I wanted confessions
And Vulnerabilities in bottles
That would be set sail,
On tears and tomorrows.

Sand made your Guns lock;
The stars would soon follow
Our imminent discourse
Of loves lost, and sorrows.

Before us great oceans
And lands full of snarls
We went without shoes
Or even our towels

We failed quite miraculous
You tripped, and I followed
And left broken our bottles
Which then cut us hollow.

“Please come down from the roof;
Clinging to the chimney has only made you filthy
Please, take off your muddy boots
I’m quite comfortable here, and I don’t need it dirtied”

Please blow smoke from your lungs
It may give this curse a purpose
Instead of leaving us with nothing.

Please, take hope in what’s unknown
Since explaining this happening
Has left me wholly empty

Please, take that road;
If it promises life forever
Because I know your box of sorrows
As well as if it was my own

I hold your tears inside my heart
I wait for joy to be known
I understand, not quite as well
But almost, that you’re scared;
Because you are my definition
Of everything that is unfair.

for my sister.

Your dimples stopped showing
And the numbers started growing.
They added to the odds
Against you being happy

One, one, two, three
And a sum grew due to Fibonacci
Except it wasn’t a shell
Or row of seeds in a flower

He made his number more,
He made it much higher
He counted the cells, he multiplied
And made evil that would take another man’s life

So your smile stopped glowing
And your world became this;
The cancer inside him,
Ate at your soul instead.

I am white
Not from purity
But from fear
I am justified
Not from suffering
But from grace
I am tiny
Not from starving
But from all my failings

Idioms
What good are they
They only tell me what I know
They tell me “it’ll be okay”
But time is not the greatest salve
It has not healed my wounds
Time is just a variable
That crushes and dilutes
The Glass Menagerie had it right
When speaking of the memories
And romanticism when stripped away
Leaves nothing but hysterics, see?

I am but a dove
Named a pigeon
Because I fit that hole
And because
The grace afforded me
No one wants to try and see
I’m the dirty bird
Cooing in the ally way
I find no shame
In stealing crumbs
And leaving waste
I am not the lovely one
Draped with peace and olive trees
I am just the other one
Left alone in this great city

I’m myself the most when I’m walking down the avenues
I’m the best I am when the it rains not water but colors instead
There’s nothing wrong with me or you
When the scenes are snarled trees, and headstones loom
I want uneven side walks, rotten cornerstones and crooked steps
I wanted yellow red and orange and the smell of plants before death
I’m myself the most when I am listening to music that moves me
When there are no numbers, long reports or strengths I must determine
Happiness is the breeze, so light that leaves flutter instead of fall
And I’m completed by the earth and dirt and limbs
That make me forget what’s fake
And remember that real is not always pain and hurt
But also joy and notes and naive children laughing