If I had any super power I would want the power to control time.
To stop this moment
To relive the past
And to see the future.

If I had any super power I would want the power to control time.
To slow it down
To speed it up
And to play over.

If I had any super power I would want the power to control time.
To spend it wisely
To cherish it
And to learn from it.

If I had any super power I would want the power to control time.
Because it is the cruelest villain
It keeps moving regardless of our lives
It keeps ticking and tormenting
It claims to heal all wounds
It is the dictator of life.

I'd be stronger than super man
I'd be slicker than batman
I'd be bulkier than the hulk
I'd be faster than quicksilver
All because I'd have the power to control time.

What you don't know can't hurt you
... Shiiiittt
What you are unaware of can **** you
Take advantage of you
Oppress you
Neglect you
Stress you
You don't have to be Russian
Just be oblivious, and America will roulette you
...
Educate yourself
Young men
Young women
We the content of the masses
Who turn our backs on one another,
Only to bear the government's lashes
They been digging up gold
Only to treat us like plastic
But truth is everyone want to be a rapper
Not knowing they're signing up to be a wrapper
We see success as being on the other side of the camera
So we take note of celebrity's smiles and laughter
But never consider their jobs as actors
Actors and actresses putting on emphasis
Exaggerating
And we're just gravitating
So much in support
Can't realize the distortion
The propaganda they're forcing
That money makes us
Makes us familiar
Makes us happy
Makes us better
And schemingly they show us that we can acquire everything without being educated
So the dumber you present yourself; the bulkier
the pention
Listen!
Television
Is Tell-A-Vision
We're watching a show, a performance
A rehearsed message
A vow
A clown
A style
That have beeeeeeeennn around
...
We have to think logically
Have patience
And understand that there is one life
But many worlds
Find out which one is yours
Obtain knowledge before you explore
...
If you're not wise, you don't control your guide
But if you arm yourself with knowledge, awareness; lore
You open the doors

A pungent petrichor,
The kind to remind you of why you are here.
I was told it is a sign of rebirth.
Deeply lodged axe wounds burrow into the ground below,
And sedimentary formations climb into the open wounds.

You get told to lie deadly still if the bear is large,
And create thunderous uproar if you have a bulkier countenance.
Survival of the fittest, huh?
If lightning is nature taking *** shots at something smaller than it,
I fear to high heaven what it’s hiding from when the skies are clear and I’m relishing in a light of false protection.

I am a girl
Growing into a woman
Puberty and adolescence
constantly strike my mind and body
and there's nothing
I can do about it

My hips curve out wider
than before
My chest is shaping
into something bulkier
My face seems to get spots
that creme's don't even reduce
My hormones roller coaster
through my mind
and the oestrogen in my blood cells
makes my heart beat

It makes my heart beat
Affectionately,
for those who think
that I'm weak
For those who think
that I'm lame
For those who think
that I'm stupid
For those who think
that me bleeding
through my ****** is disgusting
yet they forcefully *** my body
without my consent and think
that it's fine

How can periods be as disgusting
as ****?!
Hiding my pad
in my underwear is more than enough
Now locking the fact that I was *****
in my mouth and keeping it
as a very dark secret
might just be too much to hold in
I don't have the strength
to shut my lips about
my crying soul,
the same way
that I don't have the strength
to keep hiding my femininity
God granted me such characteristics
and it'd only be disgraceful
to have an imperfect human
shame His works

The striding hips
that you get attracted to
are the very same ones
that bleed my purity
The very same opening
is the one that the men
of this world ****
How can you be disgusted
by my something so natural
and not by something so violent?

The feminine body
is one that you shame
and have the guts to diss
The feminine body
is the one that you ****
and have the audacity to try and silence
The feminine body
is the one that gave birth to you
and you still have
the guts to undermine it
as inferior
Who do you think you are?

Don't cash crop my temple
Don't **** my body
Don't harass my soul
Don't call me names
Don't judge my figure
AND DO NOT
believe that you're more dominant
than me
because we're both human
and we're both equal beings

I am just a girl
A very beautiful girl
with a smile that's as consoling
as night
A body as beautiful
as the sunset
Eyes as bright
as the moon and the stars
A scent as indulging
as a rose
Skin as smooth
as the fine threads of silk
And a voice
as blissful as the sound of a singing canary

I am a female
I am a girl
I am what you're not
So cherish me

Tactility is nearly lost, exploring this wall
this plain white wall, where hangers once pierced.
Like a mime, almost, but hands have little feeling,
each white indent a symbol of a time - hopeful smiles.
Contact, is hesitant adherence to regularity
below the threshold of social living.

Heaviness diversifies through the vein maze,
like a bulkier fluid with no vitality, purposeless;
Except to disseminate the morose sense to the brain
filling like in a tub - bathing in burning tar,
burning - only temporarily relieved by peeled skin
burying all self worth and nostalgia.

Existence becomes consumed by waves of neurotic death
the plague wins the inner feud against movement;
cry or yell - what will it serve when light is dimming.

Mother did suggest therapy, thought she would,
how can a mind degree diminish the weight of these boulders
placed on each nerve, rolling back and forth;
on my heart.

Options for relief? Pressures release
may come in a silvery sharp form,
Just one, surely just one would last long enough
to drift this being from the sorrow and shame.
Dribbles at first, then the flowing burgundy waterfall
trickling hands, onto the hardwood floor.

It takes me away
I drift with the ripples, streaming
a wry smile arises and finally: sleep.
Hospitals are all to familiar
that disinfectant odor
and that beep - that constant beep monitoring pulse and life.
Now all to aware of: burgundy falls.

Not a breath of air,
The world around me hangs motionless.
Waiting, waiting in anticipation.

Flora trying to remain worthy and proud,
Struggling and waiting in the still, heavy air.
Waiting in anticipation.

Fauna lying in the shadows,
Mustering the courage to look alive.
Waiting, waiting in anticipation.

Each day turns darker, the skies bulkier,
Waiting to burst, but impenetrable and dense.
They too ... waiting, waiting.

When?  Minutes pass bye,
Then hours and days.
When?  Waiting.

Each being holding on,
Holding their breath, striving for the feel of damp.
Ans still waiting.

Today?  No.  Tomorrow then?
No, how much longer can we hold on?
Today becomes tomorrow and tomorrow the day after.
Waiting, waiting in anticipation.

Well my dad has "a cancer"
And I suppose I want to write about it

I've just been to the chiropractor and
My beloved back ******* did something weird
Or I tensed as he heaved his mass
On top of my lower back to crack it
And now something in my right lower back dimple
Hurts

He collapsed on friday
Mom and I were home
It was a caustic flood of terror and dread
As we raced up the stairs
To find him
In the tub, unaware of himself

The screaming that ensued, the drag of the
Seizing, vomiting body to the floor
The wetness from his mouth
From his crotch where his body gave up its most basic functions as he left us for a while

Later he said he could still hear us
Screaming

I couldn't find my phone to call 911
I almost slipped on the stairs as I scrambled to the house phone

She was screaming "No! Estas vivo! Dios! Jesus! Estas vivo mi amor!"
She had her fingers in his mouth again
To keep him from choking on what was coming up
Even as his jaw tightened and his teeth closed down around her fingers
Later I saw blood on his lip where
His teeth had clenched down on her fingers
And caught the thin skin of his lip there
Blood and bile on the corner of his mouth

I remember one doctor we talked to
Said she shouldn't put her fingers in his mouth
I tried to pull them out
Her eyes bulged from behind her glasses
His eyes lolled, glossy and crossed
The foam across his lips, the limp body
The tightening mouth

I realized I needed to call 911
I ran for my phone but could not find it
I flew down the stairs, nearly slipping on my white socks
Screaming "No puedo encontrar mi telefono! Mi telefono! Perdón!"

I wondered if the extra seconds spent
Getting to the house phone
Would make or break his life span
As I shouted "perdón", I clocked the irrationality of that thought
Surprised that in this moment
I had the wherewithal to begin to blame myself
And to also dismiss the self-blame

I found the house phone and dialed

Sprinting back up the stairs

Her screams were even louder
I was screaming too,
Who knows if there were words in my screams

Nothing strikes horror into me
Like the sound of my mother's gritos
Terror, shrieking, demanding he live NOW
That he come back NOW
I don't properly know the words to describe how she sounded
I've never heard sounds like this
Screams like this

Ratcheting terror, acidic, piercing
It was not a wail,
Something in a wail has given up
This was a plea overflowing with fear and pain
While also a demand dressed in adoration and purest love
It was the sound of a child calling to her god
To save her one love
The sound of a wife demanding to her husband's
Earthly form that he STAY incarnate
The sound of a mother coaxing to the child still living in this man
Invoking each of his cells to come back to her
Calling him back from whatever ether
She could sense him disappearing to

He wasn't slipping away
He was seizing and foaming
There was no peace
It was maybe the fullest sound I've ever heard
I'm sure I'll hear it the rest of my life

Then I hear the 911 operator
Her tone condescending at the screaming
My screams were guttural
I have no idea what place those screams came from in me
I'm sure having my mother to mirror
Having her fullness to echo caused me to panic further
My body that once lived inside of hers
Heard that sound and nothing could be right
Everything was wrong
So I screamed and screamed,
Crying, guttural, shaking

The 911 operator said a few things and I heard her
I knew I could not speak kneeling there on the floor,
Everything in me, energy and body going out of myself
To these two who brought me to life

I leave the room and try to explain we need an ambulance
I tell her the address
Half way through the numbers
I hear my mother screaming again
And my numbers end in screams

I lean my forehead against the wall
I breathe slowly
And I explain the situation

Please send an ambulance
He's not conscious
Or is he?

I go back to the room
He is conscious
My mom is thanking god and holding his head
He is trying to brush her away
Feeling overwhelmed

He tells us he's going to stand up
My mother tells him no
He tries
I hold his arm and tell him no, you are not getting up
He says not to call an ambulance
My mother and I incredulous at his utter
Stupidity
The 911 operator tells us that he shouldn't move
He looks in my eyes and gives me his best death stare
I tell him no again
He stays on the floor and more vomiting begins

I grab a towel for him
It's not enough
My mother tells me to grab a plastic sort of square bucket thing from beneath a rocking chair nearby
I don't like that bucket though
And I don't think he would like it either
It's a weird color, a brand sticker has been ripped off of it, it looks cheap
So I go downstairs to grab a mug
The 911 operator has become more sympathetic to our plight
I suppose now that I am no longer screaming in her ear
The ambulance is on its way

I pick a large flowery mug with a funny base and a round middle
My mom says it's not big enough
I go downstairs again and grab a bowl this time
I take it up but it's not right either

My mom insists I get the square bucket thing from under the rocking chair
I do
It's right
I go back downstairs
The 911 operator says the ambulance is in the neighborhood now
I cry a bit as she soothes
I selfishly take this moment alone in the hallway by the front door
With the 911 operator on the line
Soothing tones and soft "yeah, I know, that's pretty scary stuff"'s
Wash over me and I cry again
Telling her this is the second time
She sees that on the file

Out of the porch window I see the ambulance, I let her know they are here
She wishes me a good day and hopes everything will be alright,
I hold her well wish in my heart as I open the front door for the paramedics
They go up the stairs and to the right

My parents and I are slight people, we are all under 5'6 and petite
These paramedics are so tall and large,
Equipment makes them even bulkier,
They fill the space so completely,

I don't want to go into the room,
I don't want to watch him dismiss my mother yet again
When yet again it was her who
Beseeched, demanded, begged, pleaded, created
With everything in her
For him

And he brushes her away with a swat
Of his large knuckled hand
He's an old white man
She's a youthful Latina woman

Wearing pajamas, red, swollen eyes,
Her accented voice filled with equal parts joy and suffering,
He's alive, but is he dying?
Frizzy hair in a low pony tail,

The paramedics follow his suit,
They want to dismiss her as well,
They downplay the seriousness,
He downplays,
They downplay,
And she sits beside him anyway,

I leave the room,
I pet my cat,

I go downstairs to text the family group chat from my moms phone,
I still can't find mine,

My brothers are coming into town today
For dads birthday dinner tomorrow night

I text them them a brief synopsis,
I hear the paramedics upstairs joking around,
My mom is helping my dad change into other pants
In the bedroom,

They carry him down the stairs in a chair,
They take him outside to put him in a stretcher,
I say "I love you", he waves
I go upstairs to check on mom
She will be in a frenzy trying to decide what to wear to the emergency room

I tell her to put on sneakers
And that the hoody she had on was just fine
She is beyond frazzled
She has to change her underwear and get new pants too

I stand just outside the bathroom door
She puts on the hoody
Then throws it to the bed with the dramatic flare of whatever panic attack she is stiffling
I demand she put on the hoody
Grab her purse and go downstairs now

He needs to go to the emergency room now
And she needs to go with them,

She obeys

She leaves the house

The ambulances leave the house

Mercifully, I am alone

I clean up the vomity things
I wash the dishes
I put clothes in the wash

At some point in the madness my mom told me
To turn off the grill
There was a brisket there
And it shouldn't burn
I go back to the meat
I can't turn the grill back on
I try the same useless technique for several minutes

Savoring the crisp air
I feel a bit selfish again
Wondering if there's something else vital I should doing
But I realize that no
There is nothing more to do

I let a few juicy self-pity thoughts soothe me
I'm just a child (I am 29)
I shouldn't be cleaning up my parents ***** soaked pants
Calling 911
Cleaning his bile from a hideous square bucket thing
Then I realize of course
I am 29
My dad is 80
This is what happens
Sometimes

Later at the hospital
They did some things they needed to do for him
He fainted from low blood sugar
He had been starving for a month or more
A growth in his esophagus
Not allowing food, water, even saliva to go down to his stomach
He had lost nearly 30 pounds in three months

He refused to go to the doctor earlier
In these three months,
Refused to be urgent when he spoke to the nurses or doctors
Refused to heed us that he needed to be seen immediately
But finally even his body could not resist his ego's need
To be okay,
And his body did what it needed to do,
To get the help it needed,
His body sent his mind away,
So that we might help his body,
Because he would not.

Now 6 days later I'm sitting in a Barnes and Noble writing this out
He's been released from the hospital,
He is home and eating again thanks to a stent in his esophagus
Next week there is a meeting with
The very nice oncologist
Today there was meant to be another procedure
But it got cancelled because of the stent
I am waiting on a call from the oncologist
Apparently she called us several times to let us know that the appointment was cancelled
But no one received any calls
I wonder what number she has been calling

We got up early this morning and went to the hospital
He didn't eat anything all morning and spent unnecessary energy walking around
He needs every pound he can get
But I breathe slowly
I can smell my charcoal and lavender deodorant
It's actually really soothing

Party in the USA is playing
I'm having a pistachio late
And right now, everything is okay

He is at home, eating some soup or something
Having a protein shake
He is stable and okay
It's all okay now

But it wasn't okay then
At all

And now it is okay
Which is hard to accept right now

I am exhausted.

He'd actually made it up into the tree stand
Two, maybe three years ago now
(Though finding the **** thing
Had been an adventure its ownself,
Finally seeing a bit of chair
Poking through a barricade of lounge chairs and potting soil)
Though not without more than a bit of trepidation and profanity,
(The climber stand heavier and bulkier than he remembered,
His hips and left knee as little less dexterous)
Eventually settling himself into the seat
To wait and ponder and try to balance the coffee intake
To stay in the interval between enough to warm
But not enough to have to **** like a **** racehorse.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed
When the buck came:  six points, and he reckoned
It would dress out close to two hundred pounds
And slowly, cautiously he sighted him
(It was at least a fair look--a shade inside ninety yards,
But some brush and branches keeping it
From being a clean **** shot)
Exhaling and stilling himself
But, inexplicably he would often tell himself later,
He did not fire, and perhaps it was because
He'd have to aim high due to the branches,
And he didn't want to risk simply winging him
Or, even worse, hitting him just solid enough
That he'd wander deeper into the woods to die
(Tracking him not something beyond his experience,
But an unwanted test of other faculties)
And maybe it was something else altogether,
But he'd pulled back and dropped the barrel.
Well son, he mused to himself
Looks like you drew a lucky ticket today.
He stayed in the tree for a little while longer
Until the coffee, long since past any pretense of warmth,
Gave out, and then he clambered down
(The process not any easier and that direction, he'd reckoned)
Hauling himself and acoutrements back to the truck,
The stand carefully placed back where he'd found it,
And as he headed back to the house
He hummed some indeterminate, vaguely hymnal tune
In testimony to the vagaries of time and venison jerky.