My pump Constant companion Of my disease My sensor Resembles a feeding

Itchy It has to come off Nerves Makes me pick His look

The E’s squeak by The I’s are too excited The U’s come after Q But the A’s and the O’s They flow

I find richness In the mixture In what others disdain Young people lost Between two cultures

If food is poetry The flavors The smells Singing in harmony Is poetry food?

How do you describe A man so dramatic? You can recognize him From afar with his hat Always the gentleman

Clinical smells Polite strangers The only thing worse Than being here Is to not be able

I am a consumer Female Twenties I buy Cheap clothes and lattes