues, burnt cigarettes
Filled to the brim I threw myself into the ocean
Washed up on shore, unsure before
But the salt seeped into my wrists
Sea level rise, afloat miserable bliss

Headstrong
What's right what's wrong
Call on the broken mirror
Can't see eye to eye
Overwhelmed by lies, tick the time

Can't see eye to eye
Overwhelmed by lies, tick the time

Sparkling fauna emerald green, organic lifeblood bleeds.

Molten blasting magma screams, brimstone preacher speaks.

Freezing water frigid creeps, Poseidon's clarion shrieks.

Blackness, ******, human greed; Gaea's suffering.



Corrupted souls, riddled with filth. Void of empathy and guilt.

Crossed with fate, blind with hate. Tear the fibers, desecrate.

Unholy thoughts to Hell dedicate, quickened pulse, frightened rate.

Can't run away, horrid dreams mutate. Steel fangs in neck with death's weight.



Child of stars and moon, watercolor streak crystalline.

Metal mind fragment, bristling tesla machine. Lightning-blue bloodstreams.

Twisted man's being, child of nothing. Made hellish and free.

Stitched visage shows war-torn beast, ghastly and crazed, shivering bleak freak.



Corpulent avarice, altered being, raised to moonlight, stricken, striking.

Drained by bloodletting, desiccated. Once live and free but now ill-fated.

Skin like armor, baneful valor. Built to survive and smother the cowards.

Towering servant to the unholy knave. Servant to the call of the endless grave.

That first time we took a drink,
let the cool fecund tides rampage over our tongues,
down our throats and take up residence in the empty pits of our stomachs.
We rejoiced.
We danced.
We consumed every and all in our path, relentless,
like the silence that used to adorn our small corner of the world.
They purse cracked lips to whistle at the ******* of the women that walk past,
and clench fists as muscle bound males raise their hackles to ward them off.
We want to fight.
We want to beat the world into submission,
to restore that silence that we crave but have learned to despise.
Neon lights blind our eyes as we sway in tandem to the pulsing bass.
We are one,
We are animals.
Hurricanes tearing through our landscapes
Uncaring in the face of disaster we laugh manically,
Tilting our faces back as we peel off our skin,
Unzipping raincoats that don’t block out the sun.
Holding our arms together in a twin bed
Blocking out the ghosts of our past,
listening to the fish tank whir
remember the first time we drank,
leaning timber against the faded wall,
talking to mr. light even though he refused to answer,
our bodies melded under fairy lights,
I hold your lips on the tips of my fingers and
Your heart in the palm of my hands
And I cradle that small bird, breathing warm air
Onto its feathers to help it grow.
Tides pour through our bloodstreams,
Pounding through our systems in overdrive,
Weak hearts thrashing in their cages.
What are we made of?
Roots and veins and fragile paper skin
Waiting to be torn by the hands of unworthy suitors?
We am made of hot hard ***, and the need for more.
Something else. We are animals.  
The bars of our cages dissolve in the acid breath of our highs
We sing from the rays of the sun,
Belting out operatic tones of our lives as if someone
On the other side of the telephone is actually listening.
Instead we day drink
And night drink
And huddle in cloth cocoons waiting to transform into our saviors.
Remember that first night we drank,
Enraptured under magnetic ceilings,
Dancing together under the influence
Of a potentially better world.
Spinning star struck next to constellations
Waiting until the room stops swallowing us whole
So we can close our eyes until the morning,
Smile drunkenly high on love,
And maybe for once, we will sleep.

“ All’s well that ends” is the mantra that lies on my heart and the tip of my lips as I ride this evening to a close. A bit of a redux from the normal passages of human response, but poignant none-the-less.
For the phrase “All’s well that ends WELL” is a false statement, built on romanticism. It has very little place in the real world of life and Death and love and loss. In truth, “All’s well that ends” is less the accepted usage yet more the proper. To everything there is a season, albeit sad and lonely and quite often, “wrong,” yet always is the end a new beginning.
“All’s well that ends.”
Why do we, as humans, view the end of a statement as the final resting place of a thought? Why do we so fanatically view the end as such a gravestone for our hopes and dreams and ideas?
Why can we not leave that sentence exactly as it lies? Because we, simply, feel like we are due more.
More of an answer, maybe? More of a truth? More of a fairytale, based on those told to us as children…
“The world will make sense one day, my young one. For all is well, once it ends well.”
Yet, how often does anything truly end “well?” How many times can we count on a fairytale? Ever? Never?
More often than not, sadly, it is the latter. Because fairytales rarely exist in this world of realism and algorithms. They cease to matter once the antidepressants have dissolved and made their way into our bloodstreams, cascading forth their eternal apathy.
Yet, the truth is the truth, no matter how you may choose to slice it. The end of something is always the beginning of something else.
Here at the cusp of this page, the edge of this precipice, lies not the finite line between what is and what could be. Here, on this fault, lies the difference between making a new decision and dying, drowning in the arms, in the confines, of decisions yet to be made. Here, on this ledge, I chose the open ended over the finite. Here, I chose “All’s well that ends,” for the next step is inevitably “All’s well that begins,” regardless of how it may have ended.

I woke up on the floor
From a party the night before  
Feeling like a train wreck, looking like a mess
Trying to piece together last night’s events
But my memory’s **** & my fishnet tee is missing
So I roll up a cig, grab my coat and leave
I’m losing count on how many times I do this routine

Walking down the street
Going through the texts I sent when you were asleep
Telling you what drugs I’ve been on
What I genuinely think, I know I’m a nihilist
But I know I can also change in your company
It’s funny how the heart speaks
When ******* & MDMA is in the  bloodstreams

Finally, I’m home
My mental state is melting like a Dali painting
So I crawl into bed for a good rest
Letting my body dissociate at the sight of 2PM
Some people say this is a waste of a day
But I didn’t think about that yesterday
Now I scream “**** MY LIFE” loudly from the inside

My tongue is scoured
with acid from venomous words
I spit at you.

But it appears,
my aim is poor,
and the majority of
the venom
sinks back into my flesh.

They weave
into my bloodstreams
in the form of guilt,
guilt,
guilt,
until you become
the only thing
clouding my mind.

I am sick
of feeling responsible
for everything
I didn't do--
ignoring the things
I did.

I am imperfect
but so is love.

an evening,
a morning,
a coughing grandfather sighing
with all the weariness of a dimming afternoon.
raining,
windy,
the old flower-tree of grandmothers tap-tap-tapping
against the window.
late spring roses dropping dew and dropping petals
lodging their greenish stem-thorns in boiling bloodstreams
hooking their way into the red-thick muscles of hearts
biting paler lips and weaker tongues,
signing songs of dusk and
coughing,
coughing in the afternoon
in their shallow slumbers of  evenings.
call on me weakly,
carry me not into the evening of love,
dimming lamps and fleeting, snoring breaths
call on holy mothers with no more silence
than the tap-tap-tapping
of those flowered grandmother trees.
a morning,
an evening,
parallels of forced breaths and sighing leaf-whispers,
the childish way of half-falling off beds,
shallow, deep, ragged, grumbling inhalations
of neveragain places,
dreams of highlands and weepings of meadows
and woodsmoke in summers.
weep not for life, weep not for death,
weep not for the salty tears in your mouth
weep silent, weep quiet, weep beautiful and stoic,
weep as pretty
as those flowered window-tapping trees in wind and rain,
bite your pale rose-lips like those greenish stem-thorns.
and in the morning,
and in the evening,
sleep deep, sleep deep, sleep deep
but do not weep.

Visiting orange cat
belongs to Shirley
across the street
now without John
her porchlight
a reminder
of another aspect
of life
a glow within
each of us
residue from flowing
bloodstreams of
light.

wrapped up on green fields
and blue skies, cotton couldn't
keep us warm through the
wintertime, laughter kept us
active, barefoot on hard tracks,
our lives were consumed by
three-minute-rhymes,
our hearts all melted for
the same person, her name
was carolyn, on the brink of
adulthood, we laugh until we
are drowning in tears just
thinking about those times,
blonde days, puppy love,
wintertime sunshine,
the closest of friends,
the lack of similar
bloodstreams and
the difference in
our skin tones
will not change the
      brotherhood
   that will last
for the rest
of our
lives


- t.m

wake up, broken child
arise and shake off your fears
be a pretender of forever love
and abide within your broken dreams
a shattered canvas, an undone fragment
you have supposedly become
a long lost memory
of childhood happy, mental steady
but the present has made you
teenage sappy, conscious achy
pursuit of happiness dimmed
the light of unborn victory,
unborn victory that lead to a
broken heart with weak bloodstreams
you felt no reason to live
no reason to dodge the bullets;
you felt the need to know
the purpose to how to grow
the fully-fledged freedom to flow
in a soul’s spirit to glow,
in a dark and mystical night
to treasure your incomplete purpose
in the lively bed you lie in.

... quiet eyes meet in desire evolving:
a Future swelling above fragile lives.
            wires that pierce the tissue
                        twist and shatter,
      penetrate muddy bloodstreams,
                clarify joy, fear, anxiety –
   a longing that pierces the veil
                     and illuminates                  
         death just as surely
                      as hope.