bottle the ocean.
it looks clear.

imprision the sky.
air disappears.

blue is a made-up pigment. a
figment of our imagination. a
fabricated. hallucination.

not fire. nor air. not dirt.
i searched. the plants. and water.
not Homeric poetry. not anywhere.

just the hollow bodies.
of mass sandwiching us.
a mellow glare. trans-
lucent. see-through. clear.

the ocean’s depths. ***** charcoal.
yucatan peninsula water falls. o’er
my own genuine blue eyes as
the myan ruins reveal my lie.

forgetting this blue collar
mess with ripped terminology.
denim turned to jeans
post war. 1950s.

blue is not real.
(eye) see right through (them)
in water’s reflection.
pinch me.

so i may know
that i’m
not

empty.

Please take back these shackles
I dont care if you lost the key
You restrained my freedom
because you believed it's easier
to deny than to let be

If you had seen me for me
how different our lives had become
Instead of hiding from what is
we would had valued what we are

You cannot imprison the heart for the crime of loving
you cannot imprison the mind for the crime of thinking
you cannot imprision the spirit for the crime of living

Please take back these shackles because
we are meant to be free not imprisioned in shame
We are meant to love not hindered by fear
We are meant to be not cast into the abyss
Because we are not nothing, we are something
and that something is the reason that we live