On a cafeteria table,
in the middle of February,
the kind where it gets dark at 5pm,
sat eight minature figurines made of shells—
brown, speckled, like a calico cat
with googly eyes on the middle of their heads,
one business man with a black derby,
one with a pretty pink bow,
or even one with blue suspenders,
and all their chubby bellies
rounding out over their pants. The woman

with her iridescent nails, bony fingers,
the skin pressed thin against her knuckles,
lines them up in a perfect row, tilting
their heads into one another as if
they are having a tiny conversation
admist the numbers being called—
B14! She stamps in red. B14!
A man pushes a cart around the tables,
like one mows grass around graves,
with fifty cent candy bars and potato chips
on flimsy paper plates. He asks the woman
if she wants ice in her Pepsi, but she just blows
a long sigh of smoke and flicks the sparks
behind her back. He doesn’t ask her to pay.

G56! She touches the head of the figurine
with the mustache. G56! I’ve lost count
of how many numbers I’ve missed,
but then there’s you, your hand on my thigh,
creeping, your fingers pushing
my cotton skirt up, up, and up—
O74!
We play with acrylic chips instead of stampers.
We’d like to win the lottery tickets,
maybe cash them in at the gas station
after we drink a couple iced teas and snack
on Mentos cause we ran out of money
two bottles ago.

The figurine with the fishing pole has one pupil
that lies at the bottom of the eye,
lop-sided, and staring at me while I pretend
that I have G47! or pretend that this isn’t
the first time you’ve brought me here, G47!
instead of a real date. Or pretend
that I can’t hear the woman cough, and cough,
and cough as she switches stampers between every ten calls
or touch this figurine or move that one, just slightly,
this way or that or

N44! She doesn’t have it. N44!
I don’t have it.
Don’t worry, child, you’ll have it all someday,
she whispers, sideways from her mouth,
with your thumb making circles around my hipbones,
and the man pushing the cart, the squeak of the wheels
B7! But I don’t have it. B7! I don’t have it.
I don’t have it.

She's wheat-skinned and coarse-haired;
In a fair and lovely world. This woman embodied
Perfection; without ever journeying on a quest to seek it.

All the other girls understood themselves,
Each and every bit of them. She simply
Forgot; to look in the mirror, to be aware of her singular quirks, to be daunted by the schools of swordfish.

In the tribes of North Africa, communities banged drums and danced to please the Gods.
"Allah, Allah!" they'd temporarily yell to foot-stampers who seemed to invoke the spirits,
Those who took breaths of transparent inspiration and truly,
And truly, lived in that jiffy.

The entirety of her life was an Allah moment,
For she never ceased to be lit from below, and lit;
From within. Her monochromatic soul shined a spectrum,
And she was perfect, because she didn't need to be.

_ listen to this ! so you want me to lay some answers, please state that you demand it
any specific font? Before I say I'm cancerous, wait I'm gonna hand it
to be specific I don't try to play badass, but mate you said you saw stampers that says I'm a bandit
I may be a pessimist, but I won't say I'm broken, not like break dancers, a bit late for first aid, this needs more than a bandage
many things on my wishing list, got to get a sword, I'm out attacking campers in a raid, take the hunting bate to make a sandwich
I'm over slipping the wrist, but I can't hold a knife, the hand tampers the body, some scars are hand made, I look at my face and I can't stand it
I'm stepped over by an elephant, rot and I feel like an old shape of wildlife, as my bravery scampers away like a puppy, it's a turtle race but I'm a handicapped rabbit
see I'm a mentalist, I'll unveil the untold stories of anyone's life,who am I ? I don't think it matters, but once I stayed on the red planet
I know my words seem irrelevant, I'm just cold inside, imagine that non of the bankers gave you a loan, so you stayed alone, crippled by hate, dying slow under your blanket
attention to my words, I'm the lumberjack to the rotten wood of my family tree, there's no heart cold as mine
detention never works on the thunderclap with his forgotten childhood, clapping happily in every political party, no cake for the minor pushed to start a career in the coal mine
tension when I mention that Karl Marx isn't the worst, people may wonder that I'm from the hood, but I'm actually worse than that the body and soul ain't fine
this invention is backfiring on his lords, like a finger snapped, no I'm not good, the legacy get ****** but no one follows me, and I can't find my role I'm ...


_so it seems that every time I pick the pencil
Everything I write has to suspenseful
You say it's hard, that's not right it's simple
I don't know it's just like popping a pimple
It's not that important, would it give me the life of Paris Hilton_


so what do you know about being broke, so broke that your body parts floats away in pieces
just to let you know I no longer feel like a human being, wishing for a heart stroke, and the peace is
_ death , it's easier than the things I'm seeing, but it seems far I'm gonna use my own rope, so help me Jesus
or I can meet Beth, she helps in my healing, I hope I can do it in some recess
mess and emptiness is the only things I'm feeling, note that I have a heart inside not just feces
_ **** and Molly percocets, are helping me agreeing, I thought it'll ignite the fire of will, but now I stand here as it freezes
_ ladies I don't like to shed light on me, probably you won't like what you'll see, most likely you won't like me cause the most is ain't like me, anyone likes tea ? In the ninja Turtles mentality I'm a mix between Donatello and Mikey, we're the same hight, man it's getting exciting, who wants something to do with the kid from pikes peak, he's slightly weird , but still he manged to grow a beard. Still do you wanna fight me, I just said I'm a ninja and my blades are spiky. Staying still but I might be dead, you'd probably wanna check my vital signs and the pulse in my neck, but don't bother I was diagnosed as a corpse clinically, I won't come back please don't beg there's nothing I can do technically
never give a knife to a criminal, tonight don't put the light on in your living room, act normal despite the bodies in the swimming pool, it's OK act like a fool when see me pushing stool off the wooden stool with a spoon under the light of the luminous moon, when I talked like  this  sounded cool, I never had fight in the  elementary school, I spent all the nights abiding rules, but others on the sight of opportunity would dribble and drool, alright this is enough to deliver the message, you didn't feel it it's subliminal


*you're just praising my talent
But I wish I never had it
Couldn't have anything else instead
But If I  didn't have it I wouldn't have something to spaz with
I got loose like a black panther now ain't that right Chadwick *

Do re me
_ so I'm just a wanna be
wanna be human ob-vious-ly
I don't know about hu-man-ity
but there's a less of a human left in me
I'd like it actually
_ if my blood would stop in my pulmonary artery
it's no urinary pathology
I just like to *** publicly
I'm just impolite right daddy?
the worst day in my life is when you had me
if wanna disgust me
you'd better pay me some money
_ it's hard to throw up with an empty
stomach but it's OK I can't feel my belly
and hey I'm not here to cause controversy
but ******* nursing
and please don't wait for an apology
play the violin my name has dropped, heading to the asylum because my songs on the stage has flopped, I'm a murderer hear the sirens it's not what for I hoped , I wish I could just caged it inside and then with it I could have coped
but it's amazing how the cops came to tase me, trying to place me on the ground of the hall, but I was trying to act the way they rased me please let me go,but why won't you place me, what would you name me literally a lunatic or generally crazy, go ahead amaze me

She challenged me, to a game of whom no one wins
She made me grow up faster than what I should’ve
I stand shaking in front of her as she chases away all of my dreams
So that I can fix the mistakes she’s made,
Children who weren’t my own, who needed someone to take them home
She cared little for me, as do I for her
With the dark puddles under my eyes, dry and exhausted
From sleepless nights, not feeling my limbs that have gone limp  
Rocking them back to sleep, with the sweet lullaby
Wishing them back to sleep  
I was the hero in the nighttime
Sleep-deprived, caring for those who weren’t mine
With night terrors of my own, pushing them away to care for those who didn’t know
with quivering lips trying to hold the fake crescent of my lips
Wondering if I was the reason, why she left
Always returning with red puffy eyes, and the stench of a cheap men's scent
Besides the familiar smell of the man who she was to have bonded her soul to
And the kids she put herself into
I was the one left with the burden of choice
To see her soulless eyes, just waiting to get high
And yet she returns in her broken-down Toyota, as she opens the door the suffocating
The smell of marijuana evaporating into thin air
As she stampers up the driveway returning to destroy  our lives once more
Set us free, I pleaded to the so-called heavens above, not to just save me but to set the ones who were punished by the actions bestowed by our mother
She was gone for good
Pushed out of our lives as if she was just a ghost who gave us false hope
I got rid of her, I vanished her back to the place she escaped to in the night and day
I was the one given the burden
I was the one left to fix the broken hearts of those who were left behind
I am the protector, I was then, As I always will be