Sun of mine....

sun of mine!

Let

the towers

rise and shine,

Let

the waves

sink and dive!

Swimming waves

zig

and

zag

like lines in barren street

sands.

Sun of mine....

sun of mine!

Let

the towers

rise and shine,

Let

the waves

sink and dive!

Dreams of wicked

cyanide in

cyan tides.

Arms away,

arms away...

Shake the pain,

shake the pain.

Sand Castles in the City lights

warm and sickening

as the city

life.

March comes in like a lion

And I can not put down the beast

The wounds of time remain

Am I slaughter for his feast?

March.

And with it comes Spring

The season of rebirth

Yet all I see is a casket

Nailed shut for eternity

“God is dead”!

“God is dead”!!

Said Nietzche

“And We have Killed him”

March.

And with it comes Spring

The stars shall punch holes of light

Into the darkness

To keep the world

From going into that good night

At least,

Until the sun rise

So why

Do I remain in a state of demise?

I know where deferred dreams go

I know why the caged birds sings

March.

It comes in like a lion

I know

Because I can hear heaven ring!

September leaves like stardust fades

Sunset skies are Yesterday’s

Crimson dies in slow decay

As rainbows spill on golden hay

Songbird’s chorus fades to mist

As dewy frost blankets white, crisp

Pigments, peach, bid farewell’s kiss

Gone with freckled skin of bliss

Sunlight’s late to Morning’s call

Summer sleeps ’neath quilt of Fall

Harvest fields in moonlight’s sprawl

As Evening’s silent echoes lull

September leaves in Autumn’s wake

Time moves on each breath I take

Starved for hues that satiate

I feast on memories, dear, and wait

i know you aren’t actually mine, but my eyes turn green,

when my daily life decides to remind

me that thousands of miles still lie in between

the two of us,

and i still can’t have those things i dream

of future, past playful jealousy,

i question sometimes if it’s just a lie,

a fantasy of my beloved gemini

The boy surveyed the room. He was tall, taller than most of the othee students. Taller than the teacher, even. But that wasn't a difficult feat; she was shorter than most of her normal-height students. He was silent as he stood near the door, watching, his glasses slightly askew on his nose. His hair was mussed, messy curls settled around his face. He licked his lips and supported his face with a hand under his chin.

He was a watcher.

it’s only one word, resting on the tip of your tongue like crushed sand. Uncomfortable. there’s a rush of beating heart, loud in the ear like the vivid loud thumps of a drum. And the word is just there. Begging, begging to be released. But. No.

He can’t release it.

not not this everything but this

And it sticks. He can feel it’s heavy presence. Tastes hollow but sometimes— when he is the comfort of his mind there–

no no not there (you idiot)—

it tastes parts sweet, tempting but then reality crushes; a voice low and familiar, a long-forgotten memory comes in sharp and he can’t breathe and it so painfully tastes like blue darkness. Eyes, wide-open, dark and piercing. Lips, soft, chipped and black staining. Skin against skin, fire carving fury with scratched nails. —Like them.

and his whole body is submerged in a cold freezing ocean. And he is sinking, sinking

he can’t think the air is suffocating his lungs is tight his heart in his throateverything squeezing squeezingstop stop please no no

He crumbles.

the word is trapping, he wants it to go.

It’s screaming. A sharp harsh red that screeches. And he wants it so badly to go.

And it’s— a moment of silence—

come on come one you can do it— one word and he would be free

And he opens his mouth- the word at the tip, come one– only a little push– he has to do it —

but–

only a gasp of air escapes.

No no he can’t, he can’t say dangerous too dangerous

(the memories would come come and eat him leaving nothing but crushed bones) (like before)

Stop. Breathe. Forget.

and he is running, running again

You were sitting beneath a chandelier made of bones. I couldn't make out the shade of your eyes. They must have been purple or the colour of waves just before they crash. I felt the weight of the seven seas which were really just galaxies disguised as the serendipitous moments we respectively mistook for a good time. There is a whole other world beneath your fingertips, the ones that slide gently between women's thighs or smash into the sad buttons of overused pin pads. You're always in such a hurry. You were walking down Hyperion the other night while the streets were empty, feathers jutting out your back. It's Winter in May and I quite love to hate it. You're the type that likes to disappear right when things start to get good, so as to leave on the best note possible. To think of how much more meaningful people's successes would have been had they done the same is to try to find a clean needle on S. Main St. The boys are back together and everyone's in town except it's desolate and nobody gives a damn, but there you are, smiling in the evening wind. As if you planned this from the start. Master architect, traveling salesman, a martyr amongst the desperate, far-from-ragged men of the greater Los Angeles area. Maybe this was a horrible idea. Or maybe it’s perfect.

5/20/19

Filipinotown

We till the soil of ancients

Generations, laid to rest

From whom we are descendants

We breathe their ash and dust

We tread the earth beneath us

Ancestral, hallowed ground

Their blood cries out for justice

Spilled sorrow seeps, resounds

We hope for futures, brighter

Denying truth and past

In hubris, our wills smite her —

“Earth will always last”

One word will spark a fire

Consuming all that’s brass

Her precious gold survives her

The rest, burned up like chaff

6:34 a.m.

Your head in my lap

in a taxi cab home

I traced my fingers

’round the edges of your face

as you closed your tired blue eyes

That morning we made love

for the last time

Ribbons of flesh and blood

smeared on soft Egyptian cotton

I knew it was the end

I knew it before you did

Dear Ryan,

I don't know how to start this letter so I guess I'll just tell you this- I miss you. It hasn't been long since you've been gone, a week and a half on the dot but it seems like I'm -we- are never going to get through this. I know we will though. That's what everyone's been telling me. "It gets better soon."

I heard someone say just a day or so ago that some people aren't here for a lifetime but rather a lesson. And for you, I feel like that is the case. I don't understand why God didn't allow you to stay for a life time and I don't really need to I guess. But you did teach me many lessons in your twenty years.

The first lesson I can remember you teaching me is that I don't need to change who I am for other people. I was only five or six at the time and it has taken many years for this to sink in, but I still remember it clearly. It was a Sunday afternoon and we had just finished lunch. We had been to church earlier that morning like we'd always done. There was a boy there around my age and I liked him. And I wanted to look pretty for him. Now, I was only five or six and not old enough to wear makeup or really have any say in what I wore to church but my soul did I put that lip gloss on. So, we were sitting at the dinner table and Mom breached the subject of my glossy lips. You looked at me, a hint of understanding in your eyes, and I don't really rememeber exactly what you said, but you said something along the lines of, "You don't need lip gloss to make you pretty. And he should like you for the way you are."

The next lesson you taught me was probably when I was eight or nine. There are a lot of memories from these years and it hurts my soul to reminisce about them. But you were teaching me how to play football. I was on your team. It was you and me against Timothy and Abby, our siblings. It was our turn at defense and so far, they had already managed to get the ball twice. You put a hand on my back and turned me away from the enemey so they couldn't hear what you were saying. You hand gripped my shoulder as you whispered in my ear. "You gotta stick to them like white on rice. Like glue." I remeber looking into your eyes and smiling, understanding what you were saying. "Play the ball, not the player." You continued. I nodded and you patted me on the back, practically pushing me back onto the field.

The ball was hutted and I stuck to my man like glue, playing the ball not the player. I never once took my eyes off the ball. The ball was thrown and I reached out, extending my small self and even coming off the ground a little. My small hands grabebd the ball and I caught it, landing back on my feet.

"Interception!!" you announced triumphantly, throwing your hands up in the air. You motioned for me to high five you so I did, joy overflowing my spirit. You told me good job and I laughed out loud, so excited that my older brother was proud of me.

You taught me piano for two years and I absoloutly hated your teaching style. You always seemed to yell at me when I messed up and then Mom and Dad would pay you ten dollars for those twenty minutes of torture. For me, it didn't make sense. Now, looking back on it, if you hadn't of yelled at me as much as you did, I probably wouldn't be as good at the piano as I am now.

I remember going out into our front yard at night and catching lightning bugs and putting them all in one jar, watching them light up and flicker like Christmas lights. We let them go before going back inside and they flew out of the jar like an stars in the galaxy. Some of them were slower to go and I watched as you poked at them, trying to get them to leave the mason jar. We ended up leaving the jar outside all night so they could leave it.

I have many memories with you, Ryan. I remeber going to swim at a friends pool and taking selfies in the back seat. I remember going down a water slide with you because I was too scared too. I remember sledding down a hill with you, and Kyle and wrecking at the bottom. I remember flipping a fourwheeler with you and a friend on the back. I remember you tackling the dog as we played fetch in the field next to our house. I remember you.

There are two memories I have of you recently. The first was at our oldest brother's college graduation. We were to have a party at Pizza Hut afterwards but I didn't want to ride with Mom and Dad. I wanted to ride with you in your car. But... your car only sat five people and there were six of us. But we figured it out. You would be the driver, your girlfriend would sit in the side seat, her friend on her lap, I would be in the back in the middle seat, Timothy -our brother- would be on my right, and Mitch, an 'adopted' brother, would be on my left. Airsoft and BB guns had always played a big roll in our childhood and you just so happened to have four or five of the guns in the back of your car. Timothy discovered them and called Mitch over to see them. And as soon as Mitch saw them, a plan was made. Mitch and Tim were both in the back, both by windows. Both would have guns loaded with ammunition. It was dark so people couldn't see as well and the idea was that Timothy and Mitch would nail the cars as we drove by them or them by us in certain situations. So, we started down the highway, guns readied.

Every shot that was fired, I laughed my head off, the sound of the plastic BB's dinging into the side of the cars. Mitch handed the gun to me and I promptly handed it back to him, not wanting to be in trouble if our parent's found out. We arrived at Pizza Hut and all six of us piled out of the car, laughing out heads off. You shut the door of your car and we quickly headed inside so the elderly couple getting out of their car couldn't see that there were six people piled in a little Pontiac.

The second memory is when you were up over spring break. You and I shared a room as I had to give up my bed for your girlfriend. You were on the top bunk and I was on the bottom. You asked me about my books and I started to talk, to explain it to you. You were impressed and asked questions about the villians, the main characters and their emeotions, and even asked if two of the characters would end up together. You told me you shipped them and then fell asleep as I talked about another book idea. I didn't know you were asleep until I asked you a question and you didn't answer. For a minute or two, I waited in silence, realizing that I had talked you to sleep. You woke up suddenly and asked why I'd stopped talking, apolgizing for falling asleep.

You were a good friend, brother, and role model and it just seems wrong to be living on without you. I know God had a reason when He took you home but for some reason, I feel like I will never know it. If you hadn't been my older brother, I don't think I would be the person I am today. I wouln't be writing book either as you werer one of the few who encouraged me to do so. You promised that you would read my books when I finished them. You'll never get to keep that promise but I promise to never forget you. And I am going to keep that one.

Some people aren't here for a lifetime but rather for a lesson. And you've taught me many. Thank you.

Having you as my brother was a happy occurence and I'm glad I got to know you for thirteen years. It was serendiptious.

We love you Ryan. I love you to eternity and back and it still doesn't seem real. I'll miss you but I will forever love you. Thank you so much for being my brother, Ryan, and I hope I never forget what a good one you where. I love you.

Your sister,

Emily