You don't feel the tight skin.
You don't hear the buttons pop.
You don't feel the seams rip.
You don't see my mirror.
You tell me I look healthy.
You tell me I have cute curves.
You tell me I need to eat.
But you don't understand.
When you are asking me to eat,
You are asking me to give up.

green collisions
topped with
yellow petals
no,
white petals
no,
red petals
no,
pink petals

i think i'm hearing the colors
and tasting the sounds

do you think we melt in heaven?
i've always liked that thought

melting

the flowers
are waltzing
no,
moonwalking
no,
they're doing the salsa
no,
pole dancing

we're all flowers
learning to dance
in the wind

we're all writers
learning to pen
down our words

we're all artists
learning to drip
paint, quicker, faster

we're all struggling
to find
our waves

i've never danced before

i tried once

i cried

i don't write poems for anyone

i write poems to survive

i need these words
and broken stanzas
like the flowers
need their breeze,
need their water,
need their sun,
need their breeze,
need their water,
need their sun,
need their breeze,
need their water,
need their sun

my liver is black
these words are black
my shirt is black

the flowers stay full of color

i wonder
what
would
happen
if
we
learned
to
love
the breeze,
the water,
the sun,
the breeze,
the water,
the sun,
the breeze,
the water,
the sun,

the same way
the flowers
do

dancing

is wishing all little boys have shoes
     is that we sing everyday
the way we do today

My wish is if Jesus
       came today
he would be proud of me.

My Christmas wish
           is to end all misery,
is to be like him.

I strive, as we all do,
             to attain heaven on
Earth.

That does not ever
            mean it is
impossible.

Who knew that
colored paper with
dead guys' faces on it
could have the power
to influence, corrupt, and even ****.