Unperturbed in austere times
Unentangled in a web of complex signs
Unfazed by a vicious complex
I find solace in the face of duress
Configured to righteousness
I am withdrawn from Cross and Crescent mess
Invisible against a tide of boisterous wave
I weave my way and gravitate towards space
The sun a distant memory
Passion and zeal my most valuable armoury
In the heavens i light my stars
In paradise lost i leave my mark
With Noah's design hacked
Not even Jupiter can navigate my ark
Unlike terminator I Am Back

They are the ones
That rule the world for fun
They disseminate the guns
And tell us to run
So we flee
From their disease
That will not cease

Power is control that money buys
Burying us in gold and petty lies
They tell us the well has run dry
While we watch them fly

Fences of barbed wire
For us to admire
Inferno funeral pyres
Burn our desires

When they rattle
We're the cattle
That goes to battle

They talk to us with false information
And real bullets
They say it is our fault for instigation
The trigger they pull it
When their saccharine voice
Offers a laughable choice
Forsake love and compassion
To adopt their fashion
Of society crashing
They used to use lashings
Now they use time
Punishing those who aren't complicit in their crimes
They put us in prison
If we don't agree with their decisions
Decimating Bedouin life
So they can profit from strife

People ask who "they" are
The easiest answer is not me
And the problems aren't too far
For anybody to see
That there is a "they"
Not intent on doomsday
But numb to the death of strangers
Which puts us all in danger
I could point to examples like Lockheed Martin and Shell
As two companies that put us in hell
Or a country like North Korea
That has violent ideas
Or a man like Donald Trump
Who is a parasitic lump

They convince us they don't exist
So we don't resist
While they insist
We enlist
In their army
Of harming
Starring
Them
We hem
And haw
While they write laws
That point out our flaws
That are minimal compared to theirs
Yet they are the fortunate heirs
Who decide the code of conduct
Which is whatever sells their product
From plastic to bombs
Killing dolphins and moms
They feel they can't be wrong
When might
Is right
The meek take flight
But there is poison in the air
And they don't even care
They **** the Earth
And ****** its inhabitants
What are we worth
When it's to the rich we gravitate?

There is an apostle
Who's turned into a fossil
That is converted into fuel
So they can keep their pull
And use us as tools
To unearth jewels
And hoard them
Because we can't afford them
We surrender our resources to a select few
To do what they choose
Until we all lose
And can't see the light of day
Who else to blame but "they"?

There can be no growth carrying the perception that your life is a solid state of being. You are fluid. Time is fluid. Emotions are fluid. Respect the river. And dive in. The moments don't linger, though the hunger is real- and you cannot define yourself by the routines you currently tread. One different decision. One change of direction. With every step another decision is made. Who am I becoming? With every breath the nature of the experiences of our lives unfold. Exercise your inherited powers of evolution. Left foot, right foot. Work. Sleep. "But this is how I've always done it." Not anymore. It is time for me to go this way now. Because it is time for me to grow. Nothing is certain, nor will it ever be. Some things just feel right. Like a gravitational pull towards the light. Each potential path we could walk is promised to be overflowing with new experiences, new friendships, new hardships and new self discoveries. Wherever it may come to lead- new happiness, new sadness and new love that you never knew could exist- will be born. A new version of ourselves will emerge. Do not waste away lying dormant, like oceans drained bone-dry by emotionless routines. Become change. Gravitate towards love and towards passion. Like the rapids of a river evolving.

Lucky.

Some people would look at this little life of Grace and think, ****, she is lucky. Of course, you know better, don't you, Wonderland? You know what goes on in my hodge-podge head where the rainbows lament and the killers dance.

So come and tell me what my kiss tastes like. I want to know if the poison is evident or I'm just the one who can feel it.

Skeletons twirl on my walls, and that's not a metaphor. I literally have neon skeletons dancing on my walls. That's just the type of person I am.

No where. That's where we're going right now, with wonderful gibberings of a lost cockatoo, so lost she found herself in a young woman's body.

Lost little Grace, trying to find her place in the world, just like her beloved Alice. Yet Alice was always free of Wonderland at the end of the night. Or was she? She did always gravitate towards the insane place, maybe she's just as trapped as Grace.

Musings of the world as I grow, from young little wide-eyed girl to the woman I am today. A young woman, albeit, a naive, wide-eyed woman with too much hope in her heart, but a woman nonetheless.

The scars of your love leave me breathless. Oh no, no they don't. I hope mine have left you dead.

Still bitter I am how my caterpillar betrayed me. Have I not told this story? How in the dark of the night he found solace in the wings of another, to leave me blind to his deception. Thank the gods the March Hare had the sense to enlighten me.

Now I spend my nights in the arms of other, and I could not be happier. Never one solid man, never one stationary enough to become a character of Wonderland. But there enough so the loneliness does not creep up on me in the waking hours of the moon.

Stars are my companions now, yes, that's what they are. I am always stargazing and sometimes, when I'm lucky, I share my pantomimed sleep with them, pantomimed for of course I do not sleep.

So perhaps I am lucky, for I am a Grace surrounded by stars, and at the moment, I would not have it any other way.

Seeing you is like watching an earth-moving force
A comet sent to wipe out the species of thought
Dinosaurs, crawling- viscous
The plains of my body, earth
The sky falling into itself
Spilling out the wonders of the heavens
The twinkling-diamond sharp plains of your wit
And the rich –muddy-mire of heart

Your body a magnet I gravitate
The pull of your skin,
Crushed -velvet fingers finding fixed hold
On dipped shoulder plains
A breath to warm wintered cheeks
Stretching the kiss of blushed smile
Completely surrounded embraced by the sun

Furnace, summer-heat
Growing, budding in the freshly -sweetened air of love
Flowering, the temple walls well taken care of
Watered with the wealth of your affection
Contented with you attention

Your gaze
Your praise
By everything that is you
This earthly temple humming and infused
Quaking with the intensity of acceptance
While continuing her latest obsession
Lonely earth, she who is unlike other cosmic forms

A blip in the eyes of some
But behold the brilliance of which she shines
Golden hair and sea green eye
Beneath the brilliance of her sun
By his gravity she has become
More beautiful by far
The earth and her heated star.

I crave adventure in ways I myself cannot understand.
But I think that’s what losing a loved one does to you. It creates a sort of entrapment that cannot be overcome. You’ve lost something incredibly valuable and you’re left with no means of ever getting it back. You begin to gravitate towards all open roads because you’ve got no ties holding you down. It’s almost like deep down, you’re searching for what’s been lost.

I think feelings of loss and feelings of entrapment go hand in hand. If you blink, you might miss how quickly they follow each other into the room.

You’re now alone in this world.
You’ve been left behind and you cannot help but feel trapped in this place where you cannot find what’s been taken.

And I try, I do really try to remember that loved ones are only ours to borrow and never to keep but it’s easier said than done. Especially when you lose a twin.

The loneliness is incredible but the suffocation that ensues is inevitably worse.
See, when parents lose a child, they gravitate towards the pieces in their lives that didn’t shatter.
I am one of those pieces.
I am the piece that hasn’t shattered: their only living child.

And my parents are holding onto me so tightly, they are blind to the damage induced by their suffocating grasp. Permanent damage. The kind of damage that will make me flee from any and all means of control, any and all relationships that might try to bind me to a time or place because I cannot stay any longer here there anywhere. Anywhere at all that might result in being chained.

To induce the sort of suffocation I may not survive now.

Because I am drowning.

It’s ironic in a dark Sylvia Plath way. I have always feared that drowning would be a terrible way to go. I never thought I would experience what it was like to drown on land.

But I am here. I am here in this moment. And in this moment I cannot breath. There is oxygen all around me and I still cannot breath.

You guys are suffocating me. I am the remaining living child and you guys are suffocating me.

I.

Cannot.

B R E A T H

Just a man. That’s all he was and would be to me. My mother seemed to see something in him, enough to introduce him to me and my younger sister, but that does not change anything that’s happened. It does not heal the pain I still feel from the three years of watching my parents fall apart. I was unsure who to blame until now. It had to be my mom. The hope that my parents would soon get back together was suddenly gone. It felt official: a broken family is all that I would ever have. There would be no place to call my home, just houses. I feel so misunderstood, as if I’m walking around, screaming for help and understanding, but no one hears my cry. I can tell I’m growing into a pessimist. After the divorce and passing of several close family members what was there to look forward to in my life? More heartache?  Standing outside of the rental house I hated, I shook his hand, faked a smile, and rushed to my car. I wanted no part in this. Good luck, man.
The next few encounters with the man are much like the first. I don’t say much. I watch nerves gravitate as he tries his hardest to get to know me. It is almost as if he can sense my hard exterior. I appreciate the effort. He keeps coming around.  My sister seems to like him, but of course she does; she is the happy-go-lucky one. They are always laughing as they talk. I listen in to some of their conversations. He’s pretty funny. I observe the man and my mom as they cook yet another dinner together. The way he looks at her; it’s so innocent. The way she looks at him; it’s so captivating.  A smile takes over my face before I can think to stop myself. The more I see of them together the more smiles I am unable to resist. In these moments I knew this man, Cary, would be important to us. The very reason for my hardening will be the same for my surrender: family.
I’m laughing, I’m crying, I’m expressing myself with different emotions besides anger! I can talk to him about anything; I have even talked to him about my parents’ divorce. He listens attentively, he always listens attentively. He tells me the story of the time he got caught skipping school because he ended up in the hospital. My mom and dad have been all over my case about my attendance. It’s comforting to know that he was also the rebellious child in his family. He always helps me to know that I am not the only one; I trust Cary. I dare even say that I consider him a best friend. We have had so many fun times together. I think of watching The Office, Saturday Night Live, and YouTube videos we quote CONSTANTLY. I think of turning doughnuts in my high school parking lot when school was cancelled because of snow... Oh! Then there’s the time we had a competition to see who could steal the coolest thing from a restaurant. I think he beat me. I would never admit that to him though! When I open the kitchen cabinet, that **** IHOP coffee mug still smirks at me, gloating, reminding me of my defeat. I think back to the first day we met; we certainly have come quite the distance. My insecurities are replaced with confidence. He has helped me find myself and develop my character into someone who is proud to be different. I like who I am.
May 16th 2011: he calls to wish me good luck, and to tell me how proud he was of me for making it as far as I had. I calm my nerves, get dressed and adjust my cheerleading bow. Today was my day. Today was the day I was going to make The University of Alabama’s first all-girl cheerleading squad. I leave the gym as one of the lucky few who has made it to the final round. The countdown begins as I wait for the list to be posted. This is it. I slowly walk towards the door. Girls pass me crying because their world was shattered. Girls pass me screaming in excitement because their dream came true. I take a deep breath and look at the paper. Makenzie Hill, Makenzie Hill, Makenzie Hill… MAKENZIE HILL! That’s me! My dream came true! I run to the car and my mom is ecstatic. We are jumping and crying tears of joy. I celebrate with my cousin and my Godmother as my mom goes to make phone calls. She returns, tears still flowing, but the joy has left her eyes. What’s wrong? My world was shattered. May 16th 2011: the day I lost my stepfather and best friend.
I place my bow in his cold hand. My voice won’t hold steady “I did it, Cary. I made it.” My mind and heart race each other as overwhelming emotions and questions fill me. I begin wondering how we will ever manage to pull ourselves together again as a family. I remember Cary. He taught me that it is okay to trust things you are unsure of. He taught me the importance of family and time together. He taught me faith. I must stay strong for him. The man I once wanted no part of is forever a part of me. He is my angel.

it's etiquette, aesthetics in itself? a bit like: art for art in itself? who the hell minds calling etiquette an aesthetic movement, when etiquette only serves itself, rather than an aesthetic for others to observe an call for the: decor in oculus ex spectator... the concept of etiquette ***** sweaty salty ***** in the realm of aesthetics, it's principled for itself alone, and no one else... what it is is: absurd.

i don't understand why the english press
doesn't fathom polish nationalism -
i simply cannot fathom it -
  implying that polish nationalism is
tinged with neo-**** slurs is simply
unfathomable to me,
   might as well add:
at least the poles do not have the problem
to discuss ethnic-cocktails of
3/4 italian a quarter jew...
                   it's not out of bias -
i've lived in england for over 20 years,
i have not pledge a dual-national identity -
and i lean toward using english in
my cognitive realm more than i tend
to entertain using polish -
proof? i can't remember the months
alphabet in polish...
                    a week i can remember,
the nouns, but a year? **** me,
near impossible.
                     yet what bothers me is that
western journalism is afraid of:
not so much the nationalism -
          but the collectivism -
the uniform undisputed collective -
   what scares them is that in poland,
   there is no fringe movement -
   it's populist - they're actually afraid
of what an authentic nation looks like...
   this is not some ***-crack of an alt-right
movement, this is people coming together
without a dialectical impetus, or precursor,
it's a tsunami, an *******,
and for that: there's no chance to slander,
to pick out the weakest antelope,
the youngest, and apply the slander,
the naming, equating that person with
being neo-****... ironically in about 100
years they'll call them polish concentration
camps, rather than german concentration camps,
which is why i once suggested,
pull them apart, and ship them off to
germany...
                    neo-****** doesn't exist
in poland, what western cultures fear
is an actual *nation - a collective -
not bothered whether there is a worthwhile
individualism to be catered for -
put twice simply:
  for all the care for individualism -
western individuals have produced
   a stock of, rather, unspectacular
individuals...
                          this abhorrent politico
of defending the mediocre expressions,
hopeful for the ******* "golden child"
is exhausting - in the anglophone world
i'm either living in an insane asylum,
or a nursery...
      can't decide which...
    but if you look at the most
mediocre person in a collective?
    can you see any mediocre, can you
actually see it? i can't:
because the people have gathered,
        and the tsunami doesn't dismember
you into an individual:
  it dismembers you to align you
into a collective, and as a collective:
     you are a force to be reckoned with.
neo-**** slurs will not work on these people,
you have to gravitate to this conclusion,
when people are united,
they do not feel intimidated...
esp. when there's no ethnic-cocktail
to mind, pick and choosing paternal or
maternal heritage...
                 western journalistic turnip-heads
can't tell the difference between
healthy, collective nationalism,
  and fringe groups in their own
countries...
don't you ******* get it?!
of all the countries in western europe,
what country in the amalgam took an
existential "hiatus" from the history books?
which one became incorporated in
the trinity of prussia, austro-hungary
and russian?
  waiting for a ******* answer...
answer? none!
                        can you at least entertain
the idea that people are celebrating
their nationalism, because they have
regained their nation?!
        no? wait till you lose yours,
            you'll be ******* jack ****-a-boo
         in a few years...
   slurring these people as neo-**** is like
typing out that typical psychiatric:
false regression technique...
                  were you occupied by the nazis?
wait, i thought you said the israelis were nazis...
no i'm confused with this whole
   trans omni movement that branches
into ***, skin and tears...
                   it's simple fear,
that the centre of warsaw can be lit up in red,
and be filled with a cloud of smoke...
       emerging from the flares -
and that similar attempts in the anglophone
world are equivalent to:
  poached oysters,
                            under cooked potatoes,
overcooked spaghetti...
      pointless as an umbrella opened,
when shoved up someone's ***.

p.s. guess what, i'm not afraid of an individual
opinion,
                individuals harass and
mongrel the idea of bullying by
collective consent -
                           they have none...
and don't you think that any sport,
most notably rugby, is a simulation
  of *******, and the travel through
the ******? i guess most sport is,
but rugby exemplifies the ***** journey -
notably: they're passing an egg-shaped
ball.

Shelves, guarding me.
Books, keeping me company.
As I look through the window,
I long to have the wind brush me away
Like how the malunggay plants sway the day,
How the pine tree tricks me when it bends down,
And how the white butterflies gravitate like autumn leaves.
I wish to go outside
And make new friends
And waste whatever's left of me.
But this empty part of the library,
The only place that knows me,
Is where I meet with my best friend time,
And she is the only one to understand my rhymes.

I hurt

I bleed

I am a human being

I sometimes sit in a hot bath and cry

I feel words that speak

Speak wisdom and individuality

Others find my personality embarrassing

There is a select few who will see more to you

Your glory

Your strength

Your humanity


Those are the ones you should love dearly

Let go of those who want to hate because their insecurities taught them to fear

They need to conquer their own journey

If they win maybe they will gravitate back and you can start over once again

Until then you need to find your own path and let go of them

It is not selfishness but the right to find the direction you were meant to see

You are a human being

i gravitate towards you
like a dusky desolate deposit of dirt
to its glimmering counterpart
of lapis lazuli, ridden with veins of gold

i reach and reach
to no avail
and i watch as you spin quickly away
stumbling and straightening before slipping into another stagnant spiral

how do i catch up to one
so quickly moving amongst the stars?
celestial bodies they may be
but i am a mere moon, reflecting light for your gaze

i can feel my muscles expanding and stretching
tendons taut with tension and
heart pounding and pounding away at the pavement
as i move forward and grasp outwards to you

but a mere millimeter of air becomes solid
and my knuckles crash against nothingness
instead of the warmth of your palm
which i'm not truly sure was even there to begin with

the darkness of this dying universe
is colder and more derelict than i have the capacity
to understand; and so i curl inwards
alone amongst pebbles and freely floating matter

because a moon without a planet
is simply an orb named vesta
or a goddess called hestia:
frequently forgotten and oft omitted
by those who claim to be scholars of myth, keepers of lore
and by extension, the very children she presided over
overseer of life and hearth nevermore.

I got a chip on my shoulders
Babyfaced with alot of talking
Dark skinned and alot of moving

My chip does this and that in a few.
Based from top to bottom its mis-
Understood. Blame it on me.

Ive got this big life full of doubt's
And full of hate. These people don't
Understand my chip. Ive a big ***
Chip on my shoulder. Gravitate towards
The kind Man! Cause this one has nothing for you.

Please my soil can I just have my chip
And move on with my day. Ive got a big as chip
On my shoulders. People talk but will never resolve.

Ive got this chip on my shoulders, does this
Even make any sense????

This pond  is where I will die,
Squandering in owl hours to ****.
Still, the Ducks swim by.

The blue moon is a Julia Dragonfly
Haunted by a lethal, green dream thrill.
This pond is where I will die.

Threadbare Marauder Rooks squawk a cry,
The stickleback flakes its dithering gill.
Still, the Ducks swim by.

Importunate possums chase ducks to comply,
How could my moon mother be so ill?
This pond is where I will die.

Bluebirds deflate their keels with a sigh,
I gravitate towards their beauty, I am still.
Still, the Ducks swim by.

Aureole Sirius tip toes the sky,
Nimbus withers, Kamikaze men shrill.
This pond is where I will die.
Still, the Ducks swim by.

His motion dark. It’s sickening
how fields are barren from the salt.
The years they come to ****** away my mind.
The brewing hate is welcoming
So raise your finger to them all
and fall back into comatose this last time.

If there’s a need, I’ll gravitate
into the gaps of history
and break the burden of this yoke for you.
With tainted cups we celebrate
the sowing of a fractured seed.
Its funeral for everyone we knew.

The morsels fall from trickled thoughts
they taste like you when you were mine
our effervescent youth now lay in ruins.
The share of us displaces taunts
my serendipity has died
you’re all that’s left…you’re all that’s left…and you’re always all that’s right.

A beauty that causes awe, that's your aim,
And a defence, this strategy called "it's all the same";
But there are cells for the marrow and cells for the brain,
And to call them similar seems rather quite insane.

Cause it takes mind to understand patience,
It takes defeat to finally accept the loss;
For only when all is lost, all can be regained;
That's the price to pay to understand the cost.

　　And if I didn't have that pill to swallow,
　　I'd call it bang for the money first thing tomorrow.

Around they gravitate like you're a shining star,
To take part and implode and beg a mighty roar;
It's a science for the desperate — no it ain't no art;
A beauty for the primates more than a beauty of the heart.

They slide down the usual paths of expansion
While we swim against pale currents of fog;
With my renounce I won't pay this ecstasy a call,
I won't beg a mighty roar, no I won't beg no more.

　　But if I didn't have that pill to swallow,
　　I'd call it bang for the money first thing tomorrow.

Now twice-spoken idioms might ring a bell or two
Like missed phone calls in the middle of the afternoon
I've gone out of my way to move out of the road
But I know that your fake beauty's just waiting to unfold

It's too easy to cast the blame, too easy to throw a bone
I've seen lightning bolts fall, I know who's on the phone
The dogs always bark along when they hear the thunders roar
It shouts across a sea of life, it's calling from afar.

　　And if I didn't have that pill to swallow,
　　I'd call it bang for the money first thing tomorrow.

Me without you is incomplete, like the tide without its moon.
My thoughts gravitate to you, through every sunrise and sunset.
I dream of you, of what isn't there, like a fading hallucination.
I go through all the memories, from when you loved me to when you left me.
Did you ever feel how you said you did?

I still feel you in my weakened heart, only just beating.
Your letters read the extensive time that has passed within its weathering ink.
I used to see you every day, now I haven't seen your face for a year.
Your whispers of love and promise reach my ear as an empty echo.
Do you still think about me?

I can feel the pain of your goodbye, diminishing my hope and reason.
I'm scared to hold onto you forever, but scared to let you go for good.
Without you is an unimaginable craving for love,
I'm just trying to care for what you chose to leave behind.
How are you?

I miss you. I miss you like the stars miss the night.
It's as though you had died and left me behind.
Love will never be the same, I gave you my all.
Without you I am alone, broken and drifting along.

Space and time is one and the same
Einstein sure knew the game
It's not gravitate, but space that pushes you down
In time everything comes around
The space bending time
Holds your feet to the grind
The faster you go, the younger you stay
If you haven't noticed it's always been that way

knitted on a dodgy bobble hat
or a favourite chunky jumper
from scandanavia, or yorkshire

untasteful but definitely practical..
smelly and friendly like a wet dog
pliable like warm playdoh...

patulioi oil
will always remind me of you...
'a hippy place in my heart...'
like a beachnut,
no, a beach hut
shelves littered with the flotsam of our throwaway society,
flip flop corner...

19:10
some random hermit crab making his escape from
the dripping bundle of just found fishing net
down through the crack in the floor...
into the sand
and back to the sea.
the moths and midges gravitate towards the fossils and rock shelf
because that's where the gaslamp gently hisses.

suncracked and faded
pieces of
70's buckets and spades flicker in the corner
between the scraps of rope
and the deflated inflatables
and the bottlecap damian hurst
next to sea purse corner,
biological tendrils contrasting the ever stoic rubber ducks
who escaped from the pacific gyre...

panning around, the smartphone registers,
the garish tatty windbreak
and the 90's ghettoblaster
which still has some juice left from those batteries
we bought at the gift shop...
last year...
for our imaginary beach hut....
in the outer hebrides...?

you take the camping gaz from the cupboard
and put the kettle on...
the beach is desert island white
the sea azure like a gaudy 70's postcard
the wind tugging relentless through our hair.
but the pub is warm and friendly
where grizzled fishermen philosophise
hardily. by the fire.
between warming shots of smokey single malt.

Why can't I disrespect her situation and utilize manipulation!!!? 
****!!! 
(Agitation) 
How can I make her lacerate
Leaving him to ******* 
While her and I gravitate
(Aggravation) 
Am I wrong for trying to captivate? 
To cause a tragedy 
So that I can place her in my cavity 
Count on their delinquency 
So that I can hit the jackpot like treasury 
I must put a result to their destiny 
When I see their pictures 
My jaws quiver 
She needs to be hither 
I'm thinking I should be sly 
And slither 
Or should I be blatant and invite her to dinner?
Right in the face of her mister 

Excuse me ma'am 
Have you ever seen otters afloat the waters? 
When I see it in my studies 
I always get cuddly
I have a California king with only blankets to cover me 
I have no buddy 
I have friends 
But no ones lovely 
Can we hover the lake 
Holding hands so that we won't 
Drift away 
You will be cute as the otters 
I don't know why would I even bother 
No groom; I'm all scruffy 
I look ok alone
But you gone make me look ugly 

Or 

Come here 
Hug me 
Is this your hubby? 
That's why his shoulders is shrugging?
And his face is mugging?
He know if you escape his disgrace and come to my cubby 
He'll be in the hole 
Ain't that right man? (Directed to him)
What's your name? 
Stan? 
Hey how are you doing Stanley 
I'm digging your girl like my last name is Yelnats 
And I'm trying not to disrespect 
But it's testing 
You have the great big book of everything 
And a queen who can be on the cover of King because she's **** 
But look at you 
How'd you do it? 
Here you go take my number down and dial whenever he's around so he can know where you're about to go 
See you later 
Which approach is better? 

I like both 
Should I be smooth or rude? 
I have to make up my mind soon so that I can make my move

he lifted my shirt as his cool touch buried me beneath a lover
a lover, i must gravitate towards serenity and sensual acts
acts, messy yet innocent; reeling me in for more
more, i want more, i crave what i bound to give
i give him, something for no returns
impossibilities have peaked, clean and unforgiving.

There is something about you that scares me, yet is exciting.
Something that tells me to stay away, yet here I am, unable to resist.
It is the uncertainty of you that pulls me in.  
This wanting to be a part of your world, your unsafe world.
Danger calls me, she calls me through you.
I gravitate towards her.
You are a dangerous woman.
A woman who can control my mind and heart.
A woman who, without touch, has already had a stronger hold on me unlike any other I have ever encountered.
With merely a glance, I am entranced.
You simply breathe near my atmosphere , I fall on my knees, begging for more.
Then, you walk away.
Then, I am empty.
Am I angered by your actions?
No! Instead, I obsess over what I may have possibly done wrong to have lost you.
You could never do wrong in my eyes.

Lights! camera! action!
Pretending that events are accidents
Appointed laughter
Framed gatherings
Steady buffing
Drawing
Smearing
Lathering
Turn your face into a masterpiece
And your fashion into a catastrophe
Then your catastrophe into outcasting
Take away normalcy then preach you blasphemy
Then wonder "why are they after me"
X then dotted line just says "that you're mine"
It says "sign neatly" and "read briefly"
And now that he's gone...your the repeat
And if you leave...they gotta 3 peat
*** will get you a check
And if you thirsty for a disbursement... Burp out controversy
And swallow grade A *******
You'll get applauded for being a first class fool
Who didn't graduate
But there's still fans who gravitate
While your old class mates are still someone else's class mates
The former students now have degrees
The ones you call to design your foreign furnished mansion
The ones sold you that million dollar car
The ones you pay to fly your private jet
The ones you pay to manage your career
The ones who indict you for your drug possession
The ones who over the counter prescribing you your addiction
The ones who will do the incision to try and maintain your drunk liver
Miss and mister
They demand their respect
Surviving grueling semesters
The newly alumnus
Will retire after they make a difference
A difference for our children
And by the time that your contract has ended all you talked about is killing
Rims spinning
Money getting
Blunt twisting
Liquor sickening
Girls stripping
Discharge sipping
Jewelry glistening
Superstition
Stomach itching
Teeth missing
Thread stitching
Eye twitching
Thirst quenching
I don't get it
Albums full of insignificance
...
But your not trippin'
Because you won't fall as long as you don't walk when your boss tell you to crawl
If you rock shows
Wear clothes that you never chose
If you pose to live a life that's another man's role
You'll soon believe that you're not from this globe
And you'll soon speak how satan stole your soul
Everything you value is so extraneous
And for that you're famous?

So it's only one recipe
If you wanna be a celebrity you must lose your integrity

recycling trouble from the past in hopes you'll make time go fast for your slow hourglass
shake the sand, gravitate towards the new plan

pave the ground, it won't be so bumpy now

we tossed the nails to the side, just don't forget the part where you drive
a rock or two will make you swerve, but ruthless words will be there to serve
gas is ready, handy and steady waiting to be levied
the price goes up but our strive runs slow

3 am and my head's still pounding, I've had this migraine for days…Temples throbbing, nerve endings exploding, like a rabid animal being sentenced to a barb wire cage with no food to eat and room to breathe. Thoughts are deadly. Fighting, bleeding, suffering in deep rooted pits of anxiety. My synapses are in full combat, but I'm a pacifist.

I can feel it now. The change, the shift. I feel it. The voices, drumming, I can hear it, the fire, it's burning, flesh rotting. I can smell it, Like it's all being cooked up in one big  rotten stew, except there is most definitely meat in it, and I'm a vegetarian.

I am a child of darkness sworn to her own demons that were locked up long ago in treasure chest deep inside her old bedroom closet, Although I swear to you I never wanted things to be this way. It just happened. But know this, I am still holy, still pure, my tears still fall as transparent across the curve of my cherub face. I never wished to be so naïve. It's just that my heart is in shambles, and I gravitate towards almost anything that promises healing. This is why I have so many scars. They run left and right in a funny pattern from the carelessness of others trampling their ***** feet all over the delicate terrain of my heart.

But I'm tired now
And my insides are in knots.

I can still feel it. The light, I see it. It's always been there and shining, always been calling, begging, reaching out for one swift touch to the tip of my finger, but I've been too afraid to answer. It's always been so warm and inviting calling my name. I can taste it…bitter spoilers. I'm almost there. I've just a few things left to do here. Just give me a moment.


please

a rose?
well that is something that i am not.
i am not admired by many
and adored by even more.
people do not gravitate towards me
because of my cliche aspect of beauty.
one does not view me as one of the most
d i v e r s e
signs of
beauty
love
or even grace.
both striking and beautiful,
she has many thorns and ******
that can cut you
and make you bleed.

me?
instead of all that,
i am a leaf.
ordinary, that i am.
and very much overlooked.
often ignored and underestimated.
your eyes do not adhere to my exclusive version
of beauty.
i can't hurt you,
or at least not as much.
i am not made up of thorns
that could easily nip you
and your fragile skin.
and even tho she,
rose,
has many ****** and thorns
that has ample enough chances to cut you,
you still choose it over me.

I can't dream if it's from this closet
Every thing I want to do just sounds so ******* pompous
I talk about what I want to do and everybody thinks I've lost it
I'm on the radar, but I'm the darkest blip
Walking the plank on purpose, S.S. *******, I'm off this ship

I feel like I've finally got it, and of course then I've lost it
I write a masterpiece, "hey where's the follow up?"
Like me and my girl jinxin the future with a prenup
'Oh you know we just trying to be safe,' right *****, let's marry up this **** then
You can take it all just split them assets
Get me bent with no price or rent

See I ain't tryna get around just tryna win this
Can't seem to get to the top when I'm the only one in the bracket
Try to be a team player, but my teams full of *******
I'm Harry Potter *****, imma smash that *** like quidditch
I gonna hit that pinata, till the cash flow get me riches

I talk ***** but I miss the way you talk
British, you a fit birdy, girl
I eat my grits, but I ain't really eating till after we're flirty, girl

Take you to the back room, pour some wine and then some feelings, watch some mad men and tell you bout my last girl
I said I like the way you talk to me but I think I just like how I can talk to you
You're an outlet, and I'm plugging, your sticking around, but you should know I'm just thuggin
And maybe I just say the ***** things I say to mask my potential under promiscuity cause I got a real problem promising myself I'll solve my problems too
(I'd never admit it though)

See that's just something me and my crew do
I guess it masks all the little ***** blues 'fake cries'
During this poem I think I grew three inches for you  
In my heart
See it's so easy to gravitate to you like your the sun and I'm Mercury, I'm too close and you're burning me alive, but I can't pull myself apart, girl it'll never work
We can't stop Miley, that's melancholy for sure (but keep the twerk)

You make me feel like Frank Sinatra, and I can't even sing
So **** confident, you let me discover myself, I'm deep, I can feel, I'm Mike Tyson, Kung Pao chicken, I bring it all to the ring
All these little kids on the streets learning how to *** from me 'like fricken'
The thought of you got me sick to the stomach, it's sticking
..
Too bad you're just a ******* fling

Sometimes I feel like I am walking the length of a tightrope while you hold all the strings
Normally I would gravitate toward your end because of it being familiar
but I also want to just let go and see what the unknown below brings

It seems I have been underestimated since day one
yes I am small
yes I do cry pretty easily ~ it's genetic
yes I am naive...mostly about seeing the good in people when it is not there
but I also have a core strength inside me that is unrelenting in times of despair

So letting go of that tightrope does not have to be the end
Closing the door to some ...just opens the door for new beginnings to receive
Happier ones too.... it does seem

They say I am high off life,
But I never seem to levitate,
I don’t do drugs still,
Instead I meditate…..

Then I put this
pen to this paper
And I gravitate,
No rehab for me
this lyrical therapy
seems to medicate…

My best friend is amazing. The way she lights up a room. With her voice that sounds like soft rain through your window when she's tired. With her eyes that sometimes look like whiskey; that sometimes look like the kind of moss you find on trees in the middle of the forest in Oregon. Her iris, always hiding the stars. Like if you look deep enough you could see the end of space; galaxy upon galaxy. She has a smile that I swear is the sun. It lights up every part of my life. I gravitate towards it; like a bug to a front porch light. Constantly buzzing, hovering. Constantly feeling the need to protect. Literally feeling my shoulders tense up if there's even the slightest chance of harm.

She's such a beautiful individual. You know the feeling you get when you travel to a new place and see things you've never seen before? It's like I spend all my time exploring the eighth wonder of the world. And I'm one of the only people who get a chance to see. I've taken in more than a million sunsets on a million different beaches in the all the corners of the earth. I've seen more than a thousand monuments; more than a thousand picture perfect places. Felt all of their wonder. But you know when you come home from a long trip, and your car finally reaches the driveway and you see your front door and put your stuff down in your room and lie on your bed and just feel a sense of home and comfort? Well she's like that too. She's my home, my shelter. The person I always go to when I am feeling down, even if she doesn't know it and we just watch movies on the couch all day. She's the person I text when the depression hits me and I want to take a razor to my wrist. She's my home.

My best friend. The most amazing person I've ever known, or ever will know. I have made thousands of memories, and can't wait to make thousands more. Everything that I do has a piece of her in it. And I just feel so honored to have been able to be part of her life. And hope I've been half the friend that she has been to me.

I get these headaches that start right behind the middle of my eyebrow, swoops down into my nose and then swings up and pings off my forehead.

They call them “sinus headaches.”

The word sinus in italian means canals. And when I think of that, I can’t help but think of little gondolas with Italian men singing to me as I look at the stars. It doesn’t make the headache go away but it really makes me wish I were in Italy.

It’s funny how when things get rough, we instantly gravitate towards escaping to foreign lands. A headache certainly isn’t the roughest it could be, that’s for sure.

But escape…that’s a double-edged sword. Escape isn’t what it promises. While the idea of sipping pina coladas poolside, or meditating in a forest far away may seem like perfect, what does that really resolve? It means that whatever made you leave is still waiting for a resolution. Even worse, it probably grew in size. Bills become bills plus interest and late fees. Arguments turn from “how dare you say that?” to “how dare you leave after saying that?” When you leave, you leave behind a mess with the assumption that others will take care of you, but instead, frustrations rise and you break ties.

Whenever I get sick or nauseous, I immediately start thinking of my own personal Nirvana. I visualize the image of myself in this beautiful place relaxing and breathing in that maple tree air and hearing the river waves around me.

That’s nice, right? And that’s ok. I think we’re all allowed our mental escapes once in awhile.

But actual physical escapes? Those hurt others. And no amount of river wave will fix that.

a million constellations
form from the imperfections
in your smile
as they glimmer
and gravitate toward
the moon's gleaming grin

galaxies quake and shake
as the seams of skies break
now your smile's reflection
gets trapped in the lake
and everything
is perfect

forests are sweeping
over our limbs
as we fall from the
top of the world
laughing the entire way
until our bones break
and the blood we
spill creates
a pool
that can
once
again
reflect
the
things
we
know
*and
love