I want to keep my eyes clear so I can see the moon
I want to keep my eyes clear so my funeral won’t be an empty room
I want white around my pupils, meat between my bones and skin
And less green and purple patches from the bleeding within
I want clarity in my voice when my parents call
I want to be telling the truth behind the excuse that I didn’t mean to fall
I want the numbness to feel warmth, and my ears to stop ringing
I want to be sleeping every morning when the birds start singing
I want gentle love and passion from the man who has been my best friend
I want kept promises of our future, not threats of a near end
I want to stop talking in circles, never finishing a conversation
I want a life that has journeys but also has a destination
I need to keep my eyes clear, no high is worth chasing
I need to keep going even when all I can think about is escaping
These drugs will never love me back, they’d never chase me like I do them
Yet here I am begging for love to a man who makes me feel less than  
I’m tired of running after things that don’t even notice if I’m there
This life is so painful unforgiving and unfair

You, story master of comparison
Can you see without your Claritin?
Even the tools of your insight
Have they helped to make things right?
The story of your life
Is one among many
Your unique point of view
May only be true for you
And those that think like you do
There really is something to this wish fulfillment
But don’t think because you saw it out there
It’s the lords’ prayer.
So thinkers think
and
lovers’ love
and
dreamers continue in dreams.
Still, everything is not what it seems.

We think we are above
the beautiful greenery
scenery that we see
but did you ever see a tree
compare itself to another  

Said one tree to another:
Your foliage is a pale shade of yellow
Your bark is a lark
And you can’t play the cello
Like me
What kind of tree can you be?

Do the bees share their honey
or
does one crafty bee have a secret stash
hidden below the window sash
that he’s saving for a rainy day,
A getaway?

Did you ever hear a songbird say  
My song is sweeter than yours.
My high notes higher
On swifter wings do I soar.

If you’re tempted like me
To let a bee be a bee
And a tree be a tree
You will understand
If you want to soar
Don’t first attempt it from the highest floor
Don’t think there is a highest floor
Don’t think you need to soar
Don’t try to understand
Just let a bee be a bee
A tree be a tree
These are the things will set you free
Like the wind
You will wind like a gentle breeze
Then gust if you must
Never making a fuss
Don’t think you are,
Were, will ever be, anything
More or less than me,
Us, you, they, whoever
It was when I realized that all my trying
Simply wasn’t working
And I gave up.
But all it caused to say was
****.


I get it,
I really do
But,
Personally
If I want to keep you near dear  
I must set you free dear
Understand it’s very hard for me
I think you’ll agree.
I know what to do
Doesn’t mean I’ll do it
I’m not like a gentle breeze
More like a hurricane than a sneeze
Depends on your point of view
Because you see me,
Through you.
It’s true.
I have no idea what that means
It may be true
For all I know
I said so I should have meant it
I think it’s more like
I see through you,
Too
You can come out of the closet
And I will come out too,
But only with you.
Because we are the only two in there.
I don’t see anyone else.
Do you?
I’m not suggesting what you think
Far from it
So far from it
You know what I mean
No point in explaining
If nobody gets it
You do
And you’re not complaining.

So if you don’t want to be a bored buddha,
Eat some bread and buttar
Don’t forget to shutter
Stutter
Flutter
Mutter
Never rebut her
Never say mame
Because you found the only ******
And now you’re in a jam.

Pill poppin’
Party rockin’
Open the med cabinet to find my fix
Claritin for my allergies
Dayquil for the flu
Vitamins for the immune system
NoDose for school
Cepacol for the cough
I’m just pill poppin’ and party rockin’ my way through life
Caffeine to stay awake
Weight loss just to fit in
Can’t sleep eight hours
No that’s too much
Four will do well
There’s too much to do for a busy girl like me
College baby, gonna make a man outta me
My day is full, no matter what the calendar says
Up for work at 5
Bed by 2
Just pill poppin’
To keep party rockin’
Don’t know how much more I can take
But I’ll be ok
Just keep pill poppin’ and party rockin’
I can always sleep when I’m dead.

Asleep on your belly, or, alternately,
on your side, on me; the first night -
the first full night - with the promise of coffee
in the morning and not only allusions to it.

Your full weight on my thigh,
which I’d never tolerate in any night past,
but kept awake by the two scant hours
of partial sleep I had and admiration
of your neckline, the province of your back,
golden boughs embroidered under
thin hair
  part umber, part gold itself, cast on the pillow
your left hand
and its short fingers partially unearthed, nested
in a hillock of brown coverlet and blue curlicues,
opening and closing.

Hushed, I sip a drink and read a poem
as you murmur in sleep “yes”
to whatever invitation the one in dreams extends.

The one in dreams; he may be me. Gold from a summer
that has not happened yet, surer with a barbecue,
ready to paint a white thigh emerging from a sheet,
a better rendering than mine
  of the one spot you missed shaving.

He may be the husband of Scheherazade, prodding
one more story, one more night at a time.
You’ve a cobra in a willow basket.
It’s not a murmur. It isn’t “yes”.
It’s a gourd flute the land of dream gave you,
and I am not
the servant of the realm, or gold at all,
or worth my silk curtains. One thousand or
one thousand one; I can’t change,
not overnight.

I won’t know, nor ask, but
the snake isn’t transfixed.
It’s only waiting.

One day, I’ll appear in print.
The small merchant in Barataria
with whom Sancho Panza speaks.
You’ll describe those sheets
or some such other linens I have for sale -
an intimate detail of my home, returning the favor
of having appeared here. It will win a prize
you never knew you were competing for and
a dozen men in memory will whistle down “yes”.

If a taste could be liberation
then all I want is you.
Freedom is the essence
of you're being and
I just wanna be up in it.

Chills down my spine
sweat across my chest
that's your love coming
through my pores.

It's like...
clarity with no
Claritin-D
I can breathe just fine.

I've never known myself
before, a feeling
I didn't think was true.
But I'm changing.

Wipe my slate clean
because all I want is you.
A little untraditional
but I've fallen for a queen.

A taste was my liberation
in an essence...
you allowed me
to be free, to just
let it- let me
just be.

I must be allergic to you
every time you come near me I swear
my stomach starts doing somersaults
My palms grow slick with perspiration
and I start to asphyxiate on fantasies of you
Surely I must be allergic
Why else would my eyes water at the thought of losing you
why else would I hold onto hope like an epi-pen that you are meant for me?

sometimes i forget you’re deaf--- yeah I know, my voice sometimes sounds like yours, but remember you’re seeing my cameo appearance

sign language gives me the ability to see what you feel, the nuances that makes you, you, and hopefully you see that in me too.

my eyes trace the curl of your lips, the lifts of your cheekbones, the crinkles of your eyes, Not because you’re pretty (tho Im sure you think you are), not because I'm creepy, but because it’s my method of carrying on conversations. In your eyes are where I find your words, the verity on your cheeks, the tone on your lips.

Seeing as I can do that, DO...YOOOUU...STILLL...NEEEED...TOOO...TAALLK....LIIKKEE...THIISS­? **** NO. Over-enunciation is a thing and I don’t need that *******. I’m deaf, not dumb.

When people ask me, “Did you hear that?!”......HAHAHAHAHHA

There’s also that moment when you can’t distinguish whether your mom’s yelling at you cuz she mad or cuz you can’t hear

One of the best moments ever is like when I turn on my hearing aids and I’m waiting, like I get this start-up music, like windows pc, right? And like whammo! It’s Claritin-HEAR.

That awkward moment when you’ve asked someone to repeat 4 times and you still don’t understand what they said... :/

Calling on the phone. Let me see if I can get you to visualize this:
Ring Ring. Picks up
Hello, may I know whom I’m speaking to?
-Yes, this ---- Im here to talk about---. Is-----ome?
What, can you repeat that?
-Yes of cou--- to talk about---
Wait, Wait. Hold on, let me get my sister.
-Why? It's not---
Here you go.
*Done with conversation

I’ve got other examples: there’s the African accent of my family and friends from Africa. There’s the too quiet, can’t possibly speak louder than a whisper, there’s the too fast for my shirt. There’s the simple phone call from the dispatcher/sales person...There’s too much confusion on both ends and frustration when people on the other end must think you’re rude for wasting their time. I just got to the point that I would sometimes ignore phone calls because I’m not in the mood to embarrass myself not hearing anything they say.