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Lonely woman, harsh concrete

Living as is, bikes are problematic

Nakedness gets you — get out

I heard the hello drop like a hot potato

I didn’t even smile

 
Guilt, groundless emotions

feeling your alien feelings

I always carry cash; I left

my wallet — insert the inaccessible

 

I pledge such deep compassion

But wretchedness leaks in through

the attitude, through reinforcement,

proof — poof, your anger intrusive, invasive

Perverse let me ins and objects never nice

Noticed too often and never enough

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A brief understanding 

Lazy Monday shadows

Put perspective on its edge

Even sun specs give life 

To the dancing dust 

That darkness forbids 

Even movement 

scattered on the wall

Will sway in an instant 

And change alongside 

the chemicals in your brain 

Even the sleep marks 

On your face

Will fall and fade

Before the light will decide

Where to go next 

Genesis

The sun broke this morning

what should have been dawn turned to a cry

for upkeep. From the streets it was audible,

loud and clear; ringing all the way to my core

There was a gnawing in my belly

but the gloom held me down as the earth shook with laughter

Darkness kept me still as I tried to bargain

My voice fell flat but I could hear rain outside the window

At least I know that we’re still turning

 

 

 

Modus Operandi

I wait another second, the thought dies away                  Three, four, six, seven, nine

Everything is fine

Delicate creatures ripped to shreds 

Before they reach the forefront 

Hocus pocus,   a tattooed locust

Nothing ever really quiets the madness

Nothing is real

All of us take the stage
overflowing with sweet nonsense
Delusional eccentricities
poach our collective memory of uniform
Leaving our dopey grins,
our “I can change everything” hearts
We are not programmed to fathom – everything
loses texture
Being idle creates a fog
Nothing can kick in but the smoke
Our audience is sick and dismayed,
they can’t even tell us apart

Dreamy Ambivalence 

I woke up on a train and I was baffled by all the things I didn’t know                           Losing my goodbye, I cried

I didn’t know I had to go 

You pushed me out the back door and you kissed the knees you skinned                            My black eye even held a key for you                You kissed that too and it haunted me

You held me so sweetly                                    You pretended to break                               Hurt by me, hurt by all the things you couldn’t heal                                                         I sunk straight into your eyes, just like you wanted

My reluctance made you the sacrifice Leaving me to find my own map        But what’s a map when you don’t know where you started 

Purgatory is worse than hell

You beat me

To a conclusion 

Disgrace

Locked away, living in a bulbous shell

The one I built special

Just for me, justified self-degradation; absolute bullshit

I always need to disappear,

as if anybody else cares about the subtle           disparities

I watch myself so closely

Yet there is so much I am willing to overlook,

I am a monster

I don’t know where I’ll start

If I ever want to try to stop

Elaborating on something real for once 

Sometimes I’ll get really lost in numbers, trying to use them to measure my worth. I’ll start to fixate, organizing myself, my character, my accomplishments, etc. into compartments. I have to stop myself and take a grand sweep backward, seeing the whole picture and accepting it at face value to understand the danger in the numbers game.

My mother taught me that being kind and good to all life is where the real merit lies.

Hank taught me that the power of independence is greater than any box dwelling.

The California Sunshine taught me the importance of leaving the familiar; you can always go back but investing time in the enigmatic “Other” keeps “Room” from narrowing your mind. 

It is so vital to feel, and to feel it all, taking into account the fluidity of every one of these feelings. They cannot be quantified. Our minds are too beautiful and complex to allow for numbness and atrophy. I value myself and I do it because I love the whole world. I value my art because it comes from my honest work and no one has a say about that except for me, even when my thoughts are lavish or wholly ridiculous. 

I am me and that is the most critical thing to be.