Artists like us
Have a rare form of narcissism
In which
We think we are ****
But we want others to see our ****
And enjoy it
And when they do.
It's intoxication
To much wine
On an empty stomach
Fade to black

Growing up
My uncle had this *******
Junkyard dog
And the dog had a bear
And i was 5
And i didnt really want the bear
But next thing i knew
It was craddled to my chest
And the dog stratched
to get it back
It left a deep red reminder on my arm
And i hid it from my mom
So she wouldent know i took the dog's bear
I still have a scar there.

But look
what im saying is,
Though this is into the void
And you will never hear it,
I'm sorry.

she was known as the slave of heart
pretty young girl that just found new love
she was blinded by it
she could not even see it

it was always him over everything
him over everyone else
worst of all it was him over herself
she was the slave of heart
  
she did not see it coming
cupid payed it so well
she got her tiny heart broken
and she still loves him

nothing has changed
she has ignored the pain
all she wants its her bae
because she is the slave of heart

xvii.

my dear neurosurgeon
failed to find my eyes,
he only looked
at my mouth, my
left jaw,
whine a little,
and gave me analgesic - i f

orgot what's the na
me - that replaced my f
ace with the mo
on. it's moon face. still

present until this very moment
just because my body wants to
remember. i
maintain my diet like there's
no tomorrow but actually there is &
boy did it
grace my stomach with a

crying gift, an angel's tears,
an angel lives near the volcano
everything turns sour.

i wasn't hurting at that time.

now i am. turning not only
my face to the moon, my whole body
is the moon, even my
fingers are the moon
but they are the crater part so
when i touch a boy he

disappears - when i
touch a girl i disappear.
i've never wanted to be a boy,

only some nights
i am so fragile i become masculine.
it's not that i've never felt
feminine, i do, every time

i am catcalled i do, every
time my father kisses me like a jewel
i do, every time my brother
treats me like a marionette
i do, every time i'm seen as angry i swear i do.

my mother is angry all the time but
that doesn't do anything about
her womanhood - her husband
still sees her as a good, and yes, the eyes
of a man
are like the sun, nothing at all
like mine.
my eyes are the only part of me
that is not the moon, that is pluto.

i've been to so many doctors
i am very sure it's not
the minds nor the medicines.

it's funny
that

my dear neurosurgeon
didn't even graze my skin -
the only time a knife
tore my epidermis open

it was a slim box cutter.

i've been to so many doctors,
i am very sure.