tell me what you want to hear
and baby i will write you the universe.
-a.c.b

it's true, what i said...
the way you look at me
makes me feel like
i am enough.
-a.c.b

you may think i look like a dream
but baby you're the best one i've ever had.
-a.c.b

we are all but the same,
a cacophony of liars pretending
we are special, we are different,
false sentiments echoing through
cavernous laboratories
where a trail of clones in white jackets listen to
Miss Boss Lady
but how is she any different?
her skin, her voice, her features--
all a jumble of the same DNA she preaches about
but what about the face of a nation,
slammed for making the hard decisions
no one else will?
how is he any different
than his self-righteous opposers,
opinions put on a pedestal
that can only be read by someone on a high horse?
how about the middle-aged mom who
decides any opposition,
any challenging of beliefs from her son is disrespectful?
is she really “in charge?”
is he really being “disrespectful?”
only a society so unmotivated by the Human Condition,
a cacophony of liars,
would think they were anything different.
-a.c.b

my depression keeps me company
when you are not here,
words like acetone sunrises
and the taste of broken glass,
it’s kind of like
falling in love with death,
if you’ve ever been so unlucky.
his arms hold me strong-
like yours-
but his grip is tight, vise-like
doors of melancholy barred shut by self- loathing,
and just a dash of intrigue,
almost like i keep forgetting what it’s like
to cry myself a wasteland of tears.
he keeps me company when you are not here,
words like sharpened daggers
and the smearing of blood against ivory skin
it’s kind of like
watching the burning of a silent masterpiece.
i am the silent masterpiece
and baby i am burning.
-a.c.b