I don't know what to wear today.

Yesterday I was wearing a striped shirt and black leggings,

Yesterday I found out my bestfriend was in the hospital.

But since I was wearing that striped shirt,

I can't wear it again today.

I don't know what to wear today.

I wish yesterday I had known today would be hard,

So I could have prepared myself,

I could have picked out my outfit in advance.

But who could ever prepare themselves,

For something like that.

Snowflakes descend gently

As if on angel’s wings

Perennials wake, still sleepy

In Winter’s covering

The snowdrop bows in sunlight

Its petals place a kiss

Upon the yellow aconite

Spring’s sweet tenderness

Green ivy vines lay low

Lining paths of hidden spaces

Lush, the garden grows

Dewey soil, prepared with places

Clouds all shed their tears

Love draws near our spirits

Hearts, weighted with fear

You’re slowly brought forth, near it

The sun pierces the veil

The clouds, enshrouding light

The air, heavy and stale

Sorrow’s song takes to flight

The birds hover in thermals

Flowers emerge with blades

Summer’s caterpillars

Winged beauty, fly with grace

Earth cracks open; thirsty; parched

New grass, checkered patches of green

Summer to Fall slowly parts

Morning dew on ground; leaves of sheen

Winter arrives with the wind

Snow crystals glimmer with dawn

Flakes, still, capturing the glint

Silence, draws mother and fawn

Perennials wake, again, with cold

Full cycle, though, painfully long

First, of the years to unfold

Since your beauty, from earth, has been gone

Life bursting forth in the Spring

My mind reflects all that I miss

Tears slowly fall , ’membering

The warmth of your hug and kiss

Tracing lines in my mind; your hands

Aged with the beauty of time

Passing, through my fingers like sands

Seeing yours in the aging of mine

You were there, in each passing day

And, then, in a moment not at all

The date, etched in stone above your grave

Stone; cold and impersonal

Photo credit: Spring Kiss; Amberg Anna

Barefoot, on a leather couch,

Directly above the wings.

Caressing his lover,

Tickling her neck,

Her resonant body sings,

Johnny Go-Day, lost in her world,

And the blue, and the wing through the sky.

Holding her tight,

Strumming her light,

Singing songs so that young girls would cry.

Long blond hair, like a bridal veil

Covered Johnny’s surprise.

When the Leer jet rocked,

Rolled and dropped,

A vapor-trail piercing blue skies.

Claxons, from the cabin called,

Johnny pulled his guitar close,

He took a breath,

Embracing death,

And played forgotten notes.

An olden song, a song of Mom,

Flooded through his soul.

“In the stillness,

Of the midnight,

Sacred scenes unfold.”

I open my eyes and see food, so much food.

Carnes, postres, y mariscos.

Pasteles, helado, galletas.

Just looking at all the food makes my mouth water.

When I dig my hand into the nearest cake and shove it into my mouth, I taste so many flavors - caramel, toffee, butterscotch, and, at the very end, apple.

Next, I shove a handful of chocolate in my mouth that melts as soon as it touches my tongue.

Then, I see a turkey leg, radiating warmth and sigh as the juices drip down my chin.

Just as I am about to reach for a cookie, I hear my mother say, “Despierta, chica! ¡Vas a llegar para la escuela!”, and a tear rolls down my cheek as I realize that all that food was just a dream.

That I don’t know when I will eat next, but that I must go to school, graduate high school, and go to college, so my children won’t end up like me.

Hambre, siempre hambre.

I’ve been having an affair with a lady

Most can’t understand

But nothing in this world

Makes me feel the way she can

Since the first time that I held her

I knew she was the one

Never questioning or judging

Despite the things I have done

In the weeks before I met her

I cried a million tears

She made life seem eurphoic

Sweet reprieve from my nightmares

She's been my dirty little secret

For about a year

But secrets lead to lies

Creating a love that's insincere

When she's left me lonely

I can't get out of bed

And the diabolical voices

Begin screaming madness in my head

I’ve kept our love a secret

As it is a mortal sin

Faith and hope escaped

Replaced by darkness deep within

Inflicting torture so obscene

Left on the brink of insanity

Filled with anger, rage, and hate

Am I headed for my death

Or some other deserving fate

I do love Tina....

Most days of the week

But with every flick of my Bic

A divorce is what I truly seek

Tina’s far from beautiful

Nothing but a dirty little whore

But the second she’s gone

I’d kill for just a tiny bit more

What I’ve learned about Tina

She comes with one guarantee

For her to leave someone must die

And that someone won’t be me

I refuse to let her kill me

Even though I’m not afraid of death

I always call her Tina

But her name is really Crystal...

The figure dressed in black

Stood before the painting.

In another room there was a whack,

The sound of something falling.

The person tilted their head,

And announced loudly,

"Sir, this painting is a lovely spread,

But it's crooked. How tacky!"

With a steady gloved finger,

The dark figure adjusted it,

And then professed to its owner,

"Don't worry, now it's perfect."

With this action done,

The figure left the image,

Saluted the bound man,

And left with his wealth and fridge.

I know the drugs really mess with your emotions, and being a sane person I tried to negotiate with myself, perhaps a slight contradiction. The dialogue in my head went something along the lines of trying to convince myself that I could, and I would, open this wrapper to get to the spoon, so I could eat my chocolate Frosty. Frosty are my comfort food, and I had just gone through a three hour surgery repairing all the things I tore in my knee, along with the emotional rollercoaster that the last year had been, and I wanted to enjoy my damn frosty. Like I really wanted my frosty. So as I tried to also negotiate with my fingers, finicky little things, I couldn’t manage to tear, break, or pop the stupid plastic covering my stupid plastic, probably destroying the world, spoon. As my frustration grew, my hands went awol and chose to work against the system. Okay, I low key, freaked out, which freaked out my poor dad. As I burst into tears over the whole ordeal, he, confused by the situation started to comfort me, thinking I was in literal (knee) pain. Just as all hope was lost, my rouge hand tore through the barrier. Yet, my victory was fleeting becasue the plastic, not hardy at all, spoon broke under all of my joyous pressure. I proceed to slam the two pieces of now useless plastic into my dad’s floor board. Sobs excaped my mouth and as my dad came to the realization of the 'frosty' situation he, probably with more love and conviction than anyone will ever say this sentence, said “we will get you another spoon”.

#broken_pencil

I really can’t speak

With food in my teeth

I should have brought floss

But I’m at a loss

What should I do

I don’t want to be rude

A piece of my lunch

Has got me in a crunch

What an embarrassing time

To be arrested for a crime

Though my sentence is lesser

Mugshots are forever