Flower petaled bruises,
circle the iris of your eyes,
ivory colored smoke leaving lungs
that wished they didn't breathe.

"It's a slow suicide,"
a cigarette flicked to the side,
the ash like my mind,
falling to the ground.

Scents of smokes and blokes,
blood runs thick on the face
of a thin mind.


I open sixteen eyes.


Awareness gained with each year,
your senses awaking them.


I will remember.

My mind asleep, now awake, parched of knowledge.
I gulp down your image,
your name,
an address,

all in hopes of just that; hoping.

Hoping that you will not remember,
hoping forgiveness is not too far off...

Remember honey,
















I  A M    A L W A Y S   W A T C H I N G.

The best kind of cold,
overtakes the forest tonight.
Chilling to the bone,
dripping wet leaves surround me in perfection.

Trees stand high,
but hoodies pulled almost closed keep me warm.

I am alone,
but the ghost of company remains...

My dad started smoking again,
my mother is yelling again,
a sister so distant and in tears,

and I have to wonder
if my chaotic return of energy
was the reason for dispute
and not
the other way
around.

Bathe in the stars,
ineffable beauty,
and cry like the cosmos.
Constellations of your beauty
gather crowds by the thousands
every year,
just so they can get a glimpse of you.

Milky way smiles,
align the planets
just for you.

Bathe and bask
in moonlit glory,
as you are one with the universe,

and the universe's beauty
is one
in
you.

There will be those who scorn the sun
for how bright it shines,
do not allow fools
who still admire sunsets
after berating you
to dim you down.

Your ever flowing grace
I have met
only in stranger's faces
in pure joy
as they enjoy
a meteor shower.

Whoever reads this,
remember...

you are one with the universe,

and the universe's beauty
is one
in
you.

Your words are taken
by listening ears,
and thrown out of
unlocked mouths.

Paper holds ink promises
staining it forever,
for attentive eyes to see.

Phone's hold secrets
with cryptic passwords
until a friend strays from
the playground of your games
to the notes of your misery.

Nowhere is safe, hide all you wish,
the only place where secrets hide deep
is the mind.

Plain and simple,
keep it all in
until it escapes
or let it all out
before the world
pries in
to
see.

Ambition is written in her silhouette.
Grace flows from her evanescence.
Her shadows are the key to her intellect.

But then again that's all she is,
isn't it?

A mirror of perfection
a voice with inflection.

The ghost of who she is
is all
that's
left.

I have traded my youth,
for 'education'.

Joints lecture bursts
of pain to show me
that running from class to class
with heavy backpacks,
I still have not learned my lesson.

Mindless memorizing mimics
magical and mysterious minds,
manipulating math,
a subject destroyed,
by it's very creators.

I take notes on how to
spend late nights
crying over spilled ink,
papers all ruined,
hours of work...
I sigh and start from the top.

Eleven exams, then 7 finals, then FSA's,

No, these numbers are all real.
To the adults who took their turn
in cheer leading outfits of the 1990's
I beg for you to count
with the same system I learned,
how many more hours I need to study,
how many exams I have left to go.


I almost forgot my birthday this year,
because midterm season,
was the only 'surprise!'
I expected.

I ache as I write,
Say I exaggerate all you wish,
But my poems are begging to be structured like essays,
as this stanza turns into a counterpoint.

My freedom of thought
I eat at lunch,
seated between friends,
eating their childhoods all the same.


To conclude:
School *****,
I am grateful it builds character(s),
but how many more
mindless
slaves
does this world still need?


Count with them with the same system I learned...
Your coworkers,
your wife,
your husband,
the mirror.

How many more,
tell me,



how many more?

If the system is made
for us
to be put against one another
we will rise
and come together
in the dirtiest, most scandalous,
cheatiest ways,

to beat it.

Morality will not hold us back,
but be our compass.

Because at times,
one must be rebellious
against your version of "right"
to do the actual right thing.

Cage us and we will fly,
break us and we will  not die.
Believe me,

they cannot outlive nor outrun us.

Remember the fallen,
and when it is overthrown,
make them martyrs of
the new generation.

Trap us as you want,
but you cannot bind
a bird's wings
and
expect
obedience.

You cannot trap us
and not expect

rebellion.

Hope is the enemy,
veiled with white wings.
It wears rose colored glasses,
and wears
sundresses
next to the moon.

Hope is a friend,
that you must not trust.
For in hope there is beauty,
but action,
there is none.

Hope is now a lover,
so close,
skin stained with my kisses,
ecstasy waits just below her
smile.
Cherry red lips,
I'm losing myself
in her
new
sundress.

Hope is a stranger,
an old love gone cold
to the touch.

Hope is the enemy once again,
but will you learn to tame her once more?

Or will she be your one that got away.

I find no comfort in the touches of strange,
the lies I read,
in their future
etched into their palm.

The eyes I can not decipher,
I find nothing beautiful
about that shade of green,
it sickens me
that her eyes,
I've found in another's.

Pour out to me a milky soul,
I cannot see its depth,
Some may find this uncertainty
exciting,
but to dive wholeheartedly
into the abyss...




Tell me, where you shocked when it hurt you?

I do not blame you,
for every person I meet
has a mist hiding their
intentions.

Everyone is a stranger.

The question now is

Are you afraid to live life alone?

Your skin is stained glass,
all different colors.
Where one vibrant red ends,
a shining yellow begins.

You are not broken, shattered on the floor,
but rather,
separate pieces of stained glass,
set separate to behold;

apart they are meaningless beauty,
together they are fruitful art.

A stained glass soul,
where art blooms at the color of her skin,
and realities blinding light
becomes diluted imagery
once more.

I'm finding guilt
underneath the carpet's
edges
as I dust them there.

Deal with it later,

pushing away emotions like meals,
promising myself to finish them off
but ending up throwing the scraps
of whats left of me
to the dogs.

And that's all I am aren't I?

Pieces of meat to be flung at the hungry
take parts of my soul like parting gifts
thoughts like unwelcomed house guests.

But who am I to stand on this ground
and claim it to be my own?

I belong to those who control me,
making statements
"Skirt too short"
"Hair unkempt"
"Too big"

With every bitter bite
in their sentences
a chain is added
to my collar.

Make me obey,
simply because if I was too free,
what fear would it cause you?

Passion or anger I know not the difference anymore.
I pick up pieces of shattered glass
And set them aside
like a puzzle
not worth putting together.

I don't know who I'm angry at anymore.
Myself for not dealing with these feelings earlier,
or the bitter call to obedience I answer?

Tame me once more,
and my bite will not go away,
but simply be domesticated.

And with those thoughts I leave you,
dare to cross me again,
and I will not wear your collar,
with prideful ambition
as I once did.

My mother keeps flowers in shot glasses,
feeding off the *****.

Drunkenly, they sway in the breeze that passes by.
Blushing petals encompass good times.

God forgive me
For taking comfort in
Forbidden fruits.

I cant help
But adore the nectar
That drips off her
Soul.

Dribbling down her chin,
A smile sweeter than honey.
Eyes matching sweet deception.

Her personality a seed,
A pit of solidarity.

Hair finer than
Ambrosia's droplets
Streaking down the golden
Goblet
Body.

Oh forgive me Lord.

For partaking
In a woman so sweet.
And taking a bite
Of her forbidden fruit.

Emotions wash over me like waves,
sandy imprints
left in my memory,

Of that one summer day
where we broke the rules
like seashells snapping
underneath our feet.

We blind ourselves
from the blazing sunny truth
just for a while with sunglasses.

We can take them off anytime,
but prefer to keep them on.

Sipping on sadness soda,
but enjoying every bit of it.

Darling, leave your shoes at the door,















there's no room for that sand in future's home.

Holy pure angels,
tell me,
is Hell where you seek refuge,
once you've slipped out of Heaven?
Or is that the name of Earth,
after you took a visit?

Broken is broken,

whether it is a crack,

or shards on the glass floor.

I am the moon monster.
I hide under the bags in your eyes,
Holding them at gunpoint,
Threatening them
To close.

The pillow and bed like food and water,
I deny and deprive
You of your daily intake.

A paper on the film industry under communism
Steals an hour
For every
Word
Counted.

Crave sleep with your soul,
Smell the decadent cool
Crisp
Comforting
Cocky in their perfect folding,
Sheets.

I watch them mock you,
And in their creases,
I hide a smile.

Drooping faces
Wishing you were sinking into
A bed
Rather than
Into a frown.

The clock ticks like the cogs
Working in your cranium
Late night carnivores
Mouth watering
Like melting Neptune’s blue hue.
Stripping your need
Bone-licking naked.

I hear an audio recording of my mother,
“What are you doing up so late?”
Her response echoing
In the craters of the moon.

How many late-night papers
Will I feed the beast?
One for every late night
Rogue,
Feasting on the starlight,
Making wings from the feathers
Of their pillows.

Dip your cookies into the milky way,
Sweet temptation,
You cannot get enough.

For every stressor,
We find a rebel.

Who finds a friend
In the void,
Calling
Every night
To make sure
He is ok.

Gluing their wings together with
The power of supernovas
And plasma,
“Icarus, the stars cannot hurt you here.”

I am not the moon monster to them,
I am the feathered friend.
That turns into an alarm clock
The next day.

Because for every pleasure there is pain.
And for the night there is a price.

You must make strangers with the day,
Suffering through sleepy temptations
That Mr. Smith refuses to acknowledge.

You can hear drunk wavelengths
Calling on you to answer
What the ***** of x=3 is,
Your answer
Remains undefined.

Slip stuttering conversations
To friends at lunch
Under the door
And you will be allowed to sleep
No longer.

Your grades will suffer,
Your parents,
As scornful as the sun.

But Icarus,
Do not fly near it.

Wait till I come.
Your moon monster
Will feather you, friend.
And you will be free,
Once again.