i can't breathe without
suffering from the fear of
drowning in the air.
i am an underwater
creature and this air
is poisonous to my lack
of lungs. i need you.
you are the water in this
stale air. i need you.
you take away my fear of
breathing. with you i can breathe.
-----
i do not know why
you are not like air to me.
why are you like my
water? you are just a boy
and i am just an
underwater creature. i am not
worthy of you at-
tention. i don't deserve to
breathe you everyday.
i wish you were the air so
you would be like my poison.

"I'm aloner than you."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am."
"You want 'tention."
"No I don't."
"Yes you do."
"Well, I'm aloner than you think."
"You're alone exactly as I think."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"Okay then but I swear I love company."
"And what am I?"
"No you're not."
"[Chuckling] You're a fine one, aren't you?"
"I don't know."
"Listen sprite, you have all the world and anyone can be your friend."
"Who said I want friends?"
"Oh that's right, you want 'tention."
"Well what have I got, besides all the world?"
"Yourself and everything that gives a home to all the world."
"What is this thing that gives a home to all the world?"
"It's a very welcoming thing with much wisdom and all it wants is some company."
"If it's so wise, why does it want company?"
"Because, child, if we were all alone, who would laugh at our jokes or hug us or how would we play baseball?"
"You mean this home is a place for the Tigers to play?"
"Yes son, Go Tigers."

My mind goes for a smoke before my body does.
It becomes a pressure just like holding *** if I don't fulfill the mind's intention.
The heart is silenced and prepared for the intake of nicotine even though I haven't moved from my place.
The social joys, the buzz, and relief of smoking circulate through my mind.
My back tells me it will be comforted by smoking, just like a teenager asking for car keys.
The part of me who doesn't want to smoke is portrayed as an over-worried mother, over protecting this teen.
The male aspect that wants to stop smoking is decided as the empty insurance salesman simply concerned with the money.
In other words he is seen as fake.
Next, the Natives remind me that tobacco is a sacred tradition given by White Buffalo Calf Woman.
"It eases tention," She says.
I think about the people I've influenced to smoke, and how others influenced me too.
I think how much more healthy Chloe looks now that she's quit.
My hip muscles now tell me a smoke will relax them.
I'm reminded of the lack of care of minorities by those who don't smoke.
I'm reminded of smoking comradery.
Of Native society centered on the pipe.

A tattoo of my newfound math problems: R^n.

And with this one distraction, all these thoughts of smoking combine and say: "okay, let's go smoke" as if tugging at my seat.
Yet I tie myself to my seat, I theory anyway.
Smoke or sleep? They try the either or question.
I'm staying up for another 11 minutes.
What will happen?
The friendliness of Nic does it to me again.

Oh dear oh my sweet little child Rose
Picked and mumbled like a little bump on the nose
Why you deliberately infused daddy with crack
So he can sail to Jutland and never to return back

Shiny little Mustique you put her so much in danger
So that you can bump into Dickens, the anonimously ranger?
Dell the witch , always burn the *****
Never felt for a better living , but always tend to get rich

Silly kisser captain, swimming down the ocean
Battled for the monster shark to stop its motion
Soon you realized his special secret had no notion
In fact you could only realize his imaculate devotion

Vigurously you gear your sadistic attention
Towards your senile new friend, ambigous direction
Soon you start to realize your vertical tention
As soon as finally you get your proper affection.

You are God, you do not exist to me.
Are you the god responsible for mur-
dering millions of children every year?
If you did one thing, you do all things. Take
your blame, God. You alone are on trial.
/
Answer for your sins. Explain your transgre-
ssions against humankind. You alone must
pay for the pain imposed on this planet.
The time for faith has passed, take action now,
before you lose your weak hold on my life.
/
Why did you take my father? My daughter?
Give me back my loved ones and I will be-
gin to consider my belief again.
You who have claimed piety, stand for me
and justify my suffering at once!
/
You are still absent, what demands your at-
tention more than this? Are there more pressing
concerns in your kingdom of dirt? What is
more vital than claiming your forgotten
son? I abstain from this myth forever.

There's a dark, empty feeling taking hold of me.
There is only so many times you can fake a smile.
Silent breakdowns in the dead of the night,
Just so no-one can see that I've become so weak.

I didn't think I would relapse this hard,
After a year or two I didn't want to fell back at the start,
But now I've become accustomed to starving myself
And hurting whatever part of me I can hide.

There's an unnerving tention inside of me
Feeling overwhelmed at almost everything around.
The only think that keeps me feeling alive
Is feeling the pain whilst watching everyone live a successful life...

Only got two weeks to live
Two weeks to get my stuff together before they throw me out for Good.
It's good because there people,
His wife support the family like a anchor
The Dad lost but he's a good fellow
There son...well there son is incredible.
I hope one day he reads the Hints that I gave him,
Before I Leave I pray They sense the love that ease,
A laughter for the mom to inhale and exhale the tention.
A intimate talk with the Dad for the times that he sounds like nobody listens.
And a overflow for the son for the times that he chased friends and girls so he can call someone that was there before.
For me a sunrise and hug before I leave,
And I pray to God that all this will happen before two weeks.

..amen

Out upon my window pane
Willow leaf gusty day,

Early dawn yet arrived,
Silhouette shadows swoosh-swoop.

A storm is coming just you wait,
A mournful reason to remember today.

Tention snap, crackle, and sizzle,
Boiling over results harsh fizzle.
----
Quick run flee fly

Hit past mile and mile-faster full dial!
No game swoosh swash we lost them a while.

Flutter flourish leaves form the figure,
Death has come this holiday season.

I was assembled in carful manner,
like an artist with a brutal wrist
learning to be gentle at the hand
With his fingers a stroke per touch was liquid fire... and the ambers bled.

In an age of chaste- my uniform and I elaborated together,
right before the architect checked in.

To measure our dogma
do we have the skill of a plank?
Grown enough, he'd engage me at force.

The utensils of my porcine frame had
taken attention- and tention
off from his sore eyes.
Across the alley walls where we wildly grind, contrary
to a man compelled.
And like a beast, he took liberty
in between walls my temple built,
and broke them back down
to a soundly fever.
© Salamasina Talaepa

One X on the calander and a cup of luke warm coffee
The sidewalk chalk is like padlocks on my feet,
But they cant stop me
Through a static phone line, I can still hear you talking
Nothing of the nice sorts-
It is impure and not godly

Your perception of me slips through the cracks of you teeth
Bitter and raw things you breathe
Your voice is muddy and meek
Another X on the calander
Not a lot of sleep in between

I am wondering where your love went, because it doesnt live here
How many Xs on the calander?
A few weeks? A month? A year?
Both the liquor and the answer is clear

Long car rides spent swallowing sentences
Its a muffled radio, singing along with the tention
Where did you heart go? Every beat a lease of absence
Where did you put it? In a drawer or a cabnet?
How many Xs on the calander will it be till I once again have it

"I'm having a hard time working at the gumball jaw breaker factory. I'm tired of the **** at the manure-bagging plant too. Over the moon, under the gun, over the top, underneath the sink...manor, man or, manure, man *****, manner...Doctor Wayne, my emotional pain kills my job-hunting prospects, you fat, bald, stinking charlatan!"
   "Very good, Timmy," Doctor Wayne said. "I gotta take a dump." And he did and it was like a million plumbers died for nothing.
    And, "It's 10 minutes old, which is ten times longer than my at-tention span. The Australia part isn't for you it's for a different beautiful speed boat girl living a quokka-free life on the beach. You wouldn't like her as she sleeps through Florida daytimes."
   "What's that mean? Do you know?"
   "I don't know what it means."