I look at my reflection, 

and pick out every single imperfection.

I don’t see me,

I see a girl who is afraid,

she doesn’t know who she is

when she looks me in the eyes

her eyes,

opened wide, 

so blue, 

so bright, 

but now they’re out of place

because their colour contradicts

the emotions they depict.

I see every freckle on her face.

I frown,

they’re out of place.

I look away, 

I look again, 

it’s surely a mistake, it can’t be out of place... 

There isn’t a pattern - no design,

not a hint of reason

no rhyme.

The worlds a mess,

that’s just the face I’ve been assigned

I look away, I look again 

there, and there again - 

look,

it’s out of place.

The nose.

The ears.

The mouth.

The chin.

Where the fuck do I begin?

They don’t show you who I am,

they don’t show you what’s within.

I look away.

I don’t want to look again. 

#poetry

My mom used to work in hospitals and nursing homes. Long shifts. Heavy lifting. Clean-up in Room 3. Spilled-guts. Spilled-bowels. Spilled-bladder. Spilled-blood. Human-spill. Spill-spillage. She’d come home to house, nighttime-still. She’d come home to pass-out, lack of sleep. Stumble down stairs, wash away fluids. Wash away E. Coli. Wash away sweat. Wash away death-stench. Pass-out lack of sleep. Repeat, next day. Lift-up crying. Lift-up disease. Lift-up dying. Lift-up human-spillage. Repeat. Lift-up human-spillage. Repeat. The babies never had a chance. Twins. Fallopian-tube, burst. Platelet, internal-vein explosion. Ghost-bleeding. Phantom-bleeding. Insides-bleeding. Also known as hemorrhage. Also known as dying. Also known as 8 hours screaming/fainting/shaking pain. Also known as doctor-induced abort mission. Ride or die. Abort mission or sleep-eternal. No blood left. So I could hold two still-borns. One mass explosion. The other clump of tadpole-mess. Save the unborn. Send the living home. Follow the plan. Return home. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Kill the mother, spare the child. Or spoon-scrape cervix. Tissue-removal. Tissue-removal. And I wake every day thanking the doctor that left her blood-cup-half-full. Pray to false god of saving lives. Return me home. Return me home.

I sleep like a house on fire.

What I mean is

I sleep not at all.

I sleep like the ease of turning away from double-fatalities car crash.

There’s blood in the carpet.

Definitely won’t come out.

Windshield, shivered itself into bits.

And the rafters keep crumbling.

Crumble, crumble, charred-mistakes.

Too much heat to still the bones.

Too much smoke to inhale, exhale, repeat, repeat.

Eyes wide.

Like earthquake tumbles.

Seismic pulse.

Like storm, unpassing.

Like brain-thoughts, tumble-cycle spin, turn-over, spin.

Like end over end.

Eyes wide.

Mattress made of food poisoning to stomach-lining me.

I sleep like it’s vomiting me up.

Or I sleep like I’m vomiting my sleep.

Or I sleep like I’m vomiting myself.

What I mean to say is

I sleep not at all.

Families torn apart,

Children crying for their parents

Tears flowing like the blood spilled,

An unimaginable sense of grief,

The only facet of life

Left behind

Another day, another massacre,

Another heartbreak

An endless nightmare

Created by our own people

Safety, a foreign concept,

No longer guaranteed,

Anywhere

How much must we endure,

For a change to finally occur?

I’m looking out for you.

You’re swirling, twirling golden hair

Gets tangled in wretched lies

I hold the scissors to let you loose

I’m here to help you fly.

I’m looking out for you.

Harris is a foul being

Despite heart-piercing eyes

The popular, horny, doofus -

I won’t sit here and let you cry.

I’m looking out for you.

And yet here you are strolling along

A cheap, maroon carpet of a movie theater

The boy I warned you about in hand

The way he giggles with you, smirks at her

I’m looking out for you.

The minute he touched your soft lips -

Too difficult for me to bear

You’ve disappointed me greatly

I’m frozen, I can only stare.

I’m looking out for you.

He doesn’t deserve you’re charm,

You’re intelligence, thoughtfulness, and grace

He doesn’t deserve you’re cheery smile -

Waking up to see your perfect face.

I’m looking out for you.

And as I’m looking through your window

In a bush - strategically, luckily placed

The world, it spins so slowly, i’m tripping

Why- his existence is such a waste!

I’m looking out for you.

AND CAN’T YOU IMAGINE

THE LIFE WE COULD LIVE

MY WIFE, MOTHER OF MY CHILDREN

OH! WHAT I WOULD GIVE!

I’M LOOKING OUT FOR YOU!

stay sane.

stay sane.

stay sane.

listen to the rain.

I’m going to look out for you tomorrow

And the next day and the next

Or maybe tomorrow we’ll meet

Over coffee, face-to-face, text?

I’ll see you and Harris soon

Be sure to have fun - while it lasts

Because Julie, if this continues any longer

I’ll make sure he’s a thing of the past.

I’m looking out for you.

So tomorrow when I see you again

If you’re feeling sad, lonely, mellow

Just know that someone’s there with you

But be a dear, and look out your window.

I’ll be looking out for you.

She’s French, like the vanilla I used to put in my coffee,

When I liked it sweet,

And sometimes she is too.

But mostly she’s bold like the way I make it now,

Strong,

And as bitter as I am.

She thinks,

And sometimes when she does, her thoughts are like boa-constrictors around her consciousness.

And when they are, I always wish I knew how to kill snakes.

And I promise I’ll learn one of these days.

And

She can pull on my nerves like a puppeteer plays with the strings of their marionette,

Making my heart dance with every finger that brushes across my skin,

Making me melt when her lips meet my neck.

And

She doesn’t smile easily,

But I think that’s appropriate,

Because it’s worth working for,

I would descend into the mines, I’d get into bare knuckle fights,

I’d spend 20 extra years in the workforce just to see it once more.

Not to be dramatic,

And

That’s not to mention what I’d do to hear her laugh,

Enthusiastic and unadulterated,

Magnetic, and confident,

Like the rest of her.

And I’ve never told anyone I love them,

And I don’t think she knows that,

But I doubt it would surprise her,

Because beyond everything else,

I think she understands me pretty well.

She is beauty,

          buried in ashes.

She is joy,

          drowning in sorrow.

She is life, 

          shackled to shadows.

She is free,

           perhaps tomorrow.

Frustration building,

Crackling like static under my skin

Tears flowing from mocha eyes,

Birthed from containing rage inside

Anger steadily mounting,

A violent storm brewing

Always keeping my mouth shut,

My lips locked tight

I fear that someday,

All the lightning and thunder

Will break free,

Pouring down in wrathful reign

I try to calm such feelings,

Stop them from ever bursting,

But, there are days

Where I simply long to scream

Everything, all the anger

And ugliness within,

Erupting for all to see

The eye of the storm,

Revealed

Little catfish, how you swim,

Changing your name on a whim.

The pics you choose are so neat,

A winning smile that can’t be beat.

It’s too bad that they’re not you,

You make your victims oh so blue.

Little catfish, please go away,

Find somewhere else to swim and play.

Still sky

Pure blue

Calm sea

Postcard view

Blue bay

Morning dew

Eternal peace

In a postcard view.