I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

you get one day to cry
but tomorrow
it’s time to fix your crown

See her? With the impeccable taste in fashion?
She's top of her class in calculus. You probably didn't know that.
See him? With the fearless glint in his eye?
He's studying science, but he has the soul of a poet. Tests lie.
See her? Buried behind a stack of books nine tall and three deep?
She's terrified that she'll get a B, because, to her, that's failing.
See him? Museum-quality doodles and red ink decorate his papers.
He'll be president one day, if he can find something that he loves.
See me? No, actually you probably don't see me. Why would you?
I've managed to dangle from the rim of the outskirts of life so far.
Someone once told me that seeing gifts is a gift itself. Maybe it's true.
But, didn't they ever tell you that geniuses doubt themselves, too?
That we doubt ourselves most of all?

Santa Fe, Texas
May 18, 2018

welcome to America.
where there had been 11 school shootings before
the end of january of 2018.
welcome to America
where the mentality of the attacker
is the problem,
and not the system.
welcome to America
where a 17 year old Pakistani girl was killed in her school
among 9 other beautiful souls.
welcome to America, Sabika
which was greeted to you nearly six months ago
where you arrived in the "land of hopes and dreams"
to learn and grow and achieve.
welcome to America
the country that showed promise from the looming Taliban threats in Karachi, your hometown.
welcome to America
the country that you were going to help save Pakistan
by building stronger US - Pakistan relationships
and showing women empowerment by being
(possibly) the second female prime minister of Pakistan.
never again would you watch fireworks explode in the sky on August 14
never again would you count up your money on Eid
never again would you eat your mom's biryani on a hot summer day.
welcome to America, Sabika Sheikh
your hopes and dreams were alive and floating
in the land you gave your heart to
and the land that would take it away.

- a.g.

I am lost within my head,
I am empty, I am mad.
I can’t figure it all out,
What this life has been about.
Just can’t solve the simple math,
Doomed to follow my own path.
My own path that I can’t choose,
So Life it wins and I will lose.

love is muscular dystrophy.

i can feel the earth cave in
and the mountains touch tips,
a "drunken mistake"
in the church parking lot
they'll never tell their friends.

i get it.
i never told my friends the truth,
i just told them i loved them.

and for a while i have been
attempting to soundtrack
the world's end, my end,
and the realization that
my gastrointestinal system
will collapse before i'm 20
if i don't lift my head up for once.

yet every good poem i've ever written
has been sober and manic,
pessimism with too much hope,
and every metaphor used
never held any actual weight.

i've welcomed writer's block
with half open arms
as i try to write a final track,
or at least a penultimate one,
if the time doesn't feel right.

if i have to promise once more
that i'd try to take care of myself,
stop crying in empty driveways
over broken promises,
stop holding myself over
the diner's staircase
with bulging anticipation.

it felt good being surrounded,
it feels bad being crushed

and knowing there is so much more
out there in the valley or whatever universe
i decide to live in,
yet i can't get out
of my family's trash compactor.