So grace me through
my colors
Let's Start

God Grace me

Someone was smart
To raise me
But the blaze
came and love
pursued me
He pushed me
Into his hot blaze

His ***** of fire
A big part of the script
Another lift in his
desire
But my lips
Got raised up
But couldn't.sustain
the fire
The glossy shimmer
Sky hug
He Aint nothing but
a hound dog goodbye
Raised me Orange
Red Robin fly

But how you
face me
Never to
disgrace me

You pick me up with
all my goods
Odds with the bad
Honorable Gods
And so many facets
of my moods
Watch out!!
Starburst
Or a war curse

We  evaporate
In fragments

Orange segments
Sliced and eaten

Love forbidden fruit
One hidden

Embrace the warm solitude

all over your face,
Someone is rude
Fresh Orange
told you
It's Fate

That brought us
together
Orange juicier sun

So many love forms
Whose terms? Just run
This world full of
germs
But to juice things up


How the colors of your
eyes came to an epical stop

But nursed me
orange juice hip hop

He dazed into me
After-life
They named her
Saucy before-life
See ablaze
orange zest
See me and fly me
At my very best

My breast was
so nicely raised


Lips so fruitful
he cannot
resist you know
the rest??

In the mix of orange
things
Pink rings
Butterfly eyes
winged

Was set so privately-----*

The red tail hawk
Was the talk of the 
 Orangey words flowy
Popsicle poppy eye town
No time to refresh
my colors

Free bird orange up
The ramp no lady
and tramps
Just (Gypsies Orange Vamp)
The rocks fall to thump
Trump orange fixtures
Towers Forestal Gump

The soothing smile of lights
He came to you pop features
All over my place
So cultural to the race
The colors of
Orange mellow
oh! no
Here comes yellow----

Creaming into his
creamsicle
Gelato
popsicle
My feeling divided
like politics

Been sliced by
the orange Super bowl
Erotics
Sunny California Kist
Rodeo drive what a
list
Satanic red
Orange Christ
But that orange
She Shh_ sheets
Had the most vibrant
juicy beats
Tomato vines Rome
Lend me your orange
No ears no other
color of tears

Villians of vineyards
Orange bowl of fruit
No Junkyards
The owl started to hoot
Towards the bad apple

My heart was galloping
Shrimp and scallop
Right in my western charm
boot he takes off

Another mix of paint
Orange isn't carrots and
pumpkins
Austin Power Mini-me
Munchkins

Or goblins spooked
Mandarin Orange lovely
Divinely licked
Gingerly lovely Cayenne
Sweet Pepper he looked at her
Lucky 7 Orange ring karat

Whats up Doc_

Any cracks of his cravat
Orange Key-West lock
Doesn't turn get off
my block
I am going to
Bangkok
With Chuck

Having Orange Tang
He was holding me
777 karat ring
The  Mediterranian
party
Why so dead sea
Pink Smarty
Orange blosson tea
Orange Marquis
Louis and Diamonds
All clockwork
Orange movies

In the lounge of
Raymonds of ring
junkies
Pour OJ for me
**** a doodle doo

Flash of orange came at me
Do you want to?

The operation of heartless
surgery
The Showstopper emergency
Revived refreshing lady
of purity but no orange
The
((Orange Marquis))
Off to see the Wizardly
Orange field gorgeous
WC fields raise

Writer with the
lucky pen praise
Her editor was
the perfect color
ten

Miss coralline with
her coral rock
The mixed infusion

Next color comes up
Raise your brow reaction

Needing a follow-up

Orange rinds
Another call-up
Giddy Apps up
Orange glittering
passion fruit
paintbrush
Soap Opera beauty
and the beast
Another gulp the
pulp pretty in pink
psst_

Orange-pink tropical
girl orange whirl
The orange-red ringlets
She curled inside him
Glass raise you cup trim
In your villa stucco orange
You were breastfeeding
his orange suited juice

No time to see another
color
Orangey wiz showbiz
Arabian sky sunset
burnt orange
The caramel bump
of the camel
Her favorite one
mural

Lips of tang so foreign
She is flaming like a
flamingo bed

Get his color out of
Cotton picking head
Your shampoo
The
"Orange Oddysey"

Hey, what do you say?

Just open your
eyeshadows
He shadows her in

Or a site for sore eyes got
puffy war of
orange bubbles begin

Feather me
orange wings
The fringe orange
suede
flops
you happy

The A+ diet of fruit
he was the
hotshot
Glass
You're at the
bake me
What do you know
he passed

The spa refreshing
orange peel
mystique

Long lace-lit
Unique
He was coming on too
bossy orangey burst
cheeks were falling
Rise up not down
Orange Julius raise
his price
Fed Ex orange truck
got closer to
Her alluring butterfly
Orange U glad
To catch her
To court her
Fast Orange perfume
She Sha shala
femme
Orange flames came
from his cleft

Still no time for your
spouse whoa he left_

Now please let me know

what I left out
Orange you glad

this is the only color love
him madly

At the stroke of five o’ clock
The crew begins to trickle in the door for
Josie’s Slumber Party.
Hand cut finger sandwiches adorn
The chestnut coffee table already brimming
With nail polishes and eyeshadows
In hues of peacock blue and bubblegum pink
And temptress scarlet red. The girls
Romp around the room like ballerinas
Dressed in everything from soccer shorts to
Mama’s high heels. Two sizes too big.
Practically ladies as they gloss their lips but
Girlish giggles and squeals reveal their
Youth: Age ten; age eleven; age twelve.
And in the middle of this fine affair
Polished nails are used to pick at teeth;
Makeup adheres to bangs, braids and ponytails.
Bare hands brush through the knotted hair of
Any and All. Beauty  – of course – is collective, yet
Dignified.


As if to call the girls over, lure them in so painfully slow,
The sprinklers awaken on the front lawn and spill forth
Waterfalls of childhood memories. Running barefoot
during the searing summer dusk. The girls are under
The Spell. Feather boa and lipstick at hand, they make
A mad dash for the lawn. The squeals are louder, more
Vibrant than before. With grass stains on their gowns
and water re-tangling their freshly styled hair, these
Ladies could not be any more proper.

there's a girl who sleeps in my bed
I don't mind her too much
though I wish her nightmares
didn't make such a mess
of the sheets.

she uses my shampoo
I'm okay with sharing
I just wish she would
save me a little
conditioner.

most of the makeup in my room is hers
some of it's mine though
I prefer blushes, eyeshadows
while she collects
concealors.

and sometimes, on the right day
I see her when I look in the mirror
not very often though
I don’t really look a lot
like her.

when I look in the mirror
I see flushed cheeks, wet hair
nails need a trim
hips, a little excess
but okay.

I don’t always see cuts
bruises, starvation, memories
of self-induced punishment
three failed attempts at
"making it stop".

I don’t always see
the ghost of years ago
when I look in the mirror
but sometimes
I do.

The lining of my grey suit
sparkles like it can't tear itself
from the stars full of secret passions
which belt my skin hugging eyes
to strokes of gentle smooth
back handed compliments
tightly lingering on your waist
while imaginary boutonnières
are pressing comfortably into ribs
feeling you pinch my collar
and tug towards its button hole
open to curl a whispered flower
tight enough to pin my breast pocket heart
against moving from your own
pressing loveliness

It's no surprise when you shock
my circadian rhythms out of sleep
sending me to bed at the most opportune
time's tales stalling the early hours
to wet my dry lips on doubles
of Bombay Sapphire gin
blue skies
stirred into a Campari soda aperitif
red as all round sunsets
going down on a burning gold mine
melting the ice cube universe above it
into the trailing edge of your light path

As if the cult of comet Hale-Bopp
had returned from Heaven's Gate
in the form of an insomniac priestess
landing craft crushes gone rampant
as it heads for a melting Icelandic glacier
crashing like a bouncing ball
in rolled up sheets
sliding to a temporary stop
scrunched around your hair
shaking the doubts of the day
out like a cascading highlight
rushing into the shadows
and on to tremulous scalding streams
brushing my shirt stripes apart

thoughts like magnetic locks jolted
into releasing dark bright conflict
to see where gasps could bite
without spilling tears of poisonous scalding
hot from wells dug deep in fissured oases
trying to bury hands with cupped fingers
impatient to splash in your wake
and unpack those mirrored thumbs
dug into well sprung geyser like palms
leaning ******* the prison walls of the night
like off duty guards

letting down their punishment roughly
until disappearing through wide open eyeshadows
as startled as rabbits caught escaping
by a searchlight wanting to skin them alive
and throw them under a sheet
covered in burrowed tunnels of love
to emerge the other side neatly redressed
in grey morning suits and starshine eyes

Maybe it was my ball passing
-with a turning sound-
They build the walls
and you will grow up she said
With a soft hair
She didn't understand the wind
She thought she was not being loved
Maybe they don't love Jasmines
The dolls are naked
They want mommy
I didn't like their laughs
Why are they laughing at me ?
Clowns do not laugh
Angel does not need any help
I want eyes
Wearing eyeshadows
Wearing mascara
They don't have tears
The world not have tears
Where's mom ?
Maybe she doesn't love me
She was telling stories as she
was hanging the clothes on the clothesline
My sister was there
The Eglantines go to bed soon
I'm scared
The angel didn't ask for help
I wish there was someone who hears my words


شاید توپ من بود که می رفت
-صدای قل خوردن داشت-
دیوارها را کشیدند
و گفت : تو بزرگ خواهی شد
موهایش نرم بود
باد را نمی فهمید
فکر می کرد دوستش ندارند
شاید یاسمن ها را دوست ندارند
عروسک ها لختند
مامان می خواهند
از خنده هاشان خوشم نمی آمد
چرا به من می خندند
دلقک ها که نمی خندند
فرشته کمک نمی خواهد
من چشم می خواهم
سایه بزند
مژه هایش را
فر کند
اشک ندارند
...اشک نداشته باشند
مادرم کو !؟
شاید دوستم ندارد
وقتی لباس هایم را
زیر آفتاب پهن می کرد
!!! قصه می گفت
خواهرم بود
نسترن ها زود می خوابند
...می ترسم
فرشته کمک نخواست
من می خواهم کسی باشد که حرف هایم را بشنود

Oh my tree
blossom child, winter wave-like
eyeshadows and equally
cold stares. Silently

screaming with a closed
mouth. Who ghosts
trough out alone.  Do not

waste your lungs
to ponder. Wolfs of
now might starve with summer, but

the hounds of old will
continue to hunt.  Alas
not sap drop of pitty

do you deserve. You in
cherry cyanide light who
washes in tears of sugar.

The lycans will at last
tear your ephemeral skin. And you'll
learn to slay beasts like man was meant to

Red horizon―
had bite-marks
of setting sun.

On the table,
I will place all my oblique wares
for a change.

You embrace the strange
things, horns and all. The
dissection was accurate.

A multiplex opens the
gates for all the
lipless gods.

The maddening silence
of the priest was
deafening.

I will not come near the skulls.

You know about my life,
Specifically, love.
You know my secrets,
I give you all my trust.

You always get sensitive about your eyebrows.
You don't even know how to put eyeshadows.
I don't know if you read this already.
But I wanna say my dear cousin, you are lovely.

i keep a drawer in
my bathroom full
of all the things that make
me appear pretty

the little pots of shimmery
eyeshadows to suggest
i’m feminine but more
importantly fully awake
and the dark crayons to
draw lines that simulate
an innocent expression
the powder to smooth out
the bad spots so you
don’t see the bad thoughts
the mascara to pull my lashes
outward and pull the focus
away from what you might
possibly see behind my eyes

fear
do not
let them see
the fear

and tucked in the drawer
of pencils and palettes
i keep a sharpener
so when my womanly
sense of protection
begins to dull i will
not find myself
at odds with the competition

in the drawer above them
i keep my elastic bands
to prevent a slow
and knotted descent
into the madness
of being choked
in my hair
my own weird
sometimes insane
always interesting or
at least provocative thoughts

i also keep a pack
of razor blades for
when the constant struggle
to maintain this illusion
of sanity gets to be
too much for me

the hair ties are stretched
beginning to fall out
won’t hold things in place
nearly well enough
and i am completely
blind and lost in this
rainstorm and the wind
blowing in my face

the blades
are calling me again
a dark and
slippery promise
of something
of what?

of peace?
lies
of art?
i can do better
of pain?
always

elusive always
getting away from
me just as soon
as i can pin it down

the purpose
is fear
but only the
expression of it

i’m afraid
always so
afraid it’s not
good like this

but if i cover
the fear with
my clothes
no one will
ever even
know

i keep a drawer
in my bathroom
and every morning
i select powders
and pencils to
present myself as alive

and every morning
i stare down a pack
of razor blades
half wishing i wasn’t

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

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

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

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

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

Kim (one of my BFF) brightened with inspiration, “Oooo! Send him a **** pic!”
“I’m NOT going to sext a guy out of the BLUE,” I grumbled, indignantly.

Kim turned to her phone, “No, No, of COURSE not.” She said as she texted.

“Come on” she said, as she pulled me off my chair and out the door. We raced over, on foot, to my friend Bili’s house (two houses away). We entered without knocking (as usual) and ran upstairs.

Bili lay on her stomach on her unmade bed, fiddling with her phone, ankles up and crossed but she twisted up to attention when we came in.
“What should we do first?” She said, as if there were a million things to do.

They set upon me and had my regular clothes off in a heartbeat. Like all makeovers, this had a prelapsarian purity - the ritual stripping down to blankness before rebuilding.

They quickly went through about half of Bili’s closet - selecting just the right combination of ****** and classy clothes designed to ******.

They finally settled on a black slip under an ivory peignoir, stockings with garters and black strappy heels.

Kim twisted my hair up into a loose “Gibson Girl.”

“Hold still,” Bili said, as she grasped my chin and expertly blended red, gold and black glittery eyeshadows followed by lip liner and gloss. “This is just a quickie job,” she reminded me.

I stared at this strange version of myself in the vanity.

Kim frowned and looking around, she spread a pink scarf over the desk light to give the room a rosy glow. They went into studio mode - posing me in various ways from coquettish to bored lounging - suggesting expressions and taking endless pictures with my phone.

Finally, they were satisfied and handed me my phone.
“Shall we go through them?” Bili asked

“Naah,” I said, “I’ll go through ‘em and pick one - or two.”

Later, at home, I looked through them - I looked SO different - and I had to admit - **** even. But was that ME? I cringed, what if my mom saw these ******, Kardashian-like photos somewhere?

I never sent them. I thought I’d have to explain it to my girls.
“HA!” They laughed, “We KNEW you’d never use ‘em” Bili said, as Kim shook her head “Nope.”
“It was fun though!” We all agreed.
.
.
.
*NOTE: This is a pre-pandemic story from August 2019. I was 15 - the idea wasn’t to ****** this guy, it was to get his interest so he would ask me out 🙃

It is 1985. I wake up from an afternoon nap, about to get ready for another night-out.
You see, I'm a typical distressed teenager just trying to make it out alive through music and art.
I take a shower while The Cure is blasting along the trickles of water.
I take my rollers, hairspray and flashy eyeshadows, glamming up for a night packed with new wave music, dancing with other teenagers who share my sentiment.
A night free of alcohol or any narcotics; the loud, booming music is enough to give me that high.
Oh, take me back to the era fit for my old soul.

nothing

what am i

that

just that

i feel it

real

deep

under the skin

above my scratched fingernails

that smell like your smell

your baggy clothes

oh

they hide you

and your shapes

like a secret

of a friend

stabbing a friend

in the back

you don’t wanna say it

you’d rather staple your tongue

right beneath

the bottom edge of your

speaking terms

listen

your knees

crack

again

like the bones

of the dead

like mine

maybe i am dead

i didn’t

ever

think that i

would make it

all the way here

why are you a secret?

you want me

to peel all those layers

off

like a smiling face

scattered teeth

breaking those corners

where saliva gets solid

and my dream fade

i lose focus

i gain focus

on that cage

those white chains

of fabric

that hold you and your skin

in place

but you slide on the floor

you jump

from one side to the other

for me

you break yourself apart

for me

but it’s too late

i’m broken

i broke myself for you

orange, yellow

too many days wasted

keep on sliding

next to me

let yourself dangle

above this concrete marble

we call ground

point a gun

at my face

with your hands

form that shape

the one that’s gonna **** me

just like when

you decide to agitate

your crown

your throne

your body

i stop seeing sides

it all gets modern

contemporary social

vertical

like I can only stare

at the broken drama

of your fading

skinny

ribcage

oh you do

you lift that shirt up

it’s lined up

like a zebra

i feel your skin getting dirtier

at every single step you take

around my wooden room

the lights flicker

it always has

but is feels like

it’s flickering

in a different movement

it gets blue

my hands go up

they slide

around your slippery legs

you keep on running away

you can’t move like you wish

but i promise

if you could

if only you could

see yourself

and how your hands attract energy

you would

most probably

fall in love

with yourself too

isn’t it cold

with that belly button

ripped apart?

ready

where do those shoulders go?

how does that hair move like that?

i’ve seen unimaginable things

in life

i’ve seen many

i can’t find a meaning

to who i am

and why

but you

the camera flashed

you scream

cute

it echoes

around the room

we pass out

on a couch

still humming some

the sun’s dropping

on wires

hanging

through shoes

theown away

i wanna write

all of your letters

around my eye

i glitter

with bubbles

with teeth

golden

of diamonds

like moon

jumping up and down

in a sad

abandoned park

of fear

and abandonment

i told you

who i was

before

i swung

my gun

around

my car

filled with greenery

it’s growing beneath

my pink hair

and your lush

collar

for me to entice

to anticipate

to think about

as i’m scattered around your living room

on the floor

torn to pieces

blown away

in spikes

to the wind

it’s like

all the times

we traveled

we felt through something

i stared

at your skin

in a towel

through a balcony

the eiffel tower in lingerie

a gust of the ocean

out

let’s go all out

baby

we can

fall

through all those doors

those gothic windows

those old phones

straighten ourselves

our eyebrows

military

eyeshadows

lighs

they chase us

but we’re falling in

barefoot on

thumbtacks

on fire

a carpet

made of glass

roses

it felt all real

you felt real

if it was a lie

lie to me again

i wanna be lied to

i’d go through

a cup of scolding tea

for your running

by the sea

to come close

for your lipstick

to bend around my clothes

for the smell of your tears

next of kin

your legs closing in

skin to skin

Anxiety is red
Red like biting the inside of your mouth so hard that blood spills out onto your tongue and you can taste it on your lips
Red like that lip gloss that you're too afraid to wear out in public because it's a little too bold for the way everyone perceives you
Red like marks "for improvement" spewing from every line of that paper you thought you did really well on
Red like stop signs that you can't always see because it's kind of dark outside and you forgot your glasses at your house and oh god why did you even leave
Anonymity is orange
Orange like going to a motel in a town you've never stayed in with old shower curtains from the 70s
Orange like goldfish at different state fairs that die a day later that you win for tossing a hoop on a bottle
Orange like trying on bright eyeshadows at random stores and pretending to be someone you're absolutely not
Orange like sticking your head out of the window on a highway and basking in the streetlights and singing your favorite song as loud as you can because no one knows who you are and it's okay
Happiness is yellow
Yellow like her seemingly endless hair flowing as she knocks her head back in laughter at something you said
Yellow like catching fireflies with your little sister just before the dusk sets in and she wants to keep them all
Yellow like faded pages of old letters that you keep in a shoe box and read when you're missing her
Yellow like sunshine beaming through tree leaves on a warm day with the slightest breeze that makes the whole world release a calming sigh
Change is green
Green like the curtains in your room that have seen how you've grown and they're on your side
Green like your first day of school when you aren't sure who to sit with at lunch so you end up sitting alone in your car
Green like creek water mixing with the tears falling from your eyes because you realized that he hurt you he hurt you he hurt you and he's nothing
Green like the way that the earth gently transitions from spring to summer to autumn to winter and back to spring in a never ending cycle
Depression is blue
Blue like before it rains when the clouds blend in with the dark sky and the sun seems to be only a memory
Blue like telling her that you're going to sleep so she won't worry when you know you'll be awake until you can no longer cry
Blue like your tear-stained eyes in the mirror when you've relapsed after two years of being clean
Blue like fingernail polish that has to be absolutely perfect on your nails because you've convinced yourself that it's the only thing you do right but you keep messing even that up
Love is violet
Violet like tasting the weeds that your mom always called "honeysuckles" when you were a child
Violet like leaving pressed wildflowers on your favorite pages of your favorite books for someone to find someday
Violet like the love bites she left on your chest, on your stomach, your thighs, arms, neck
Violet like the lipstick she wears when she's feeling bold and you're so in love with her it's hard to find words to put your thoughts together

Tell me what it is like to be beautiful
I'll tell you what broken glass feels like on my fist
Tell me what it is like to be loved
I'll tell you how a blade feels like on my wrists

Tell what it is like to have a thigh gap
I'll tell you about all the gaps I bear in my heart
Tell me about your colourful eyeshadows
I'll show you the blue and green painting me on every part

Tell me what it is like to be happy
I'll tell you what it is like to drown in your own sorrow
Tell me what it is like to feel alive
I'll tell you how it's like to lose faith in a tomorrow

Tell me what it is like to feel safe
I'll tell you how it's like to be shaken to the core
Tell me what it is like to be free
I'll tell you what it's like to spend your life waiting for an open door

Tell me what it is like to be jamming to music
I'll tell you what it's like to be haunted by screams of agony
By mingling of chains and muffled cries
Playing round and round like a twisted symphony

Tell me what it is like to feel warm
I'll tell you what the cold floor feels like under bare skin
When your body shivers so hard you think you'll finally cave in