Spinal column
a stairwell of books,
rungs of untouched vertebrae
avoided by the bibliophile herself

[myself].

Brain is wired differently
than the rest of them.

At first,
I thought it was a matter of being
****-retentive.
A veteran perfectionist
who strives to imagine every detail
as intricately and accurately
as the author must have intended.

Character's faces morph into
sloppy, patchwork collages,
features copied and pasted from
beautiful strangers and
celebrities who played
in the movie adaptations.

Their appearances are both
cliche
and
incomprehensible.

I am told a character is pale,
but can only manage to visualize a complexion
the colour of notebook paper,
penetrating blue eyes mere apparitions
against a wintry terrain--
her ears
nose
lips
misplaced beneath the tundra.

I lay the book atop my collarbone,
its cover pitched into a make-shift tent.

(Cautiously).

Almost as if I am
afraid to disturb
the seriffed constellations
that flicker above my heart.

I stare up at the ceiling
(vacant, as am I),
my eyebrows scrunched
into nooses of concentration,
several minutes passing before
her cheeks gradually begin to thaw,
warming over in an ombre
of pinks and olives.

And I rejoice!

Strike down the tent,
pupils hungry for prose.

But there is always
another character.

In Valley of the Dolls,
a handsome man,
whose hairline I cannot
properly envision

(this makes him less handsome).

This time,
when I lay my book down,
I do not proceed with caution,
the corners of its pages
dog-earing against my body.

Google:

men's hairstyles, 1940's

(I need to commit to memory
three different styles
so the three different males
I am working with
are not trite clones of each other).

I can only manage three pages
at a time
before having to take a break.

Three pages for me
is strenuous,
as I pause to formulate
images befitting Jaqueline Susanne's
creative vision;
as I look up every word
I don't know the meaning of
in the dictionary;
as I repeatedly deliberate
the same passage
because of my incapability
to thoroughly process the text

Three pages for me
is strenuous,
as I pause to formulate
images befitting Jaqueline Susanne's
creative vision;
as I look up every word
I don't know the meaning of
in the dictionary;
as I repeatedly deliberate
the same passage
because of my incapability
to thoroughly process the text

Three pages for me
is strenuous,
as I pause to formulate
images befitting Jaqueline Susanne's
creative vision;
as I look up every word
I don't know the meaning of
in the dictionary;
as I repeatedly deliberate
the same passage
because of my incapability
to thoroughly process the text

Three pages for me
is strenuous,
as I pause to formulate
images befitting Jaqueline Susanne's
creative vision;
as I look up every word
I don't know the meaning of
in the dictionary;
as I repeatedly deliberate
the same passage
because of my incapability
to thoroughly process the text

Three pages for me
is strenuous,
as I pause to formulate
images befitting Jaqueline Susanne's
creative vision;
as I look up every word
I don't know the meaning of
in the dictionary;
as I repeatedly deliberate
the same passage
because of my incapability
to thoroughly process the text

Three pages for me
is an exponential task,
as I pause to formulate
images befitting
Jaqueline Susanne's vision;
as I look up every word
I don't know the meaning of
in the dictionary;
as I repeatedly deliberate
the same passage
because of my incapability
to thoroughly process the text

Three pages for me
is strenuous,
as I pause to formulate
images befitting Jaqueline Susanne's
creative vision;
as I look up every word
I don't know the meaning of
in the dictionary;
as I repeatedly deliberate
the same passage
because of my incapability
to thoroughly process the text

Three pages for me
is strenuous,
as I pause to formulate
images befitting Jaqueline Susanne's
creative vision;
as I look up every word
I don't know the meaning of
in the dictionary;
as I repeatedly deliberate
the same passage
because of my incapability
to thoroughly process the text

Three pages for me
is strenuous,
as I pause to formulate
images befitting Jaqueline Susanne's
creative vision;
as I look up every word
I don't know the meaning of
in the dictionary;
as I repeatedly deliberate
the same passage
because of my incapability
to thoroughly process the text

on the first
(second...
third...
I don't know...)

try.

Turns out
this is more than just
being ****-retentive.

This is Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.

I yearn for times of old
junior high
when I could finish a novel
in a day--
ramona and beezus
butterfly lion
the silver donkey.

But even then,
the obsessions were there,
one substituted for another:

the ceaseless gushing
of the soap pump
and dizzying rotation
of the faucet taps.

Could barely hold literature
between my palms
without aggravating
the rosettes of eczema
that had sprout
along my hands,
scoured clean and raw.

Eventually,
I outgrew these harrowing baptisms.

Am still waiting to outgrow
the laborious nature of my readings.

My only antidote poetry,
for it heals me in
every way
fiction could not
[cannot].

The poems do not trouble me,
do not burden me
with overwhelming arrangements
of ink and letters.

Instead,
I confront the English language
line by line,
sedated by the simple
fragmentation
of each stanza.

Because even when fragmented,
these stanzas offer up to me
the written word
like it is ambrosia
when I am starving
for intellect
but cannot feast.

I am spoon-fed words
until I am full--
am reminded that
I am not the stupid girl
I believe I am,
courtesy of my
obsessive, compulsive short circuits.

I do not relate to the cohesion of prose,
cannot deny the brilliant likeness
that exists between the reader
and her enjambment--
both fractured mosaics of metaphor.

I am
as broken
as these verses.

But

it is only as
I shatter
that I am freed.

The way you spoke felt the way hot sand felt between my toes, a kind of painful pleasure that eventually made me run back to the ocean to cool off. You remind me of the ocean too, although not the ones seen in holiday brochures. More like the angry part of the ocean I saw in Spain years ago, rising high and mighty above me, putting me in my place. It even knocked me down, just like you did.

I don't regret knowing you, I just regret loving you. I regret surrounding myself with you and your incapability to love anything other than yourself, your incapability to care about anything that didn't directly involve you. How sad, how unfair that I am left here to drown in self-loathing and you are still out there, still happy, still care-free, still clueless about what you did to me.

I miss something particular about you; not your hands, not your lips, not anything near your skin. I miss the little neurotic pieces of your mind and the way you said my name that night. Most of all, I miss just having someone to talk to. How stupid of me to convince myself you are all I need, only to have you leave like everybody else. It's frightening that even though I am surrounded by people, you're the only person that really exists to me, the only person that made me realise I'm not alone. And God, I am so lonely.

I'm leaving. I'm scattering my soul to the wind in the hope I'll find myself someday. Try to love yourself and next time, fall in love with someone who looks at you as though he can see your soul more than he can see your skin. Stop looking for reasons to die and start searching for reasons to live. You are worth more than what you settle for. You are not alone.

Never judge a book by its cover - they say.
Never believe a man's word over his actions - they say.
Never trust without reason - they say.

Why not? - I say.

Humanity (as a virtue) is being crippled by humans as they
stride
past the crippled man, hunched-back and desperate to extend,
to stand up,
to reach out
for that can of coffee at the grocery store.

As they violate, debilitate and penetrate our
minds by starving
us of
education
and
taunt
us
with
grant
money.

As they reduce our
complexity and significance and capabilities
to
stats
charts
numbers
lines
dots
.

As they stand, staring
up
eleven floors
at a flailing, failing student ready to
jump.

As they stereotype us
into boxes
that we use to hold our belongings -
our interior design.

As they spend more
money in one day
than they
pay
the gardener over
a week.

As they scoff down ketchuped french fries
after saying they were
starving
whilst they edge
forward
at the
robot
to
ignore
hungry begging children.

As they complain about being
alone
when the others around them are also
human.

That's just it.
The 'they' that we always speak of,
'They'
are us.

Unsheltered, not oblivious -
we see the misery, suffering,
pathetic pain -
but we are ignorant of the
barefoot woman with
a load
on her head and
a life
on her back,
asking for a
lift.

Some of us see the strain
but convince ourselves that our efforts would be
insignificant,
assure ourselves that it is
hopeless,
we are helpless.

Science and religion
seem like parallel lines but
they
converge on the point that
Mankind
is a superior species.
'Made in his image.'
'Increased cranial capacity, developed the ability to reason.'
Yet we use that magnificence to justify our
INcapability?

Advanced beings in an age of connectivity and
so disconnected from the essence of our own kind.
We decide
to be
alone.

There are rainbows of
'umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu'
but Ubuntu becomes
'don't want to'
and apathy is what makes us insignificant
- indifferent and inhumane.

To those who
can read this,
we
are hypocrites
- together -
which means that we are never alone and thus we are made
able.
We are not helpless, we just
Help Less.

I refuse to hope less in humanity
and allow us to be coaxed into an inferiority-complex
when we can have
progress and
success but

Only after we have
oneness.

watch you, whisper to you

i want to touch your body
every inch of your flesh should be categorized in to a file cabinet
to be ordered by sensation and  rhythm

a *****, sweaty affair of taking inventory of the defense of the other team
"what hurts them" "what helps them" "what makes them giggle" "what makes them moan"
i know what it takes to make them moan

its a war out here and every is invited,
to the war of the lost, stepped on, and rejected
against the rainbows, puppies, and ******

i want feel your sculpted dancing legs
i want to lick the death off her skin
carcass her imperfectly perfect body

******* the subject is a delicate process
first, the physical clothes,
then, the emotional barriers
finally, the mental incapability

at the end, you are presented with the most pure human form
a fully **** model of your great white buffalo.

for me....  it the one that got away, she sings in the shower

You never have to be a flower again
or play those kettle drums, Sheba
bygone from sleeves, dalliances worn.

The idealisation of the far-fetched reality ,
Doesn't make it right.
The happiness coming from someone else's pain,
Doesn't make you thrive.
The insensebility of taking wrong decisions,
Doesn't make you look cute, just cruel and naive.
The passing on of the confusion,
Shows your incapability of commitment or in general Life.
The repetitiveness of a command,
Doesn't make people oblige.
It's a simple game...
A game of what's wrong and what's right!.
Of seeing things you ignored ,
Being a self-centred blind.
It's an opportunity to open yourself up,
For the things you've done to others,
and putting yourself in their shoes...
And.....REALISE.

Our hands and mouths are like boats, they flip about in the turmoil of the sea's final storm.
so indecisive
knowledge is key; key is bankruptcy.
only if you have the key...
can you antelope, I can elephant,  in the tetris island.
YOU FOOL. of course not. try again.
The beeper is left cold.
Only because you have to answer. you could change this you know. there are other possibilities.
like what? ranger ice?? I don't think so.
haha
no I laugh at your incapability of answering this question which is ,oh, so simple.
I'll give you one more chance
Glen.
One more chance.

Lights dimmed
Red soft lights
Baroque colors everywhere
Like sipping wine in a coffin

Sweet, free, dead.

Like blood pouring out the vains
And it pains but there's no pain

A soft image of you.  Dark ...Slim ..
Distant.

Constantly there
In my head
Constantly out of reach
In my life

And if I can take in this *******, I would.
and if I can make it better, I would.
And if you're disappointed then let it be.  
Cause I made it be .

The rules and regulations put on me.
Renting a few moments of life, and a moment of you is what I need.
A moment I would pay morals for, disappointment for, guilt for.

Work, snakes, frienemies, money *****, white collar slavery, broken family, unwanted love, incapability, mistakes, lost.

But the image of you feels sweet.
A sweet maroon glass of wine
Divine
Mine ...
I wish

My professor tells me-
"You have to be a strong individual."
I arm myself, I fight my demons,
I strive for the dignity and worth of individuals,
I can stand strong
Because I draw my strength from you.

Weighed down by social realities and unjust inequities,
Angered at the politics of life,
I lie in anguish and sorrow
And in my sense of incapability and numbness,
I think of you.
You, who cries with me and makes me smile,
You raise me back to living
Because you believe in me.

When I choose to talk philosophy,
And struggle to articulate my confusions,
I can stand
Because I know you don't judge me.

I see a little girl, bathed in dirt,
Her only toy a stick picked from the gutter,
And I break a little inside
At what is, and what ought to be.
When I'll eventually be convinced to take up a role
In such games of power,
I know you will be there to keep me tied to sanity.

When I lose my faith in human goodness,
Eclipsed by the hunger of men and women,
You take my hand and make me believe
In the beauty of art, of language,
Of music that punctures the soul and soothes the hurt.
In a world that understands only violence and *******,
You show me friendship and compassion.

You could say it’s impossible to isolate oneself from the world.
You’re right.
But let not the whole annihilate the part,
Let not the universe overcome the soul.
When I begin to feel small and insignificant before the magnitude of life’s challenges and wonders,
You remind me of who I am.

We, who must share our lives with millions of others,
Let’s make our lives our own.
Why should the world bind us?
Why should life find us
Waiting for the world to change?
Let’s not sit through as the movie of our lives plays in the background.
With you by my side,
I can say loud and clear:
Come, let us stand strong together.

Often misinterpret feelings because no one has conversations. No exchanging of words
That's why we're on different pages
These things that I'm telling you are for your ears only. Understand that i am opening up, and my love is growing slowly.
We see that someone was attached and someone wasn't
And someone always hurts while the other lies that it doesn't.
A friendship ends and loving a person turns scary
Failed attempts make you cold and wonder if you'll ever marry.
People do you ***** and always wonder why. 4AM texts didn't mean anything and everything you said was a lie.
How'd I get so cold? Why do I push people away? Will I die alone when I'm old?
I ask myself these questions and I can't find an answer. Wondering when I'll find you and get rid of this cancer

This body is to narrow to start the concrete picturesque poetry

As a marvelous bright sparkling spring into the pitch black marvel stone
My poems are shallow water running out of time climbing backwards

Shanti dances, Shakti watches, I ride the glossy magenta mountain byke Elementally through the potentially ***** city, gulping two little
              flying                            spoons          ­            wwhhpp          mhm                                  ­    
                       of
Brilliant        IO Ag
                   Helth guarantieed on the nulth spelling positive not
Obtrusive politely declined           skipped          suggestive
Visually objective little pencil box down bellow
                                             friend    _ this is blank !

Absolutely! Absoulutely! A ****** stream of no perservatives no ***

Objecting flowery flunder opiates                           Words grow from
Barriers between insufficient gestures                  from human
Jazzy left ear leaving laments of sounds incapability to stay
Endlessly entwined and glued together as your soul loves
Tender tactile cats touch on your desperate desert sju++
                  Ave Gratias Plena Ava Gardner Avon Avion
  My throat is not of a managment made suits suiting suitcases
I'm Tired Of Fraternities Or True Females  Always  Ends  Well

From bright clear day to unimaginable dense growth you will be tested all shapes of unfamiliarity
Disfigure notions preconceived ideas the mind will be scraped raw but from this clawing beast new
Understanding will flourish from harsh aloneness to be led into the stark fearful wonder of discovery
Reduced from the volume and overt clutter steady has been the growth that chokes debris once
Considered just primary fallout that is normal occurrence when you are in the thick actions that must
Break down a certain amount of living matter at times our acts are wild and destructive old growth trees
Will have much cleared by the torrent of wind our own storms will act likewise we can only guess how
Long this build up has continued to grow much noise of crashing will occur at first confusion
Bewilderment but from these very emotions a quiet knowing emerges giving the mind a fresh
Healthy perspective that now has a clear and wide excess after the caring away of the strangling waste
That stood in heaps the hidden burden fell away now enlightened the focus is razor sharp the path that
Twisted and turned and left the heart disheartened now is robust it brings you into the presence of
Others that are without voice and understanding they are down cast defeated they bare the marks of
One who has lost his way though much searching gives evidence of one who has been pushed into
Poverty of soul the eyes tell the story hunger pressed to the degree where hopelessness rules the life
That has so much promise but it has been differed by hostility incapability to find the materials that
Afford access to the hidden riches that build men and women into dynamos that can’t be denied we are
Not faceless wonderers but a spectacle fired in the furnace of adversity that comes forth pure with
Innate power that enriches all that it comes in contact with the need of the hour in times like these we
Can little afford to be small minded on the level that we find ourselves we need to grow accustomed
To excelling we are not without resources we are endowed with gifts that will secure our communities
Give relief to the sorrowful be healers of affliction we are an army of many but we have been
Compromised we have spoken freely to our enemies reveled our weakness now they use these with
Ease to defeat the most powerful force on earth and that is we as a people are unconquerable that is
When we believe and apply ourselves to principles that are unshakable we must be the standard
Bearers of liberty and freedom to hand this to another is to bring defeat and shame no matter the
Reason we are to ascend by all out effort it commends us and guarantees victory

“I am for doing for the poor, but I differ in opinion of the means. I think the best way of doing good to the poor, is not making them easy in poverty, but leading or driving them out of it.
In my youth I traveled much, and I observed in different countries, that the more public provisions were made for the poor, the less they provided for themselves, and of course became poorer.
And, on the contrary, the less was done for them, the more they did for themselves, and became richer”
Benjamin Franklin  
This wisdom would bode well for the people and all the way to the White House





     

What makes you so sure your sickness need not be heavily medicated?
You walk around, your body hanging like your favourite outfit that you never wear anymore,
stumped in a box
The street lights breathe like the cigarette that you smoke at the end of the night and regret immediately after,
the cigarette that tastes like glue,
The pads of your feet blink to the floor,
Your soft eyes watch the people and their smiles, they once represented jealousy but now sail past you like leaves of boredom from nowhere,
You chew on an energy bar as the purple plants, bike riders, suit case carriers and fire hydrants stroll by,
You make fists to fit eye sockets, but your hands stay by their sides
waiting for the courage to find the change that promises never to come,
You sit on the bench and wait for somebody who might chemically excite you
Your mouth clamps shut and your food rots inside of you molding your breath,
The dog walkers follow their excuses not to be lonely
and you crave a machine to make you feel better,
no human will do,
And the cats purr against tree legs and look at you as though you are stupid,
You sit around your friends wanting more intoxication
anything but this elasticated dribble of saliva they call ‘the gang’
Because another ‘gang’ is just another situation where you can feel alone and misunderstood again,
another metaphor for your life and incapability to feel comfortable,
You bathe in quiet awkwardness that only you feel
and cry when no one looks or when no one decides to see,
And you wallow in the self pity that sleeps in beer cans and wine glasses
searching at the bottom of them for someone who can relate to your loneliness,
And everyone thinks they’ve got the answers but you do too and you think the answers are no good either,
You call out on roof tops in the loudest voice your thoughts can muster
And the teachers who get paid to care have given up too,
So you sit like an old book being read over and over again melting to resemble an instruction manuel or something equally repetitious,
And you wait for the time to pass,
and the people too,
You wait to be interested by something,
anything that will comfort you,
But you seek solace in the smell of dustbins, petrol, sea salt, beer froth and your hands in the shower,
And hope that they’ll all
come together
and somehow
let you know
it’s going to be okay.

From bright clear day to unimaginable dense growth you will be tested all shapes of unfamiliarity
Disfigure notions preconceived ideas the mind will be scraped raw but from this clawing beast new
Understanding will flourish from harsh aloneness to be led into the stark fearful wonder of discovery
Reduced from the volume and overt clutter steady has been the growth that chokes debris once
Considered just primary fallout that is normal occurrence when you are in the thick actions that must
Break down a certain amount of living matter at times our acts are wild and destructive old growth trees
Will have much cleared by the torrent of wind our own storms will act likewise we can only guess how
Long this build up has continued to grow much noise of crashing will occur at first confusion
Bewilderment but from these very emotions a quiet knowing emerges giving the mind a fresh
Healthy perspective that now has a clear and wide excess after the caring away of the strangling waste
That stood in heaps the hidden burden fell away now enlightened the focus is razor sharp the path that
Twisted and turned and left the heart disheartened now is robust it brings you into the presence of
Others that are without voice and understanding they are down cast defeated they bare the marks of
One who has lost his way though much searching gives evidence of one who has been pushed into
Poverty of soul the eyes tell the story hunger pressed to the degree where hopelessness rules the life
That has so much promise but it has been differed by hostility incapability to find the materials that
Afford access to the hidden riches that build men and women into dynamos that can’t be denied we are
Not faceless wonderers but a spectacle fired in the furnace of adversity that comes forth pure with
Innate power that enriches all that it comes in contact with the need of the hour in times like these we
Can little afford to be small minded on the level that we find ourselves we need to grow accustomed
To excelling we are not without resources we are endowed with gifts that will secure our communities
Give relief to the sorrowful be healers of affliction we are an army of many but we have been
Compromised we have spoken freely to our enemies reveled our weakness now they use these with
Ease to defeat the most powerful force on earth and that is we as a people are unconquerable that is
When we believe and apply ourselves to principles that are unshakable we must be the standard
Bearers of liberty and freedom to hand this to another is to bring defeat and shame no matter the
Reason we are to ascend by all out effort it commends us and guarantees victory

“I am for doing for the poor, but I differ in opinion of the means. I think the best way of doing good to the poor, is not making them easy in poverty, but leading or driving them out of it.
In my youth I traveled much, and I observed in different countries, that the more public provisions were made for the poor, the less they provided for themselves, and of course became poorer.
And, on the contrary, the less was done for them, the more they did for themselves, and became richer”
Benjamin Franklin  
This wisdom would bode well for the people and all the way to the White House

The breath in my chest
Scraped against my esophagus
As the preacher read his
Introductory scripture and a
Mourning loved one doubled over
In grief and despair as she
Struggled to bid adieu;

The hairs on the back of my neck
Stood horizontally and
Perpendicular to my concrete floor
As I heard the sweetest soul I know
Choke on her sobs on the
Other end of the receiver,
As she struggled to understand
The onset of pain and finality
She was forced to swallow;

My stomach hollowed and
Acidic anger bubbled and carved out my insides
When I read my best friend's texts,
A series of words
That seemed too cruel to be true,
A riffraff of  interrogatories and
Unsettled punctuation,
Summarizing the momentary suspension
Of her resiliency
As she processed the
Breaking of her heart;

And now I lay motionless
On my mattress,
Hot tears masquerading behind my
Tightened eyelids as I writhe in
Empathy,
Alone in my incapability
To end the pains and the woes of
Those around me,
As my body thus must then grieve
For me.

The mind is great for a lot of things
But there are a few things
Even the brightest of minds can’t handle.
One of which being empty space,
Which there seems to be a lot of
In my life.

It snowed that morning,
scarring the end of something
forgotten,
pitied lost repression,
buried with each shy snowflake.

Uncontested petals from the
formerly statuesque tress, fell,
sundered,
dancing their merry little
way to the vacant ground.

And a feather dropped from
an outcast swan, alone it
forlornly
surrendered to the frigid
incapability of the terra firma.

On that Saturday morning,
nothing could have fallen,
plummeted
as sporadically as I did,
for each of your rays.

My love for you is not a sunset
Nor the ink in your favorite novel.
My adoration for you is not the footprints along the shoreline.
The passion between us, will never fade.
I will embrace you until the end of time,
Eternally surrendering my love to you.

sometimes, it feels like the bath filling up with water,
you lie there and try to relax as it
slowly inches up your thighs and past your slumped shoulders.
or like watching the clock move, watching the day turn on and off-
incoherent, stunned, you try to drown your incapability in apathy
like being strapped to a bed
like being force fed, out of your control in a way that forces you to feel it.

sometimes, it feels like breaking your bones,
a sharp snap you can hear for years when you fall asleep
shooting pain up your spine and straight to your fight-or-flight response
it feels like choking,
it is not slipping in and out, it is violent crashing waves
the tide came in while your eyes were closed
and you're being thrown headfirst against the rocks

sometimes, it feels like keeping a secret,
like holding your tongue, like shy muffled smiles
and pulling misguided threads on your years-old sweaters.
it tastes just like guilt but also a little bit like copper,
almost familiar but with a difference that keeps you up drenched in sweat
it feels like "you did this to yourself" and all you can hear is "it is your fault"

it feels like nothing, sometimes, too.
it feels like emptiness, it feels like 'scared-to-be-touched'
it feels like absolutely hollow,
like knee-**** reactions when people put their hands on you
like your fight-or-flight lever is broken and you're trapped inside of a burning building with flight on your mind against painted-shut windows
it feels a whole lot
like they took the exact definition away from you that day
like you have a bunch of "almost"s
like a puzzle that has been worn through generations, sticky fingers and gluing together corner and middle pieces

it feels like something is missing,
it feels like you do a manual reset of every feeling to try and sew yourself back together,
it feels like someone bent your needle and frayed your thread and you are trying but they took all of your chances away from you

a little bit vague, inexplicable, 'you-had-to-be-there', like everything, like nothing,

like helpless, if you had to give it a title.

When Youth’s roots stem with dreams:
Infinite, as the shimmer of the night sky’s stars
Blossoming into megawatts of galaxies,
Megawatts of dreams ,
Carried deftly through lightly perfumed Youth -
Let’s chase them while we can.                                                            

Yet while dreams are carried on this tickling free-willed pollen,
A tiny spore of such fragility,
Even the faintest of wrong winds could
Lose it! Lose it!
Winds of despair;
Of not daring;
Of incapability;
Winds of constriction will change her course!  
With their vicious blast                                                                              
The beauty of dreams fades into that dense air;
That dense air filled with broken dreams,
Losing their journey of being carried,
Being carried across new continents,
Where the glories of dreams roam.

Yet! All it takes is the fiery force of
Unfaltering passion
To plant your tree of life from dreams into reality,
To mould worlds of your visions -
Let’s chase them while we can.

Like the journalists who lived to chase the truth and
And the historians who lived to chase the past -
Let’s chase them while we can.

serial killer love 3/1/17
you've never killed anyone but you did ****** my sense of being, my hope in security, and any trust i still had left.
you never touch dead human flesh, but you made my skin melt, my heart skip, and my lungs gasp for air.
you'd never admit to it, but everything you said held my heart and your silence ripped it out.

did it feel good? making me feel bad.
do my tears get you off?
does my incapability to move on keep you going?

you are a person, but also a ****** weapon.

so next time you rip a girl apart, please stay to stitch her back together.

serial killer lover 3/2/17**
but it wasn't even love at all. it was all part of the game you were playing. you are simply a serial killer lover, and nothing more. you break hearts to add to your collection, but you have no recollection of the bruised bitten bodies you leave behind on your search for warm flesh.

Please don’t be fooled, my love
My eyes, appearing at peace
But, dear, there’s a storm inside
Save yourself from my
Ailing, infected, insanity
My specialty lies within
The incapability of being loved
Please escape while you can
For, I am eternally helpless

we live in a society
   were people are judged
not just biased off the way they
look but also how they act
and with what they enjoy
       society today is over run
with the new I phone I pad
instead of the wheres moms and hows dads
       we are so consumed by technology
that when it comes to a actual conversation
we cant stand but to use ttyl or brb
when we could just say the true words
instead of abbreviations such as
when we text
its always lol
but are we really laughing?
or is it just a means of expression  
of to days incapability of sociable
events and activity's.

You called me from Ocean City the other night.
Silence in the background, a good friend by your side.
Drunk voice you spoke softly and asked what I was doing.
My sleepy voice was a distraction that kept you captivated in how lovely
it sounded over the telephone when you were dizzy and couldn't find your feet.
It sounded perfect when you couldn't feel a thing.
I'm a habit you'd love to break, but I'm already broken
and this is already fate.

I asked why you called and you said "yeah" three times too quickly,
waving off the question like you didn't have an answer
when really you just didn't want to tell me that
honestly
you just wanted to hear my voice when you found the fun had ended
and the games were over and the people had left and you were trying
to fix a fan meant to cool you off, but kept you frustrated
on why it wouldn't keep spinning like your world was and why it was
I kept you in the same place when you always thought you didn't need nobody
to bring closeness and completeness to your empty space.

You tried to hang up but something wouldn't let you.
Maybe the sand in your eyes or the sweating drink in your hand,
you slipped and pressed the button before you heard me finish the goodbye.
But it was better off this time,
or so you told yourself,
because what woman wants a man who's been drunk in the sand since 9 o'clock that morning.
What beauty that she has wants to be near a man who's *****.
You questioned yourself as your covered chest hit the bed and as your head
laid itself against the comfort of a place you told yourself you'd stay long enough
to forget that you wanted to be where I was.

You tried to call again but something wouldn't let you.
Maybe the incapability to hold a grasp or the darkness in your eyes took over,
you just shut your mouth and pretended to be sleeping
pretended you weren't dreaming of holding me next to you in that moment.
But to ease your worry, just know your memory matched mine.
Just know that I dialed your number seven times and I stared
at my ceiling fan begging it to stop spinning and spinning
around how many times I would find myself wanting you again
when I shouldn't.
Just know that I wanted to be wherever you were.
Just know that it wasn't over and I didn't want it to end.
Just know that while we weren't talking
you were always in my head.

I detest what you've made me become 
you ******* hate me 
I just don't understand why 
and I try 
oh do I ******* try 
but to communicate the recipient mustnt be a brick wall
A week ago you loved me
now I'm beneath your hellos however have enough energy to talk about me 
while I still can't fathom how I can't call you up about the thing I just saw that I knew would make you laugh 
the thought of that incapability handicaps me.
I don't even try to watch the same channels anymore because I know those situations where I'll lift myself from the couch only to collapse back down because you don't even want to see my number on your caller ID
I try not to but I cry. 
I cleanse my body from this pressure that has harden me from the inside out 
I feel so deeply I turned the feelings you've infected me with into water 
I begin to breathe 
To realize I can't feel
youve seen me and want none of it.

You've got to be a collection of seasons
Nothing else falls
Springs
or shines like summer

You have been cold
Not like winter
Cold like media reported deaths
without justice, just destruction

I have hung my head low for you
Like October branches
Given you the pleasure of seeing me fall
Like leaves

Where is the water hole
My tears won’t help Mays flowers grow
Their pedals will wilt
Under the pressure of my confident incapability

Mistake not my expression for hate
You have given me the gift of words
Everyday this month
Tomorrow I will give them back to you silently

It isn't wise to keep things that can't be kept
No one bottles the sun
or wraps the wind
or expects flowers to live after being plucked from the ground

You have made me press pen to paper
Keys to keyboard
To tell the story
Not of how we met but how we prolonged a very necessary  goodbye