Sometimes I am the whip-flailing horseman charging into tomorrow
On the fevered hooves of the present while
Safe under my cloak against sunset-red clouds of kicked-up dust.

Sometimes I am the frantically zigzagging prey half-blind with fear
Cursing the double-dealing wind that lashes against my hide
And feeds my scent to the ravenous hounds of the past.

Perhaps I am both hunter and quarry in a simultaneous paradox
Which explodes from the shattered fiction of single-mindedness
Into fresh awareness brilliant and dark and incomprehensibly vast.

For all I know I could even be a sprite tossed haphazardly in a Bermuda Triangle
Above fault lines where yesterday's memories collide into the future
To birth strange whirlpools of thought stirred by phantom hands
Waiting for me to join them below among hulking carcasses of rust.

There was a girl
A sad girl
With hair like untamed ebony
And eyes like tombstones and the universe
The type of girl that looks at you from under her untamed coal field
And smiles a beautiful thing
A ceramic smile
Soon to be stained by to much coffee
To much rot gut *****
The type of girl that sits naked in the dark
In a bathtub full of scalding water
The type of girl that fills subway cars full of poetry and lavender
Sitting bundled up in too many layers of clothing for this hot hot summer
The type of girl that works the nightshirt at a Walmart stocking shelves
And spends her breaks writing down story ideas in her journal
Stories about a funny girl
With clipped brown hair

One day while filling the shelves with organic caged beef
She remembers she left the journal out in the break room
And she rushes back to grab it
And stops dead in the doorway
Because someone is reading her words
And she begins to panic
And she begins to panic because the  person who is reading the worlds she has spent months scrawling
is a normal boy
The type of boy who smiles awkwardly at the red eyes she wears like a bandage leaving the bathroom
A boy whose smile is clean and whose eyes are clear
Like a watering hole fed by mountain water in the early early spring
The type of boy that knows she’s a freak and she wants so
so desperately for him to tell her that
So that he stops flashing that sliver of a monochrome crescent moon
So that he stops giving her hope that she can be anything other than that sad sad girl writing stories in the break room

One night she is cutting boxes
Her sleeves rolled up, in one of those phasic moods where she doesn’t care who sees the angry red lines crossing her arms
A scarred ladder leading to unsteady hands
She puts a new blade in and jabs it into the clean side of a box
But the blade doesn’t glide through the smooth brown skin
But the blade gets caught in the gnarled fibers
But the blade is new and the feeling of gliding through the perfect side is taken from her
And she pulls her arms hard while thinking about the girl with chestnut hair
The girl who had shared a box of wine with her last night
She looks down on the floor and sees a growing pile of red wine
And she falls
And people are screaming
And she looks down and sees the blade sticking out of her wrist
And she’s speaking calmly that it was an accident, she didn’t mean it this time
Her manager is on the phone with the ambulance and the janitor is glaring in the doorway
Forever trying to figure out how to get blood stains out from the stockroom floor
And the last thing she sees in the cacophony of chaos is the normal boy
And the grimace of fear forever plastered on his face in her fading memory

She wakes up in the hospital where people visit her like a sandstorm
And doctors come and speak to their clipboards
One day the girl with chestnut hair comes
And no words are said
Just feelings screamed into the oblivion between them
And she knew that was the last time the funny girl would ever visit
Weeks pass, and one day the doctor comes in and says to his clipboard
Insurance ran out, so you are all better now
Even though she doesn’t feel better

It starts with a fifth of ***** after you come back to your empty two-person apartment
Then a handful of pills
Than more cigarettes than your lungs can handle
This slow self destruction culminates when she goes out on her balcony
And sees her neighbor smoking a cigarette next door to her
And he just smiles and says
It never gets easier kid
He flicks the end of his cigarette after taking a deep breath
And the girl with eyes like tombstones and the universe
Watched the cherry red spark fall
As smoke filled the stars in front of her
The man chuckled
But it’ll all be alright
And the girl that with hair blacker than a crow
Nodded into the starry sky

If wishes were horses
If life is bed of roses
I'd wish to ride a royal herdic
Joy said " this life is phasic"  
This is not Harry Potter that you can make a magic
This world is just sadistic
The people we trust are Judas...Poisoning our love and feeding us hate
People getting divided because of their faith
I wish we could start being more realistic...And people will stop being fake
If wishes were horses
Yeah what about the beggars
Running from one streets and buses
Some even runned by big cars
Did they wished for this life
Do you think that's what they choose to like?...You think they are cursed by life?
Or maybe that's just their life?
Correction! That's just a lie
People may be born in poor
But they're not born to be poor
Wealth is a blessing and not genetic
To be poor is a lesson and not a verdict
You wake up one morn God blessed you to have it more
Good health, wealth and even more
You look down on others because of your dime?
I get it, you're blinded by them, it's just the gift of time
Suddenly you behave heartless
The orphans, widows and homeless  
Beautiful people who had only known disaster
Afflicted with tragedies and pain
Displaced from home, despised by men
Victims of violence, drugs and ****
Can you even feel their pain?
I doubt if you even know their names
Because you call them names
They're people, hurt by people
The rich people  poor people
Just people, we're all people in this road of life!
They're beautiful even though their lives hasn't been
They may be harm by men but they're loved by christ
I wish you wouldn't have to face this life alone
I wish what happened to you weren't the truth
In this life we're all fighters , you're a warrior and you're not alone
You may be weak but with God you'll always pull through... HE will shine your way through the valley
You'll always be his pally
Teachers and preachers won't determine your merit...You're a child of God be proud of your title
God is with you, you will win the battle