My first creative outlet was writing. Poetry specifically. My mind seems to understand placing words in abstract manners before emotionally connecting to them on an intricate level. Will this ever go somewhere? I always thought it would. And then I drifted further and further from writing, until recently when I’ve felt myself pulled back to this.

Welcome to the most readily available connection to who I am as a person, to the most vulnerable I have ever made myself publicly.

Sociexity: A COLLECTION //


Trigger warning: sexual / physical / emotional content. Please read with empathy and not conviction. Much love.



Meditation ceremonies

can’t quiet my mind and I’m always buzzing. I can’t fully comprehend what this new thing is or why I’m resistant.

My priorities are different now. I can’t tell if I’m jaded or realistic or neither. 

There’s beauty in love but there’s also beauty in power, and I feel more powerful when I’m not giving in to the potential pain that comes from love.

Maybe I need to face the fact that I’m terrified. 

Every moment I walk further away from the past the more comfortable I feel with who I am.

I am moving forward.

I’m just moving towards myself and not another. 


Emotional exhaustion

is the most addictive sensation.

Choosing to stay or go back simply

because you have been drained of restraint.

Lines are not blurred. Right and wrong is not blurred.

Returning to abuse is not an admission of innocence.


Another moment passed over me today

where for a second I considered what it would look like if I gave myself to you again.

I always say I don’t have an addictive personality

but I’ve definitely realized I’m addicted to the pain you inflicted on me.

It made me feel like I had a space to belong

where I could be good and feel bad.

Today I know I deserve better.

Today I no longer fall to the addiction.

Today I take a step forward and no more backwards.

I realize my moments of weakness and appreciate them for it means I feel and am human.

But I will move forward because

the more I allow myself to be weak the more strength I give to you. 


I’m still not fully whole.

The newness is exciting and frightening at the same time.

Do you think he was excited by the newness too? 

Or perhaps he liked the parts of me you left damaged?

I’m unsure about what that says about me.

I feel like a trash poet that’s been writing longer than I’ve been doing anything else but it’s still not good enough to be worth reading.

You made me feel invisible.

But my mind in survival mode had started to cherish this.

You made me feel loved.

What does that say about me? That pain tells me we know how to feel? That moments that aren’t accompanied by suffering aren’t fully understandable by my mind that’s so much more comfortable with being hurt than walking away and saying goodbye to people that hurt me?

Should we keep dissecting my mentality or simply let it sit awkwardly and silently in the air..

You don’t hear me.

My words are silent. Like a movie in a foreign language without subtitles. You never fully took me in and when he did I thought I’d never truly understand why I accepted your fake ideal of love.

You don’t need me just like I don’t need you.

Our addiction to each other is under false pretenses like our drugs are placebos we created a mindset of illness.

We are more than each other.

Say that to yourself.



I forced myself

to live like I couldn’t fully feel for a while now. Now that I’m giving myself permission again I feel a little helpless.

Life’s kept going and I’ve kept going but it feels like I’m waking up from survival.

Like moments have continued and I’ve been so happy but it’s been in a state of numbness.

I’m reviving.

Not sure whether to be happy or scared or elated or if I should really truly care because I can’t see yet what I’m capable of and for a little time there I forgot to breathe I was so busy figuring out how to live in a world I thought was a lie.

A world I ran from because of the responsibility of someone else’s lies.

Not sure if I’m strong or so frail that there were points where I doubted if my personality would fully survive and I’m awake and breathing but I’m still a different person. 

Waking up to realize that I can love but maybe not truly and or fully.

Waking up to realize I’m alive but maybe not quite as uniquely.

Waking up to realize you crushed my heart but only because when I gave it to you, you took it so weekly.

Waking up to realize I can love so many and all of a sudden overwhelmed by the need to limit my opportunities.

Waking up to realize I am fierce and strong and loyal and unforgiving.

Waking up to realize this is all behind me and the change I take are all steps forward.

Waking up to realize I am real and my success is real and I have fought for where I am and I deserve it. 

Waking up to realize I am loved and I belong. 

Waking up to realize I am good as I am and I can keep growing. 


One last thought.

I hope you understand that when I reach out to you that is my biggest failure.


With love for all women after the Brett Kavanaugh hearing.

To them but not for them.

To the first man I ever felt that took that moment without my consent.

To the man that moved my sister away when I was 5 cause our community didn’t like that she is BROWN and accused a man that is WHITE.

To the men that told me that what is wrong is right.

To the officers that asked us if it was worth our suffering to take away their futures.

To my father that called me disgusting and told me to lie about what happened.

To the men that put us through this and then called us damaged.

To the school principle that threatened our admission if we told the truth.

To the man that forcibly came inside me and then told me I wasn’t ready to be a mother.

To the man that covered my mouth when I asked him to stop.

To the man that got so rough I was scared to ask him to stop.

To the man that took me in when I had nowhere to go and took it like he owned me.

To the man that made my mother distrust all men.

To the men that read this with doubt.

This acknowledgment is the last bit of satisfaction you’ll get from me.


Someone said I should write to you.

I want to be resistant but you keep showing up in nightmares and you know better than anyone how much they affect me.

Sometimes all I want to do is remind you of how much you destroyed me.

I could take who I was before you and I wouldn’t recognize her. God damn it’s so tough to care. I’m scared to tell people about what happened between us.

I talk about little things that hint at the big picture but don’t even start to eclipse the truth about how badly we treated each other. You know how I said I don’t recognize myself?

I don’t recognize you either and it’s so freakin weird because I thought you were the person I knew best in the world and it turns out I never knew you. I think sometimes I wish that in the future I’ll meet the person I thought you were.

I think we both craved what we imagined in each other.

My mind is stuck on a moment with you. It’s gone but it still stings. When you were angry you used to call me cold, but the way you treated me that night (yes, you know which) I’ve never seen anything colder).

I question my capability to truly love after that.

Sometimes I feel that while I give me all and I care so truly, deeply… that moment hit me so hard with a backlash of trust that I don’t know how I could ever build up that trust again.

I wonder if you know how terrible that feels. That love might never feel the same because in that moment you told me my love for another human would never be enough. You told me I didn’t deserve the purest love.

As a society we don’t talk about this much but I want to be able to talk about it because it’s not something I did easily.

The capability of my body (not yours) to create life is something beautiful, and wile I have every right to decide how I handle this responsibility I feel that my right was torn through my inability to emotionally make a decision, and your inability to show me compassion when I needed it most.

The one part of peace I find is that you are now my past and will never again have the power to alter this decision for me.

I don’t think I’ll ever know if what we shared was truly love, but I do know,

I need to stop looking for an answer.


There’s this way you have

of making me feel like nothing and just like I need you around to make me feel worth something and I know how twisted you’ve got me it’s just that sometimes it feels easier to let you be a part of me then to break you off because I know you’ll take some of me and my pieces aren’t quite shattered but they’re on the brink of shattering and I know this sounds like madness,

and while I’m excited about life all I was every taught to write about was love and all the emptiness inside me.


There’s an ocean

at my feet and the strength I feel is irreversible and yet the addiction you created for me is something I can’t seem to get rid of and my friends say I have a thing for fuck boys,

but I think I just have a thing for you and I keep looking for men with your resemblance and they show me lots of it like how you lacked empathy and I want to scream to you

for destroying my sense of discovery

and instilling a need for the misery and I wish my father had shown me an example of a healthy man that knows how to treat women instead of man that knows nothing about sympathy.

My mind can’t defy the lack of conviction I have when someone tries to hurt me it’s like I’ve been numb to pain and part of me craves it just so I can feel another night instead of feeling nothing and while I know I’ve got to move forward instead of backwards you keep pulling me into a place where I want you.

Suns rising and another early mornings gone to waste where I’ve thought of the person that at one point in my life had me held by throat warning me that if I moved it might just be the end and you loved to torture me like grains of sand evolving I dissolved at your touch and thought that wrong was okay in the view of our life and we are broken together and you had me convinced that it was better that way but I know now that I’m suffering in a newfound exploration of inner humanity

and I need to find release in a new way that’s a little less damaging. 


I see your imperfections

as perfect, and you see mine as a distraction. You melt me. Make me feel like tearing myself apart. You got me this book to show your love. But all it did is bring the pain back.

I can’t write anymore. My words have been taken out from so much pain. I can’t dream anymore, I’m not sure what it feels like to live freely again.

There’s a gust of darkness I feel when I’m near you.

But I like it.

You asked me if we’re machinists. What if I said yes.

He broke me apart when he showed me he wouldn’t fight for me. You fight for me. But you hurt me first. You fight for me after I’ve been so clearly broken.


There’s a beautiful world

in my view and while you made my world so ugly we always knew how to share the moments of  impressiveness with each other. Remember that one night we watched the stars in Canada and you said you’d never experienced something so beautiful, you told me you felt so connected to me.

I remembered why I loved you and then the next morning I saw the text you sent her about how you wished she had been there to experience this moment with you and I just couldn’t seem to shake that text out of my head and it’s been years since then and I don’t know if I’ll ever truly forgive you or trust another man when

he says a moment is owned by us.

Two sharing a world is always intrusive from what you showed me I truly hope I can let go and let another man love me and that he’ll be able to do it faithfully

because right now to me love feels like an impossibility I can’t let go of a moment in time when you scarred through me like a passage I need to erase from my memory to feel whole again and yet

somehow you’re still the one that made me feel most alive.

You’re the ocean at my feet and yet you still want to drown me.

I went swimming last night in the pitch black sea and I swear I felt your fingers grasping at my throat hoping you’d watch me forget how to breathe like that last time we had sex in our home you pushed me down and didn’t let me move I tried to stop you and ask you if this was really how you wanted to remember me but you were so far past conviction I saw in your dark eyes there wasn’t a single thing I could say to stop what you’d already started and as a woman I felt so weak because I wasn’t even strong enough to fight a man that had so much conflicted hatred towards me and I always knew how much you loved me but weren’t willing to see and in that moment you could only be an animal to me and I need to remind myself that men aren’t all the same

like I used to tell my mom when she’d tell me all men want one thing.



used to come naturally but this digital world has taken over me as if not much else matters and I feel stuck and just a little broken because I miss the person that broke me and yet that can’t seem to have been quite enough for the huge amount of pain I feel even though I’m in the happiest moments of my life. Can’t seem to swallow what it means to live a life without you and yet I keep writing you off for not letting me be.

I taught myself to breathe when I was with you and I think that now your breaths are haunting me.

Each moment of reminiscing a song feels like broken cries in the dark and I can’t help but remember when you hit me and then after I felt so alive and at the same time all I was wanted to die. 

This is how broke I am.

How broke we were. I keep thinking in my mind if we just ran away we might be okay it always seemed like life was after us and if we were alone all the pain and damage would fly away but life doesn’t work like a record machine and I know the scars we have don’t allow us to play even if there’s no one to get in between these issues we have are toxic and created by years of ruthless lies. We abused each other. No doubt. The insane part is that like any abusive relationship one person ended up the worst and we just can’t seem to agree on these details and I’m so terrible at being upfront about what we went through. When you told me you wanted nothing to do with the life you created I felt like everything I had ever been worth all of a sudden meant nothing and everything I had worked for the years to come meant nothing because if it hadn’t happened then it would have happened in our future and you weren’t willing to deal with the consequences. I feel like me saying that is a blow to both of us and I know it hurts you but I lived through the vulnerability of the moment and just like the lilies we lay in the sea for our baby

I know that we’re dead and there’s no oxygen left for you and me.


Surround lust with chaos

because I’m into it.

Excitement and rush.

The adrenaline captures me.

My darkness is your temptation.

But you know just how to lure me in.

Confuse me with hurtful rhetoric.

Because I know you better.


You spun me

in this circle called life. Confused my thoughts. I lost all train of...

You were the hard part. Not losing you.

That was too easy.


It became indistinguishable.

Like a drug thrown in the fire so that it’s just too late to inhale. Like alcohol in a mother that can’t quite control her anger. Like a father, walking away for the tenth time to no avail.

You taught me to love, and you taught me to feel pain. I’m mixed up inside. I’ve done so much growing yet I’ve got so little to gain.

We moved on.

We moved forward.

Society taught us to love one another, then to leave. Now we’re back as if we can have each other again, but hate doesn’t leave so quickly. I’ve surprised myself. I didn’t believe in second chances and I gave you a million.

I want to see you survive pain like the kind you put me through.

You’d probably rather starve yourself than face the truth the way I do. I’ve got fear for creating life, fear of creation. We might have made something so much more alive than the combination of us together. Like stricken rain falls in a city that never shines, your smile lights up, when you see I’ve got love still inside. But love, combined with hate, combined with pain, is not the kind of love you want. Your blame, my hate, it’s seriously a fucking lot. Like drugs being thrown in the fire, burning up, searing up the darkness.

We’re drugs to each other,

like we can’t let go of an addiction we both made for all the right reasons and all the wrong feelings.

Fall asleep with each other again, it’s been nearly a year.

Fall asleep, to nightmares, the ones you made me fear. 


Rise me up higher

than sunshine cause candies not so sweet when its not just yours or mine. We’ve got days in our pocket from forgetting about next steps,

you’ve showed me how to move on even though I’m not quite over you yet.

Let’s create like we’ve forgotten how to live.

Let’s create like it’s the only thing we’ll one day remember about each other like kites that fly away without holding onto one another. Minds of children, we know you’ll miss us. We’ve shared moments I can’t express, moments that mean nothing and yet so much. I had a nightmare the other night, I couldn’t tell you because of the past but you held me, like you knew everything I’ve been through even when I’m so silent.

I felt seen.


There’s white in your eyes like drugs

fading in the darkness.

Is sobriety part of the test? You lashed out at me as if I was that darkness. We felt cold and silent all at once. Silent from questioning and fear.

Your fear. My questioning.

Then the other way around. Like bills have been spread like wildfire because we’re not able to compensate the time wasted on each other like it’s hot coal under the sand - invisible to the eye but scorching on your hand. We fell from darkness into light that’s impossibly bleak. Fog and light. I honestly hoped from more within those dark eyes of drugged sweetness. The irony comes from another man that accused me of your very deed. Looking into the death within those eyes I know I would not be capable of such darkness. My darkness toils inside from memories and pain and guilt but not from an administered substance. Like weeds that grow in abandoned homes you’ve been taken over like the streets of Detroit I once roamed oh so innocent. Take me back to those times of innocence with your sweet and deadly smile. Veins smothered in darkness. Light from the impossibly deep fog. Imagine a contradiction within itself like the light meant nothing. Imagine letting the darkness go for someone oh so worth it. An audience watches silently judging and accepting the questions like they fell from heaven to hell at your feet.

A man so sweet.

A man so broken.

Drugs in your veins like the soil I dig deep to push down those memories of watching family members crash without needing substance. My addiction rests in the forbidden act of being hurt for an overly lengthy period of time. In staying safe when they try to hurt us, in accepting responsibility for everything and everyone. For sharing love even when they did not deserve it. For hurting when I did not deserve it. For letting go of forgiven fires when they’re burning inside. For forging war on someone whose heart is impossibly dark inside like love is not possible and trust is blind.


I've forgotten to write

like you forget the breeze on your face, until spring comes again and you find yourself breathing. I've lost sight of raw emotions, yet my emotions are so raw I can't seem to find the actuality of them.

We create fear as humans,

fear for others,

fear for ourselves,

fear for our lives.

We create fear when love accomplishes so much more.

I feel drained from movement. Drained from movement like the water swirling down the sink as I brush my teeth. It's gone in an instant, like starting fresh, like dawn of day. I've forgotten to write. My words feel stale and silent and drained. My words sound bored and slightly reminiscent. We've forgotten to dream like children afraid of nightmares. Sentenced to time alone in bed while shadows look like monsters and creeks sound like men walking up the staircase. I remember childhood dreams. Childhood dreams that ran from me in the morning. Childhood dreams I still see at night. Because the crash of personality falls upon us when we are most broken,

and we see ourselves most when we are the most broken.

I feel blame for lacking inner perspective. Blame for losing the sense of self I've never quite felt. Strength when the sun rises, sadness when the sun sets, and questions, throughout the night. For I find solace in the quietness of no TV, and yet fear turning it off to hear the silence. 


It feels

like cold breeze. The kind you can't stop from running through your hair, cold breeze that stings like frostbite in the cold night. In reality, it hurts so much more but we're fearful to explain this kind of pain. It's shameful, it's a disgrace, we rarely call it by its name. I have scars on my body, not by it, but for it.


A whirl of broken thoughts,

hopeless dreams, and previous suffering. Let go of those mysterious thoughts little one, time moves on. If only I had a father that paid attention to my mood and a boyfriend who’s daughter was also my own. 

If only love were not some cease and desist warning I keep above my stove just in case I have to go back to doing it all alone. I’m not afraid of loneliness, I’m afraid of the next time around when I make the same mistakes and forget all the things I taught myself in the first place. 

I’m afraid of lying in the dark too scared to move or breathe because someone out there, might possibly have forgotten about me.  

The lack of forgiveness.

The lack of empathy.

The sadness grows like mangos on the tree and I go searching for the slightest bit of sweetness. Sweetness that taste like love on a branch and I’m so far gone they won’t find me at all. When love caught me up I was blind in a storm of dust. So blind I couldn’t see I was falling in love with someone who wasn’t ready for someone like me. 

Too blind to see I wasn’t ready to fall in love with someone who actually loved me. 

Love is blind they say and we’ll weep at night while your frustration comes out through anger and a blind temper. Blind vision portrays hatred instead of joy and I’m quivering in fear, you might not have the kind soul I labeled you for. My kind soul disappeared years ago - I notice I scowl now and yet I used to be so happy. He called me his sun child. I smiled and laughed like a child should. He told me to be happy. With you I thought I found real happiness but I now see that love is not happy it’s blind. Now I see that love is a struggle, a fight, maybe the reason I tattooed my body with a slogan that means we are all fighters because we all love, and we all love because we are all fighters. I truly now decipher the meaning of the words on my skin, like a blind pen I wrote in ink when I was too young to understand. 

But now I see. 


We create a life of air. 

A journey. Breathe in and out. We surround ourselves with empty air, promises we once spoke of, but never renounced. Creative luxury, distant, like the faint scent of dust. We believe in reoccurring nightmares. I woke from one in my sleep. Darkness invades the hope of tomorrow, we forget that time moves at rhythm - forever aching, forever stalling.  A book was opened, re-written, scratched out. A book was opened, and read out loud. As children we read tales and think of gods. As adults, we loose our imagination. I have found a world of silence - the wind blows, the ocean sways - there’s calm in my step and your breath alerts me. There is silence. Do you understand silence? Can you create silence? We once sat sitting in a chain coffee shop for 3 hours - talking about life. Do you remember what it feels like to talk about life? As if from a distant, not everyday. I was told about stories I could repeat back - and then the memory fades. A book closes, a book is read, a child falls asleep. Nightmares gone, the worlds aligned, a moment of peace. We create moments, moments of life. We create symbols, an alphabet, specialized and pieced together into a million disastrous pieces of glass. We have the glass, and paint it on our arms. A symbol of spoken word - no longer legible. A child once was, an artist - she spoke the language you dare to breathe. I’ll sit back and think about happiness. Quietly, thoughtfully, slightly reminiscent. Our happy days are still before us. 


At times

they find they flatter themselves with incentives.  A distant sobriety once acclaimed as a reborn kind judged the diversity of the situation from an illusive standpoint of drugs as a bystander.  Wither far from the truth to gain consciousness.



of divisional territory seems a strange entity for us to be faced with, yet the one decision remains. Delicate and unbalanced to perfection, as if perfection were a creation we both tread upon.  Strangely identified as a devastating separation while our own reunion walks lightly upon stones of pure hatred.  He spoke of madness as if a sickness arose from him.  The tormented souls of breathless dreams scorned the revision of the treaty.  Possibly evaporated into a sinister smile of cruelty.  His voice echoes as if coldness radiates from him, yet the sun will come again.  This creation was one of many, yet her own belief system crushed the revolving possibility of a lifestyle she desired.  They consorted to violent threats as darkness fell and stars filled the bedroom ceiling.  Watched the roof with an emotion of vengeance still unrecognizable.  The daughter lay quietly on a bed full of sand.  


A delusional entity

feels all to real and I become afraid I may be dreaming.  Countless thoughts of sleepless nights and warm touches that fail to recall reality.  The one time he broke down for a formidable plan of intelligence leaked within a democratic mentality.  Secretly envious of one's touch when the thought was previously unnoticed and quite pure. Dark lights circle and a timely path finds an allowance within the rectangular structure.  An image of possibility releases itself within the mind and the fear of a pertinent roundness overwhelms all other consideration.  These creations of happiness have formed a concept we find quite welcoming, yet vastly irrelevant.  Sadly storming around like a misconceived decision to hurt others when torment begins and the sun surely fades into a dark surrender of wildlife.  Redeemed for only one where the industrious revisitation to false memories begins.  Beautifully invisible for the pledge of consideration becomes a remark on an answer that has been formed without question.


They became drunk

for the touch wielded led a fear so wound up the entire family lay tormented in a huddle.  She heard him speak and fell prey to the many disadvantages it had wielded.  A sly tongue, a smart eye, and a kind soul: a surprising outlook upon the situation and devised a decision once deemed inappropriate.  



at a formulated conversation devised within a mind incapable of making coherent decisions.  Terminated risk falls upon a prey of advantage as they stroll softly by without worries.  The lack of cares creates a strength unbounded by no one, frequently considered and always impossible.  These very cares creating a reaction of high frequency trembles within a sovereign mentality.  Beautifully repugnant his smell stays a distant memory in the foregone brisk air.  


Sentences gathered by a couple words

of unremarkable kindred thoughts.  Sent across space with the intelligence span of a worthless question that leads nowhere.  Five others gathered around a device of reception, awaiting the same remarks and there is no intimacy.  Quietly receptive of an impossibility.  Yet this notion of confidence awaits the idea, unreasonably sure with the temperament of an ocean storm.  The one understood the means of communication yet still lies a silent personality within the previous means of destruction.


Begin to acknowledge

a new sort of being.  A being accomplished within a redundant self.  One that believes in happiness and trust.  A belief system built off of reality and not another mans treasure.  

We are not human but creatures of betrayal.  

A harsh word later and we lie cursing in disgust surrounded by a pool of filth.  The filth their bodies lay in without remorse, and yet mine to the touch is disgusted.  So heartedly wrenched that I fear stepping back to be an impossibility. 


We drifted away

into a billion questions of insufferable damage.  A voice forgotten for days resurrect into the timid air and become silent.  A silence that seems to remain unbreakable for years.  Stubbornness warranting attending and desire.  A desire built on the drought of childhood we were put through.  Dispensable and unacknowledged children, hidden in the back of a pick up truck for weeks at a time.  Various hotel visits with sea ridden pools and small beds.  Days and nights becoming so dark they are one, until one drunken night the speeding becomes an issue and we have one last stop.  A dirty room, a cold shower, and multiple fights later we are ridden with an illustrious anger so forthcoming it may never disappear.  I may think of graves and futures but the thoughts of moments are not possibly disappeared within a short appearance of temper.  A thermometer confirms a true sickness and hospital beds become overridden with fake phone calls and dyslexic letters.  We may die a fate of life one day.


Migraines of insanity

follow his footsteps for he tends to ask for you.  

Surround his irregularities as moments of tenderness turn dark and cold.  

Forgive the irrigation of satire seduction and question instead the need for dyslexia.  We might avoid a nighttime of happiness as the transformation to a silent and slightly deadly occurrence re-invents itself.  A delusion of secrecy folds over the table as the candles burn to the last bit of wax, a finger in the fire, and throw it on the floor.  They have discovered you.  

We have discovered.  This play is irrational.  



my love for we have fallen.  Washed ashore on a cold winters day.  Battered and awaken with stars for lighting, for sadness has passed away. Detriment of delicacies feign a sovereign of balance.  Questionably close to the spoiled surface they find their grace in silence.  A delightful climb from the well leaves them wading in darkness. Darling I'm not well she spoke as she ascended.   


Cleanse your soul

and body for you are one soldier.  Cleanse your thoughts and nightmares for they see you as you are.  Rejoice in luxuries the blind hear at night and wander as the birds chirp at dawn.  Revel in love soldier for you are one with the world.  

Conquer forgiveness man for she has left you.  

Forgive sadness as she will not return and you have been left with a plate still full of desires.  Desire her soldier for she is gone.  Weep at night for you have no one, the night is dark and surly and you will question the grace of the moon.


Dream not of tonight

for tonight is not ready for a steady dream of laughter and sadness.  When they dream they will see children as they weep and the skies will rain for a month to come till the children dream of sun and sadness.  Weep the children for the day the stars will fall like blankets on mars and the earth will be yet a cold blanket of escape with which people once sought a rain of blackness.  Fear not children of vanity nor time the time will come regardless.  Fear not people you'll rejoice in the sun one day as if one with madness.  Fear not rain will come with when the sun has gathered its prayers and the children weep with thoughtfulness.  Fear yet earth as the day will come the stars are black with sadness.


The figurative

limbs struck out below as if my own weight might precede them, envelope them, and discard them.  We seemed to believe we had a subjective power to their strength, yet their remorse was overwhelming and crushed us without a twinge of guilt.  We were captivated by the power we saw, and while afraid, it seemed more seductive then the fear of peril.  Beseeched by this need for sanity we overstepped the ability to die, to become nothing, together.  Death at once seemed immanent yet so far away, they seemed nervous that it would not come soon enough.  I wondered how we might rush it without risking the death to disappear altogether.  


They spoke to me

as if I were one with them and they one with I.  My previous annotation of myself as a liar seems in peril, and I feel worried that I have lost my motivation to speak for others, when I have realized I can only control myself.


He took a picture

and hid it in his desk until next time she refused and he confessed about that picture he took so she'd fuck him again.  


He reads:

pain and anger are not real, they only exist in a separate world of mine where I’m alive.

And his journals filled with sweet little prayers of love and betrayal and I swore vengeance upon them.  

I swore I’d never read them not by choice but the illiteracy through which he wrote without sensible words.  

I cursed them as I wrote and looked back upon my books to see my fathers look just like mine.  


Ignoring the fact

that cancer started with a cigar he started smoking as a child just like we smoked when we were children because they hid us in back rooms to keep us quiet.  


Cultural background

biased from the skin wrapped around the body creating color as we speak because eyes have an ability to adapt. Percentages creating acceptance as though religion were created through improprieties instead of background and intermittence.  Their personal objectives as a certain society of mixed incentives from the allure of shampoo commercials as if hair color dye were the natural iridescence of a beautiful child. 



for money as if jobs solved hunger and these people are standing in stores and in malls and in empty apartments calling modern appliances their reasons for happiness.  Those people watch us as we sleep on the street, and they keep asking why we keep picking up sweets when they dropped them long ago.