When we found each other,
We were a mess, hair was muffled,
Eyes were swollen and heart was broken.

We were like medicine,
Or I'd say we're the doctors
And at the same time we were the hospital.

Our hearts were our patient,
I put a little bit of iodine love in you
But I guess yours healed first,
Leaving me alone in this hospital
Without any medication
And so much expectations.

I didn't have the money
To pay the bill
So I gave up my surgery,
Letting my patient die alone,
Slowly and lonely.

Did you came to visit?
Did you came to pray?
Did you came to wish a 'get well soon'?
Did you bring her too?
Well if you're happy then I'll be happy for you.
Thank you my medicine,
My doctor,
My hospital,
For everything we've been through,
Make her happy and treat her patient
Carefully with love for serenity
And promise me you'll love her
Until the day you die,
And always say 'I love you' everytime.

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Of America Merrill Edge Tyson
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Keep it Real Keep it Tyson Is This Sequence
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Correct? Luminosity Zenni Slide
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Belts American Red Cross Let Palmolive
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Keep it Real Keep it Tyson Is This Sequence
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Correct? Luminosity Zenni Slide
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Belts American Red Cross Let Palmolive
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Perhaps, We have a worldview, that has turned a bit myopic.
Perhaps, We need a checkup from a doctor for Our optics,
Perhaps, We need for them to write Us out a new prescription, then
Perhaps, We'd see the truth in life that's written in inscription,

Perhaps, the Earth is weeping somberly, but We don't care to listen,
Perhaps, it warns us of Our doom when global profits are our mission
Perhaps, the World is run by men, whose only drive is for themselves
Perhaps, the few will **** the many, just for monetary wealth,

Perhaps, We're all too blind to understand the implications,
Perhaps, a future fraught with poverty and war is what We're facing
Perhaps, a different train of thought, is faintly running by adjacent,
Perhaps, it's one that wrests its life from the stagnation of complacence

Perhaps, We're living forms of life that have been cast inside a mold
Perhaps, estrangement from each other causes Our Hearts to grow cold
Perhaps, all concentrated power's an illusion, We behold,
Perhaps, We all could take it back, if We'd stop doing what We're told

Perhaps, Our Being is unique, and isn't something predefined,
Perhaps, Our priorities in life should they themselves be redefined,
Perhaps, Our voices are of import, and should not be undermined,
Perhaps, We all should organize, and build a world of new design

Perhaps, it is the Media that keeps Us all divided,
Perhaps, We should act neighborly and strive to be united,
Perhaps, in living as a People, We would find Ourselves delighted, and
Perhaps, We'd change the status quo, if We would only try to fight it.

It's just a little checkup
To make sure my blood's still red
Not black
Or even gone altogether

It's just a little checkup
To make sure I'm more alive
On the outside
Than on the inside

Indeed
It was a breakup,
‘Cuz I was only for “necking her up”,
‘Cuz I was “dead from neck up”,

Loving her was my greatest blunder,
‘Cuz she played a ***** heart plunder,
Now when I see her
Soft heartbeats become loud thunder,

Hey peeps,
She left me
For other cove,
She theft me
In name of love,
Then
I kept her
In my mind’s blocklist,
Why heft her
Meaningless memories,

Easy say
Hard in action
But I needed a “whole soul checkup”,
Indeed
It was a breakup…..

Chronically
Ironically
It seems to be
All fallacies
Of things to be
That I'll never get the chance to see.

Jive and jeer
Laugh and sneer
A cough, a wheeze
Laughing at me
And all my pleas
I know in truth I'll never be free

But to clarify, don't let vague by, description of the fallen
Every molecule I'm made of has an infection, a problem.

Is it in my brain, I wonder?
Because even I'm afraid to check.
You've seen my anger, my fury
And my graphic imaginings of death.
And the jealousy that festers
And the perversions that I flaunt
And the lengths I would go
Simply to get what I want.

I've spoken of Misophonia
(God, I hate my ears)
I've explained how every sound
Causes abject anger or fear.
I've talked of how my brain
Just doesn't understand
A single 'trigger' noise and
I've either screamed or ran.

I've discussed my depression
I've described why and how I cut
I explained that my Heart wants blood
Though my Brain screams 'Enough'
I've mentioned my memory lapses
That are no longer quite selective
How the line of my memories aren't
Sequential; aren't consecutive.

I've written and erased just how lonely I am
I've written of tears through tears
I've written of hurt and of love
And even hope, or maybe fear.
I've written my family whom I hate to love
I've written my desire to be owned and kept
I've written my straying from beliefs and religion
I've written ****-themes of what has and hasn't happened yet

I've written my thoughts: why was my life like this?
I've written my thoughts: can I be someone else?
I've written my thoughts: can you change my colour?
I've written my thoughts: why wasn't I born male?
I've typed my heart: someone somewhere is gonna love you.
I've typed my soul: no one needs to see it.
I've typed my mind: you're useless, ugly, crass
I've typed the facts: I'm a *******.

And that's only a fraction of my brain.
Only a portion of what hurts.
That's only a taste of what makes me insane.
A glimpse of a wasteland of dust and dirt.
We'll go no farther there, not today
We've much more to explore.
It's not safe in my brain at all
But, perhaps later, we'll see more.

Now the problem could lie on my skin.
That's riddled with scars and life.
My skin that tells a story
Of pain, of hate, of strife.
My skin, god I always hated it
The color, the scarring, the texture
There's not a **** thing about it
That doesn't make me feel lesser.

My skin, you don't understand
My skin makes me, me.
My skin, you don't comprehend!
Color is all you see.
I was raised to be wary
Of everything, alive or dead
But skin was the selling point
I was the monster under my bed.

My skin explains stories
I never thought to tell
My skin holds trauma
In every atom, every cell
My skin is calloused
From scars and hurt and work
Like an ever-present melody
It's driving me berserk.

But the problem may be in my organs
Perhaps inside my lungs.
I remember at thirteen I felt trauma
And almost picked up and fired a gun.
But instead I chose a lighter and
A stick filled with cancer
Instead I ****** up my voice
Just so I wouldn't remember.

Maybe it's in my heart
With its irregular beating
And the constant stress
Chilling and overheating.
The unending adrenaline
The paranoia never stops
The suicide attempts
I'm sure my heart's about to pop.

And yet I may never know
There's too many issues
Every molecule I own
Needs to be made anew.
This was a checkup
And a shoddy one at best
But should I ever go in-depth
I'll write it all, I'll write the rest.

We forgot to make love last night,
yet again like many other nights
we remained distant islands separated by
Bermuda's of bed sheet and air.
The body wasn't very happy
Those thousands of red cells inside you
divided and redivided in anger
Ached and oozed and broke free
from your restless

When I woke up this morning,
I found you lying in a pool of blood.
You decided to go to work
After all it was a Friday and
the long weekend was a week away.

You take too many iron supplements
I fear, one day your body will be so full of folic acid
that it will cry.

We have the Smokies lined up for October
and the Cayman Islands in Christmas
Thinking of planned vacations makes me go to work
every day
Even though I ****
so bad
that I'd rather open a book store
and read all day
and sell a book or two.

My life is still all about you
After all these years
I still couldn't kiss that woman who
asked me on a coffee date at 10 pm by the lake.
or the one who found me cute on our album by the dressing table
You would say "Go ahead , we are not married yet".
I would laugh when I am alone,
thinking of the all the things you say
these days.

You say all the good things in life needs planning
marriage, kids,
buying house on mortgage
convertible sport coupes
vacations in South Pacific.
I find it ironic that I met you on a book store
when I cancelled a TGIF party and had this sudden urge
to buy Alice Munro's short stories.

We were sweet, back then.
Now you lie,
about being anemic on your weekly routine checkup
hide,
your biopsy report soon afterwards;
lie again,
on the reason of your sudden cancellation of the planned vacations for the year end
saying it's work.

Then you disappear, terrify me
Only to come back strands of hair gone from your head
still say nothing,
yet finally disappear saying nothing before I could buy us
the last vacation together.
I regret how much we could have done
together
if we made love more often
my body healing yours
resting, soothing,
purging all the enemies.

On the day when we supposed to be married
I visit the Caymans
laughing alone in a crowded beach
thinking about all the things you used to say these days
having Alice Munro's short stories for company.

Facebook conspires,
Digital narcissism  .  .  .
  .  .  .  Mobile devices.

Hip bones protruding like jagged rocks at the bottom of a cliff.
Collarbones like the bones of a turkey carcass after thanksgiving dinner.
Ribs showing so much you could play them as you would a xylophone.
Wrists so thin they are likes apple cores.
"You should eat more" people have said.
What they didn't know is I ate like a starving animal that was given a years worth of food for the first time.
I stuff my face full of food hoping I will gain another pound.
Going to the doctors is just disappointment waiting to happen.
You go for a checkup and when they weigh you, you find out you weigh 106 pounds.
Last time you went you were a 105.
It's been 6 months if stuffing your face full of food for 1 pound.
Chocolate cakes, chips, and other foods that would usually make someone gain weight made me gain one pound.
I am now 120 pounds. It's been 1 and a half years.
You are proud.
You gained the weight.
Your hip bones like rocks at the bottom of a cliff when the tide is high,
Your collar bones like the thanksgiving turkey that isn't quite finished yet.
Your ribs are no longer an instrument.
Your wrists are the apple that only had a few bites taken.
You are happy.

Why does it happen to me?
Did the accident also give me a brain tumor?
The most common symptoms of brain tumors include headaches; numbness or tingling in the arms or legs; seizures, memory problems; mood and personality changes; balance and walking problems; nausea and vomiting; changes in speech, vision, or hearing.
I have all except seizures and nausea & vomiting.
I am already on Sodium Valproate and Valproic Acid controlled release tablets which are given to brain tumour patients as well.
My psychiatrist was so scared while asking my dad the last time we went for checkup, "Did he have seizures or vomiting?"

But I am not scared, I know that stuff can only get better for me. I have had enough of misfortune.

Start now knowing joy,
that’s an order,
overcome a deepening solitude.

Like a bee at a bugle
or me at the deli
on Third Avenue.

I said to Joe when do you think this weather will break?
He jokes, April.
That’s no joke. Weak creatures die and the strong barely survive.

Half a year goes by
another cancer checkup.
Cheer up. Any weather’s

better than no weather at all.
There’s always governance
even when there is no government.

My candidate drops out
after Iowa. Why do I always lose
at politics and poker?

Peace at last!
No lawnmowers, no leafblowers.
Big comfy couch.

Meditate on this: Do what has to be done.
Find your lover gazing at the moon
and take your garbage to the dump.

Your web site evaporates
and your possessions are thrown in the dumpster
except your trumpet which finds its way to a future trumpeter.

There’s a wasp in the house
He snuck right on in
But I’m all alone
Wearing nothing but skin
Buzzing and humming
He moves lightning fast
He’s angry I’m sure
No need to ask
He needs to be caught
Or if not, then swatted
I wish I had foresight
Enough to have plotted
An action and course
For exactly this thing
But it did not occur
To me this morning
Now I know you might say
What about me
But you see that just simply
Won’t, and can’t be
For I’m hunkered On down
In the closet all snug
There is no way in hell
I’ll go near that **** bug
So here I will stay
With clothes all rolled up
Wedged in the crack
So the wasp can’t checkup
I gather reserves
Of brave that I’ve stashed
And face this mean wasp
No longer abashed
I gave him a stern talking
Told him what’s up
then demanded he crawl
In to my tea cup
Walked back to the door
And hear a loud “hey kid”
Then slowly it dawned
That I am still naked
I held my head high
As my skin flushed
A wasp in a teacup
A lady in the buff
I released him unharmed
Still on my task
Then turned right around
And smacked my own ***
To all of the neighbors
Staring at me
I ended with the most
Proper curtsy

Packet of Time

T'is the custom of some,
To do their self-sums,
Periodically,
A self-review of
What is seen
When standing before the
Mirror that cannot lie.

Some like Xmas, while others
Count their turkey feathers
on January first.
Others numerical ***** on
The fifteenth of April,
As required by the IRS.

Others habit bound,
Do a spring cleaning,
Or an annualized medical checkup.

Then there are the enviable few,
Who never do
Such an exercise,
For being sure of one's rightness
Precludes the necessity of having their
**** probed, their status, already known.

As I lie in bed at four am,
Waking  after a four hour packet of rest,
Began to wonder, what is the proper period
That a person should time themselves out,
Take a look back, do a "get back Jack,"
To find where they not once belonged,
But where they should set the course heading.

Here is where
This poem gets
Deadly
Serious.

One minute please!

One on, one off.
Did you just spend the minute prior,
Setting your brain on fire,
Scrub away the false pretenses,
Or waste 60 of them on mindless telly?

Day dream, plan and scheme,
Outline the plan, man,
Or curse your fate
The one you, Nate,
Created.

Seems quite expensive,
Spending half a life
Thinking how to
Spend the other half.

But a **** worthwhile,
Notion,
likely to reduce
Self- promotion.

For after but a few such minutes,
You will likely conclude,
Better to think of others,
Than yourself.

Then you truly begin,
The voyage human.

Just a checkup and i’m feeling 30. i’m 30 minutes early and in a hospital that’s an eternity. So my restless eyes wander and my feet move till i step into the reflection of adulthood and youth. Separated by thin glass i stare with blood shot eyes at all the beautiful newborn babies!! “That was me, i was them, how could i have ever been that helpless?” In response to my question the lights flickered and there i was lying helplessly in the incubator! Mother earth looked at me through the glass, she more restless than i, bags under her eyes she said “that was me, i was them, could i have ever been that helpless?” Then darkness and i disappeared, mother earth was now **** naked helpless in the incubator. Through the glass God spoke with fire in His eyes“I Am”.

She cut her finger while slicing bread,
no one gasped, or winced
with her exclamation of "****"
aimed towards the bent, saw-toothed steel.
She bloodied a kleenex,
then strangled her fingertip
with a band-aid.
She didn't mind the sight of blood.
She'd grown used to it in childhood.
From scratching the welts
left by mosquitoes till they were crimson.
She remembered accompanying her little sister
to a routine checkup
and the nurse looked down at her scarred legs
and asked if there was anything wrong
with the big one.
It was the first time
she learned to feel shame
for her scars.
In fourth grade she had a crush
on the class clown.
She liked his black hair
and blue eyes
and he made her laugh.
He ignored her.
Later, she found out
he called her pimple-face behind her back
by then, she no longer cared
what he though, feelings had faded,
but the pain of being told
you were second to last
in the classes "Beautiful" rating
(second only to the freckled girl with tiny eyes).
She learned her crooked teeth were things to be ashamed of.
Braces helped, but four years of wires
and widening her tiny jaw
with medieval, key driven devices
that prevented normal speech,
were hardly an improvement.
She learned pain was beauty,
but being able to take pain well
was not beautiful.
Being able to run swiftly,
having monkey-bar calloused hands
and strong arms,
only made her unfeminine.
She did not sit placidly on the swing-set
admiring her fingernails,
screaming,
when a fly buzzed past her ear.
She rescued frost-winged bees from being crushed,
laying them gently in the grass.
She held back tears when the asphalt stripped her palms.
She wanted to be brave.
Respected for the strength she thought she had.
That did not come till ten years later.
He called her a water nymph,
jumping from rock to rock like a small child,
though childhood had long since gone.
Laughed as she caught salamanders.
She cut her toe while they were walking together.
It began to bleed.
She said nothing, thinking it would stop,
letting the blood fill her shoe.
He panicked a little, wanted to carry her.
She refused.
But he bandaged her foot, gently,
like a morbid Cinderella,
as she washed the blood out of her sandal.
He complimented her graceful run.
Things she'd wanted noticed
for ten years.
She didn't know when she would find
another
who saw her, as he did.

You taught me that everyone that wasn't a christian was going to hell.
You taught me that we were the prime example of a good christian family, even though I had bruises on my skin.
You taught me that girls should wear makeup and do their hair and wear pretty dresses, and are good for nothing except being a housewife,
you taught me that my talents should be used only enough to get money so I can live in a big house with kids and be a good wife.
You taught me that homosexuals should be strung up and gutted for being sick and diseased sinners.
You taught me that boys who don't dress like men are homosexual ***** nasty sinners.
You taught me that I wasn't good for anything
You told me that you wished you could raise me all over again, so maybe I wouldn't be such a disappointing sinner.
You told me I couldn't play with boy toys, because that's a sin,
You told me I could only wear girl colors.
You told me to only read books about good girls who do good things and not books on adventure and crime.
You told me I was ugly.
You told me I was fat.
You told me I could be somebody someday, but it wouldn't be so because I was ugly and fat and stupid and good for nothing, so I better stop dreaming.
You called me a liar when I said my father hit me.
Even when you pulled him off me as I breathed what would have been my last breath.
You didn't take me to the doctor when I laid in my room screaming in pain for an unknown reason,
You called me a ***** and a ****
and that my friends are disgusting.
You claimed I had no free will and that everything I did, was me just trying to be like all my nasty sinning homosexual friends.
You said all I did on the computer is watch ****. I was a kid.
You said my pains and sorrows and feelings and thoughts and ambitions were me just being dramatic.
You never called the police
or divorced him sooner,
you just got another job and left me alone with him all day.
You called me a liar no matter what I said.
You blamed me for your woes and your weight.
You prayed and begged and cried in front of me,
trying to understand where you went wrong and why I was such a sinner. I was a kid.
You didn't raise me.
When I twisted my ankle on a field trip, it was another parent who iced my ankle.
You didn't pick me up from the school play at 10pm,
I waited and waited- it was another parent who came back to check on me, and took me home.
When I woke up with ****** knuckles and ****** walls, you didn't care that I had been punching the walls in my sleep you didn't do anything to help.
I ran away from home three times and each it was my sister who came to get me, never you.
When I fell through a window and that piece of glass lay pointing at my heart, for I was too light to have my body push down through it, I wasn't relieved, I was disappointed. You didn't stitch me up, my brother is the one who cleaned my cuts and bandaged me up and down.
You didn't help me, it was my sister who taught me how to push our dresser in front of the door when he was on a drunken rampage with a baseball bat, so it would buy time for us to hop through the window and down the street.
It was my sister who held me when I fell of my bed and took the skin off my nose.
It was my brother who read me stories of a brilliant boy named Artemis Fowl who went on adventures.
It was my sister who screamed for him to stop when I played too loud and he smashed my head against the wall.
It was my sister who taught me how to cook and clean
and bought THE LABYRINTH so that I could fall in love with David Bowie and learn to be a girl who didn't need anyone to save her.  
It was my brother who lent me his clothes when he grew so I could get out of those nasty pink dresses with lace that covered every inch of me.
Every time I spoke you said I was a liar and that I should sit down and shut up.
You badgered me for being rude when I didn't speak in public or with family and when I do you laugh and shush me, letting the other people know that I like to exaggerate, I like attention.
and then you scream at me for being rude and that I should sit down and shut up sit down and shut up and that's what I did.

From birth, you said I shouldn't exist and that I was heartless and nothing and cold and dead inside. You blamed me for the world and you still do.

This all happened before I was 8 years old.

When you went to Italy last summer, you went without a word and left me with no food or money. It was another family that sheltered me. It was a man I've met only twice who has become my only father figure and texts me to make sure I'm okay and picks me up and feeds me and gives me a place to stay and helps me indulge in my interests and tries to heal me and treats me like his own daughter.

This is still all you do.
You expect flowers and a card
and chocolate
and the world at your feet
because you have given me the world
and raised me
and cared for me
and loved me.
But when I do the dishes for you as a favor, I can only think about whether the knife I'm cleaning will be plunged into your heart, or mine.

For the woman who tells me I look ugly on prom night, who calls my friends sinners and curses them  tells me I'm fat and nothing and punishes me for things I've never done and won't leave me alone in the doctor's office so that she can "Correct" everything I have to say so that I can't get anxiety or depression or anger medication or a thorough checkup on why my body hurts everyday. To the woman who cries and screams to this **** day that she doesn't understand why I'm a disgusting monster, how she doesn't understand how I turned into a freak. To the woman who openly despises every inch of me that tries so hard to be happy and love everyone and everything,
Happy mother's day.

We read a poem



Sometimes understanding,

       sometimes not.

If not, we think



It must be sick.

                        Something must be wrong with it.



So we send it to the doctors office.



                                                       For a checkup.



                        To be poked

                                                And prodded.



To make sure everything is right in its head.



                                                But our lack of understanding,

And ability to broaden our minds



Makes us in need



Of a doctor.





Perhaps a neurologist.

****






Sorry, that's just the easy way to grab someones attention nowadays. Are you getting enough sleep? How about water?

these hard words

are the only fruit my hard-rocked soiled-soul produces,
my alliterations secrete no beliefs, quench nothing,
the poems I don’t write are my most successful,
the songs that comforted, now find no-entry orifice

skin cold wet clammy sweating unsuitable for tilling,
my horizons natural, felled, underground swallowed,
replaced by the man-made barriers, guardrails of words
leaving body, utterances shoutout, exiting non-permissioned

lurch from one guilt-carrying, black leather-straps wrapped,
round my arm, to the ones strapped around my temple,
honorable acts owed, responsibilities fear foundering
unfulfilled lists, griefs, signs of cowardice, badges shameful

deep sighs, open groans, me mean asking questions of myself,
laughed off, city noises turned off, silences of colorless colden,
the sirens loudest inside reverb endlessly, still give nothing away,
a final exam, an all sided, annual checkup reveals nothing but


these hard words

7:48am 10/15/19

I've reached a door after twenty-three years that I apparently can't walk into unless alone, as foolish as I always am.. I decided I'd never let go of my loved ones and lost that last piece of me behind that door and stayed here. Lost, confused as ****, loved but not like I should be loved, communicating when I don't even believe in the word or the magic of that action, but at least with my loved ones.. Eh?


Oh well, if any of you people are reading this behind the door, did I miss it? was it wrong that I quit it? I know it was a mistake, I knew it while I was walking the opposite direction from it as well. I said all the stupid things I'm supposed to say but only when it "felt right" well, nothing feels right. But at least I'm with my loved ones, yeah?


I lay in bed in mornings and for hours at midnight, I walk the roads to everything alone my heart can't stop feeling this sort of unbearable feeling and I think it's trying to tell me something that I still can't figure out or most probably in complete denial about, I eat the food I'm supposed to eat, I hydrate, I walk as much as I can, I stopped listening to blues and only listened to what made my heart race, I've watched my cat give birth to the most beautiful six kittens ever existed, I sit with my mother until she's out of talks, I take long therapeutic baths and treat myself right.. from time to time.. but my heart is still feeling the same way, almost nothing but that feeling, and relates to nothing but that unbearable feeling.  So.. I decided I'd try and talk to my loved ones, my darlings, my whole life which is the reason I chose them over myself and it goes like this:
My sister, my guardian angel: "You should go have a full checkup."
My best friend: "Same"
My loved one: "..."
And I knock the door
Once
Twice
But I stand here alone
hours in the morning, hours at night
roaming all the roads
staring at every wall built
the sky, clouds and the sun
alone
but thinking about my loved ones

Sitting in the waiting room of a Children's Hospital
Orange plastic church
Of medicine
There's a beautiful woman with a head scarf and a baby
And you've disappeared behind a door
So many appointments
So many checkups
For me at least
I've only been in a hospital twice before -
When my sister was having her babies
I was only in the waiting room
And now she's getting divorced
Come out soon please

But I could do this again
I could do this as much as you needed
I'll be there fire every appointment
Every checkup
Even if some day -
It stops feeling like so many
Come out soon please

I hate that you're sick
Even when you're healthy
Surgery doesn't scare you -
But if it really does, it's okay
The baby is wearing a blue hat
She's sweet
Ours will be too
Please come out soon

Your dad and I are sitting on complete opposite sides of this couch
I don't know if either of us will ever be used to one another
I am still fond of him
I'll hug him at our wedding
And we'll give him grandchildren
I don't mind that he's grumpy
I just hope he likes me
But please come out soon

I was 18
Unfettered
Fresh faced, eager
World was mine
Life of party
Soul of clubbing
And so I drank wine

25
Treated badly
Blackened marriage
Drew the line
Parents shocked
And disappointed
And so I drank wine

32
Lost a baby
Twisted heart strings
No more chime
Shadows fell
Another heartbreak
And so I drank wine

39
Working hard
Breaking boundaries
Nows my time
To then discover
I'm just a number
And so I drank wine

42
Love of life came
New beginnings
Feeling fine
But the habits
Setting in now
And so I drank wine

51
What can change
Drinking daily
Not a crime
Till my doctor
At a checkup
Tells me straight
Down the line
One more drop
You'll be gone
Your glass empty
Before your time
And I wonder
Do I care?
And so I drank wine

My scars are quite visible today.
So is my main artery.
It scares me that I constantly wonder
What it would be like to
Push a blade far enough
To the point of no return.
Would they be able to save me?
Would I even let them do so?
Why would I want this?
I am not sure, to be honest.
I shouldn't do self-diagnosis but
I honestly believe I am quite crazy.
I believe I have social anxiety and
seasonal depression as well as
PTSD.

Maybe I should go get a checkup
Before I end up making my
****** dream come true.

Sacrificed for national healing
Head on a plate
Checkup from the neck-up
Mother, Mother,
They're washing my brain again
Implanting discs where wings should be
Put a gun in my right hand
Left me with a pill
Their quick and ***** ****
Cleans you out so slowly
What a wrong sensation
For their righteous slay
Gained a middle name
And no more summer rain
Will hit my roof again
Fell for their cruel nature
Sprung from lack of nurture
People never notice anything
And I'm caught in the rye
Live in the moment
Do what you please
One might destroy you
But a worse disease
Is strapping the harness
And losing the keys

Isn't it crazy how one decision can change everything forever?
Like having that extra test at the doctor.
Who knew an endoscopy could be the difference between life and death?
No one was expecting anything to happen.
Just routine checkup.
This would be everything but routine.

A tiny little cancerous polyp cost half an esophagus plus part of a stomach and spleen.
Years of recovery, sleepless nights.
Feeding tubes, coughing fits, at home nurses.
Building up strength just to walk into his own home for the first time in weeks.

That tiny cancer would've spread.
On this day, we could've been mourning instead of celebrating.
Cancer took a hell of a lot from us, but look what it gave us.
My dad turned 48 today.
Without surgery, I wouldn't get the privilege of spending this birthday and many more with my dad.

I brush up my teeth
(good little boy)
I brush em up gud
put on nice white & brites
flick wrist like handsome Asian dentist said
checkup all gud iron Bru bby
no cavity litter life
burn bridges
raze fields
scorch earth

Broken glass shards poke out from healthy hearts;
Reopening wounds you assumed closed up.
Okay, okay, it’s fine to fall apart.

Overthink and make your mind want to dart;
Keeping thoughts hidden in a tight lockup.
Mornings are brand new, refresh and restart.

Always to blame but never question art;
It takes time to find a way to buildup.
Okay, okay, it’s fine to fall apart.

Positivity, easy to kick start;
Negativity, easy to blow up.
Mornings are brand new, refresh and restart.

Back to a place you thought you had depart;
Yourself will come back to fill up your cup.
Okay, okay, it’s fine to fall apart.

May be lost, but you are not a spare part;
Darkness just crawls back for a quick checkup
Okay, okay, it’s fine to fall apart.
Mornings are brand new, refresh and restart.

The parameters of our lives are defined by the memories that echo through our heads at 2 am.

*I still love you but this just isn't working.
Have you ever considered medication for this?
It was instant. He didn't feel any pain.
You're just not cut out for this.
I think he's seeing someone else.
Time of death, 4:48.
Have you heard the news?
Are you sure you want to do that?
You're just not a good fit for us at this time.
We need to talk.
Just heard back from the doctor. Cancer. Stage 4.
Don't leave me.
50 years didn't seem so long, in retrospect.
Honey, listen...
It's just a routine checkup, nothing to worry about.
I never meant for this.
It's terminal.
I'm so sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, but...
Goodbye.
I have to go.
I'm leaving at the end of the month.
I'll miss you.
Goodbye.

To Science,

explain to me with your null hypothesis, your few words
why I laugh at the absurd, why some things are appealing and others not
try to make sense of hysteria, of massive blotches and stains where everything else seems to be clean
how does your hooks and bounds creep its way into clawing tag lines that represent a point of view? are you disgusted by the reputation of your name? or does it not even bother you?
are you made of stone in giant archways or do we need to test that a few more times before we get a confirmation?
are your studies, which work to stay away from human bias, bound by academic approval anyway, and does this constant checkup bother you?
how does it feel? to be constantly under the microscope?
your mistakes are revelations! the biggest ones reap the biggest rewards and profit, what an achievement
science, just a few more questions, I don't mean to take up too much of your time, I can see your requirements are multiplying, saving lives, saving love! saving freedom! Romantic in politics and grueling for students, you must have spectacles with hundreds of different lenses
science, are you the ultimate language, or the anti-language? I'm perplexed! and curious

signed,

Muskrat

I called my therapist to tell her I won't be coming in tomorrow because my dog just died and we grieve and then there's Christmas and my uncle has liver failure and then I find a lump in my breast near my 18th birthday my uncle finds  colon cancer I find out the lump is non-cancerous at the same time my aunt finds out hers is cancerous they removed the cancer spot in her breast my sister start having pain worse than she's ever experienced she's crying everyday the doctors don't know what's wrong with her she's going to doctor after doctor and eventually they say it's a kidney stone and they'll do a sonogram soon the procedure is over everything went well  my aunt also comes out of a checkup with more cancer my sister's perfectly good surgery it's her to excruciating days of pain and she has to have a stent put in my grandma gets extra sick her stent causes her even more pain but she passes the kidney stone and eventually distant comes out my uncle thinks he's going to die but my grandma does instead. everyone Grieves. I prepare for college My uncle still thinks he's dying I go to college orientation my uncle dies that's the story of the last 8 months I'll be at College in a few weeks so will my dead uncle's kid and our other cousin there will be hollow family dinners a shell of a family a shell of a home

Every time I put in more work I get less in return
Somehow I don't think this is a lesson I need to learn
Growing up has never felt like this but where do I begin?
I'm at a point where I ask myself why do I need friends if all beginnings have endings?
Could it be that these friends or myself are transcending  
Past the point of them spending
Anytime with me anymore, how do you know a friendship is ending
It feels more like a facebook friend request, I'm just pending..
I don't blame others for anything they don't want to do
It's just been a while since I've had a friend to talk to
When I reach out it feels like I'm asking for a handout
and everyone's got their hands full
Not one to call bull, but I need to pull
Myself from this hole in my heart that tends to make me miserable
Sometimes I ask myself why or what did I do to be like this
But the truth is I'm more than fine just confused by it
It being this constant narrative where it's me versus me
There seems to be no one around my immediate 360
I use all my strength each day to work the hardest, safest, and most efficient as I can be.
I'm not saying no one is but who is there to reciprocate that energy?
For those times I need to look up and someone needs to be my guide
For the times I want to run and go hide
I don't want to do this that or even the other
Sometimes I felt like I never had a Mother.
Mine loves me to death, she is the greatest and got me this far
Sometimes I ask why because even she doesn't have the answers I need and when times get this hard
I try not to dwell but I also dwell
Rare times where I trap my thoughts inside of this negativity cell
All boxed up filled with explosive emotions
On a good day enough to part seas and oceans
All I need is a checkup, not one from any doctor
Perhaps the ones that put it all on the table
that don't proclaim it's their final offer

You said her voice was like nails on a chalkboard you say mine is mommas lullabies and until the shrieking shattered glass cries you said you never knew I could sound like a familiar pain. I show you how its tacked to my shadow, say how a stay in the dark wont offer me escape. You said her cries echoed wolf to a choir and when the preaching drowned you out like school hall lectures you found yourself waiting for the bell to ring. You said her touch was like a doctor checkup and mine was family reunion hugs each time we met but I warned you I wanted to be the footprints in the sand before the tide takes me along cause I know she was searching your smile for a glipse of forever but I've been so hooked on your now that I'm hoping the future finds reason to wait. You said the shards of your heart she trailed you along have turned to lillypads in my presence and I tell you I know you must walk on water because I'd never believed in such holiness before, you say you only wish to make me feel full in no higher a power than the moment to make, I tell him to feed me freeverse compliments at no stakes cause the past cant catch us in its wake and we won't plot a plan for fate's fingers to break cause all I want is my now in a kiss I will take

CAR OF THE WEEK
MAN OF THE MOMENT
GIRL OF THE MONTH
HORSE OF THE YEAR
SALE OF THE CENTURY

Better start an inventory
Check what’s missing
Hear the gas hissing
Don’t even  think…..
about dissin
this lyric I’m spittin
out LAVA
TORNADO
TYPHOON
So you’ll see very soon
How strong your Mother really is!
The Question is not an answer in itself
There’s more to food than the price on the shelf
There’s more to life than hoarding wealth
There’s more to this than meets the eye
BUT WHY?
Bother with a question
Just live
On AUTO-SUGGESTION
WHY NOT?
Count, Weigh and Measure
All the things that you find
And make yourself BLIND
To the fact that this IS
“my FLESH”
that you’re BURNIN and LOOTIN
those are my LUNGS
that you’re CHOKIN with you’re SMOKIN
this is my BLOOD
that’s FLOWIN
                   FULLA NOXIOUS
SUBSTANCES
Whilst the Stock Market CASH
                                        BOOM
                                        CRASH
                                        BOOM
                                         CASH
CASH on DEMAND
GOLD from my TEETH
Con-sumer demand
OIL from  my belly below
FUTURES DEMAND
FINAL DEMAND
Sale of the Century
Everything must go
So you know
Who you are
When you wake up
Saying “wot’s up?”
You may have to cup
A hand to your ear
So you hear
Very clear
This lyrik I’m chatting
The voice I am passing
The word of
“the MOTHER OF ALL F**KERS….
GOOD EVENING SUCKERS…!”
Time to wake up
alarm bell ringing
Fluid in my lungs
make birds stop singing
whales stop swimming
iceberg melting
Spells change
Smells strange
When viewed up close
Where the dose
Is the strongest
But strangest
Of all
Is the fall
From grace

From the bottom of the list
         Of endangered species
             You’ve carved niches
                    Genocided species
                                 Built follies
                                 Burnt witches
                                 Dug ditches
                                 Built fences
Against yourselves
    Against your spouses
               Within your houses
                              of detention
                               Prevention
                            Is better than cure
        The water has to be pure
If we can be sure, what constitutes pure?
SO
Better do some catchup
Have a mental checkup
Don’t crackup
Or blowup
Or turnup LATE
For your own
Great Escape
Don’t leave it too late
Your Mother can’t wait
To have a big shake
And scratch off her fleas
And boil up the seas
A few thousand degrees
Then you’ll see
A sale of the century
Where everything goes
Up the nose
Of who do you suppose?
And whose eye will it sting
When fire I bring
From down below
My oceans
Ancient potions
Alchemical lotions
Make motions
Measured in Richter scales
Southern gales
Beached whales
Mothers wail
Another sale
Of a slave
To the rhythm of madness
To the rhythm divine
The divine intervention
The total dissection
Of my very womb
Crash
Boom crash
Boom
Closing down sale
While stocks last
Last few days
Everything must go
at the SALE OF THE CENTURY