(2014)
My objective is selfish Not to share or be heard To get it out and move on No one seems to hear my pain No one seems to feel my pain
I look away Afraid to see Flicker of nerves In their eye A clench
Dime ¿Qué es su lengua materna? Ni inglés Ni español Sus padres no hablan inglés
To be a true artist Must they be recluses Crazy mad or sick Or even better dead Show me a healthy artist
Bags full of diapers Cars waiting in line Smell coming from the load Ashamed it was mine He noticed my insulin pump
I wallow in my sadness As it pools up It has not swallowed me Who floats above its surface This surface
Water Beach pools and fountains Rivers creeks and waterfalls The sound The feel Floating Weightless
Springtime means Berry pickin’ In warm sun Therapeutic Part of me
If food is poetry The flavors The smells Singing in harmony Is poetry food?
You must commit To an outfit Where are you going? In sporty yoga pants Athletic top
Why can’t I choose to be somewhere in the middle? Surrounded by extremes Measure everything With a grain of salt
I need to tell you How to survive With our disposition It’s okay to cry Maybe
Love is sincere Sincerely Wanting to connect Love makes you crazy Insanity that makes you fly
Clinical smells Polite strangers The only thing worse Than being here Is to not be able
If I could make you smile Just once Sincerity From an appreciative heart It would make all of it worthwhile