I promise to hurt you and tell you pretty lies

I'll continue to break hearts

but that'll only be the start

of this plan I have devised

Jesus will not take the wheel

but your car he'll steal

God is pulling away

when he promised he would stay

Tell me how the fuck it feels

I want to blow my brains out

I want to slit my wrists

I want to scream right in your face

but I can resist

I really don't want to die

but I don't want to live

You will take it all away

and I'll give & give & give

Am I a joke?

I think I am

All you do is laugh.

At me, at mine,

At what I am

But I can’t take a joke

According to my high school physics textbook, 

Sound will not travel without something to travel through.

The atmosphere, the ocean, even a wall will do.

(Such is why space is always so quiet.)

According to my high school experience,

Misery will not arrive without silence to travel through.

The evening, the morning, even the afternoon will do.

(Such is why nighttime is always so grim.)

There is something about the moment 

The entire world turns in for the night

That seems to turn something on inside me.

This is when the whispers start.

Good-for-nothing, they call.

Screw-up. Lazy. Idiot.

They build in my chest and scream silently,

Buzzing like a swarm of wasps under my skin.

They dig my nails into my palms

Grind my teeth like millstones

Make me consider quieting the cacophony

By removing the life they need to travel through.

I never did, though.

Instead, I followed the world's advice

And turned in for the night-

Turned into a thoughtless body 

Wrapped in sheets and blankets and dreams.

I turned up the volume on life,

In friends' chatter and teachers' droning,

Trucks on the pavement and birds in the trees:

The surround-sound of the universe.

Until, of course,

The next night.

(According to my high school English textbook,

Edgar Allen Poe found the beauty in pain

And the art in the melancholic. 

He lived to forty and died in the night.)

Counting my breath

I feel

Cool and comfortable

Like lying

In a mystical forest

Under moonlight.

A golden toad

Relaxes

In gray rain.

I pick up

A warm flute

From icy cold snow.

Rainlight

Splashes the

Glistening avenue.

There is a quick

Flicker

Of filament.

My love is a

Lilac blossom.

I relax

Deeper

Like summer

And beauty.

I am a

Hole in the sky.

Orange blossoms

Float on

Soft water.

I am one

With all

Of creation.

5/11/2016

Wish this were a cliche Shakur quote

Or something along the lines

of a hallmark card

We switched roles eight years ago

You were always the wild child

Time really does fly mama

He'll be sixteen this month

He misses you

I miss you

It's Mother's Day

And I'm the one he said

"You are appreciated" to

Now where's the sense in that?

Wake up and smell

the coffee mama