Sentenced to the hygienist, because I got that Indian virus.
Wish I was more like Leonidas, for my warrior self was vanquished.
Got a sense of anguish, as I don’t even know my own people’s Language.
Why did I get banished from my own land, and these immigrants now hold thee advantage?
Feels like they on a witch hunt, ain’t life a ***** huh?  
Can’t even make a quick buck, because I’m seen as a stupid ****.
Feel like a sitting duck with the ****** locked, **** is this the feeling of a cuck?
Stories always end up sad but Afterall I’m just the ******* of the brady bunch!
Brown skin cursed kin and a desperate sin so I gotta eat outta garbage’s for lunch.
Trying not to use victimization as a crutch,
but it’s like I’m a kid who got tricked into a game of double Dutch.
Crazy braided brain, deranged rabid rabbit spewing train going down a road of pain.
Come on yawl don’t you want to see the freak from cirque de soleil?
Trying in vain to wash away my shame, but the colour of my skin just won’t go away, oh what a shame!
So, I’m left crying and thinking about dying, hoping to be anything…
that may stray away from my family name.
For I’ve realized that I’m stigmatized by the whitened eyes:
that be educating lies of me being the one to blame.

No more will I be ok with this forced recital!
No more will I sit idle!
No more patriarchy, and **** the curse of ham nonsense used to justify you being spiteful!
**** your racist sentiments man, my colour doesn’t make me homicidal.

Brown clown, Down syndrome gnome!
Torn men, torn women left in prison zones!
Burn them, **** them, **** them right in they home!
Don’t frown, don’t make a sound, just stay on the ground.
Hands behind heads, then shot with lead, like a dog from the pound!
Lost and never found, but this just the curse of being brown!
What’s this now?
Nothing but wards of the crown.
Just a *****, just a glitch, that live in some crack towns!
Or reserves doesn’t matter what the word
Or what the place is when one puts on war paint on top of their savage faces.
Here’s the thing *****, I’m not scared of staring ya down #okacrisis!
For as see it colonists are no different than isis.
I know we deal with vices,
But it’s just the effects of dealing with your hepatitis!
And I just might be bias,
But at least I’m not a delusional racist!
It doesn’t matter if it’s Past, present or future violence,
I think it’s about time to end the silence!

A VISIT TO THE DENTIST

The Green Mile to
The Chair
The snap of hygienist’s latex gloves, then
Scraping, scritching, spitting blood

“Only one” gaping hole
no matter how much chocolate I eschewed
in favor of chewing Trident
(I’m *******)

The Dentist
My personal Olivier, and I, his Dustin.
Needle.  Lets it set in.
The drill, the smile of the sadist
squealing torture, my mouth on the rack
I CAN FEEL PAIN
but it comes out, “owiusmmorsoss”
(“ow, I want some more shots!”)

Another shot.
I press on:  “LA.  The 70s.  I did more than this for fun.”
Reluctantly, another shot.  And another.

As the drill grinds and keens
I pull out my secret weapon – how could I forget?
This is why God
invented the IPod

my mother was a dental hygienist and dad thinks he's an architect
which means i'm used to sharpened stainless steel exploring the interior of my jawbone and lying to my father to let him keep believing he built me from the ground up.

You're peering out for Sunshine
a cascade like yellow Dust falls.
The cavities will fill in time, enough for a Stadium.
The Pro-biotic yoghurt in your Duffel bag
is no longer ship shape,
a green mould from somewhere else is seeping.
I swear something has to give.
Your only defence a Swiss Army knife,
somehow  speckless from your childhood draw.
Later the Night sky begins to crackle
like you knew before.
Your only thought Mary
the local dental hygienist you fell in love for.

As boredom swallows each of my parts whole,

with every one goes a slice of joyful time.

To me will come a trepidation bowl,

which transforms into soreness I rhyme.

This poem seems to relish misery

that I do not appreciate greatly.

It drills and grinds away at patience’s teeth

alike an overpaid dentist stately.

The unskilled hygienist throws up her tools,

because the very poem is persistent

like a tenacious patient with strict rules

to whom floss is extremely resistant.

This sonnet, while providing me with grief,

becomes a fight of pain, with no relief.

so i’m now 24 yrs old
most of my life consists of work, but i’ve been calling in more ever since July 4th of last year, when i had a miscarriage. that experience changed me in a lot of ways, and unfortunately caused me to call in or take off a day. i’ve never been like that, i’ve always been very reliable, never called in. idk i guess the miscarriage made me mature more in a way. i don’t feel completely the same. but i’ve already committed to never being late (always early) to work, and not calling in for the rest of the year. so there should be no other issue there. but i feel like maybe i should get some sort of degree in a field there will always be a job. maybe become certified in my current occupation. or start over with something like becoming a dental hygienist, or embalming or pet training or maybe something simple like a barista haha..idk what to do.
but i guess the main goal now is to get into shape for the beach in july, i’m soooo excited/nervous. the only time i’ve been to the beach and have seen the ocean was when i was suuuuper young like 5 yrs old, maybe. so i hardly remember it, so this is the first time i’ll visit the ocean in my adult life, um yes. excited. it’s a superficial goal to get beach body ready, but i’ll look good which will make me feel confident to just forcus on socializing and relaxing. beach stuff, i guess? yes :) also i need to make appointments for my jaw (TMJ) bone loss, deviated septum, and restricted airway, and a dental appointment, and a knee specialist. i desperately need a hair cut, but i also want to dye it. i’m seriously thinking ashy light silvery gray. idk if that’ll look good but that’s what i’m thinking!! except i wouldn’t be surprised if i default to black or red out of stress in trying the unknown. i also want layers in my hair, or long side bangs. i want to get all of my family members presents this year. i want to get in a mf hot tub at some point. i want to rock climb. i want my eyebrows microbladed and possibly some freckles..... and eyelash extensions. i want to finally read those threee books i have. i want to finish this letter about mormonism. i want to completely stop self harming. or at least go longer than 6 months without it. i want to possibly do boxing, it would be very good for me.
so those are my own personal goals, and i could get it all done soooo quick but my anxiety really gets in the way. i just don’t like going outside and people looking at me. it’s lame and stress-inducing. idk i just want to find out what’s going on with my body, it hurts all over especially my face from my jaw.
there has been a slight shift in how i perceive this world and my life. i’m pretty much banking on reincarnation because i fuuuuucked up a lot already.

in my past self are crumpled papers
and in the present they are resolved
folded into little triangles,
and boats that sail down
the ferry lines of my veins

amongst the static world
i remain free and untethered
amongst my past
i remain liberated
amongst my present
i am fine: this is an ode
to my well being
and the numerous
conversations i had
with my dental hygienist,
(as practice for the real thing)
and the adjustments i made
towards a better future

i have been floating, suspended, for a long time
and now i soar towards the skies
pelicans holding each string
to prevent me from slipping

the wicker chair i support
has enough space for hearts
and futures, and successes
and emotions

my own chest is
whole and healed, a chamber
for which something beautiful can take place;
i am fine. in this world
which is dynamic and elusive,
i am fine, and i have the power to always be fine.