I came into this world,
My sister automatically hated me,
She wouldn't get the jewelry,
That my mother promised she would give,

My mother told me about jellybeans
"it will make you feel better,"  she said

I first learnt to walk,
My brother let me fall,
He said two children was enough,
Then I came and ruined it all,

My dad gave me a jellybean,
"it'll make you happy again" he said

I turned five,
My teacher didn't like me,
She found me a disgrace,
Just by being the way I am,

My friend gave me her jellybean,
"the jellybean would make you think of heaven instead,"

Ten was the worst,
I was fat as hell,
Girls picked while boys laughed,
Everyone just said it was puberty,

I ran home to my sister,
She said,"the jellybean will drive the pain away"

A teenager I soon became,
My father was drunk,
Rapping on the door like a ghost,
It was as if he felt his life was done,

My brother covered my ears,
"don't listen to his say, let the jellybean lead the way"

My grandmother died,
My mother cried her soul out,
She was like a sister to me,
My life was now incomplete,

My aunt dried my tears and said,
"Bite down on this jellybean, it's your only happy place"

My mother was stuck in depression,
Nothing could help her,
I was on my own now,
Everyone looked past me,

god came down to me and gave me a jellybean,
"never give up" was his advice to me.

20 was my age,
To rise and shine,
My family was finally happy again,
It was so great I had tears in my eyes,

My family gave me a box of jellybeans,
"more the merrier!" they said to me,

It was during college,
Did a handsome man ask,
"why eat those jellybeans,
When you're supposed to be sad?"

I gave him a jellybean, smiled and said,
"more sweetness fills in, than tears are shed,"

The man became my lover,
We were everything to each other,
We planned a whole life together,
Until he had to part away forever,

He kissed me on the lips and dried my eyes,
"please take this sweet, as token of my love for you,"

I went back home to find,
my brother had gone haywire,
He didn't listen to anyone anymore,
He was a rebel now,

I calmed him down and all he said,
"Carmel, you don't understand, all you care about is jellybeans,"

Soon after there was 'breaking news' on the TV
My brother had killed,
But soon ran away,
And I was related to a murderer,

My sister hugged me and asked,
"does this call for a jellybean?"

I got a job as an assistant  mental helper,
What more could I do?
My resumé didn't hide my history,
Dead gran, criminal brother...

My sad face softened the one on my boss,
"have this jellybean, it's all I have," he said

A year after the same routine,
Did I learn my father had a drink too much,
The hospital bed he lied,
And went away without my goodbye,

After The nurse told me everything, I looked into my purse,
"oh beautiful jellybean, please do your magic," 

After, a marriage was arranged for me,
The man was sweet, but not mine,
He was a choice of someone else,
Which is what hurt me a lot,

I looked for a jellybean, but my sister sighed and said,
"you are about to be married, no need for those antics,"

In reality, the man and I were friends,
We had a bit in common,
But nothing like my lover,
I was alone again,

My mind yearned for a jellybean,
But I stopped, for my sister knew what I was doing

The day to tie the knot,
My mother was half gone,
She came in a wheel chair,
Yet she was clapping along,

The priest spoke as my 'husband' smiled,
"no jellybean, but smile, smile for them," I thought.

After living a different life,
I still hadn't learn to love him,
My sister got mad and ran away,
Far away from me, she said,

My husband sat down and gave me a packet of jellybeans,
"I know it's what you love, take them and smile again, for me"

31 my brother payed a visit,
He had changed so much I could have loved him instead,
He cried and apologized,
But I just gave him a hug and SMILED,

He gave me a special jellybean,
"to tell you how much I appreciate it," he said.

He lived with me for a while,
My "lover" said I needed the company,
We laughed, smiled and cried together,
It was the best year of my life,

My friend came up to me and said,
"a jellybean for improving your happiness," 

Later my mother was fully gone,
My brother couldn't bare the pain,
He ran away, for he wasn't strong,
Sadness filled my air again,

My neighbor came and wished me well,
But no happiness came without a jellybean.

My depression,
It became my obsession,
My husband tried and gave up,
There was nothing he could do,

Cigarettes were my new candy,
"I'm sorry, Carmel, you're too old for jellybeans'' 

My husband screamed,
I would never try,
So he packed his bags,
And left with no sweet goodbye,

I cried my heart out, and pulled out my cigarette,
" wow, Carmel, look what you've done"I said.

So this was my life,
I was lonely as hell,
No family to love me,
No one to ask if I was well,

I left the cigarette and took out my special jellybean,
" at least it sweetens the pain, reduces the hurt, and make you feel as if you're whole again,"

After all that has become, 
after all that has been done,
The jellybean never left my side, 
It was the one who loved me, all this time

"I love you, Jellybean," I said, " you are my one and only, best friend,"

Consumed with bitterness
Fading into the darkness
Tearing up decency
Creeping towards immorality

Feminist turned *******
Manipulation creating exhibitionists
Religion lost in the lust
Lying destroying the trust

Men in suits with ****** hands
Thirsty woman giving rash demands
Young kids immune to commands
Teens doing anything to gain fans

They salvage in the danger
The boys seem stranger
The kids exasperating over meds
The couples are in over their heads

The shy  turn to the cocky
Experimentation over observation
The right thinking turning foggy
The topic of *** raises anticipation

Thunderous beats invading our ears
Drinking to avoid the fears
Infatuation  creating obsessions
Abandoning books for sessions

Squeezing into tiny clothes
Morphing into hoes
The money is on the mind
*** driven youth is our kind

Emancipation polluting our earth
Nothing is significant about birth
Young girls with swollen bellies
Dating guys older than their daddies

Enigma in my mind
I'm losing it God give me a sign
Enigma in my mind
I'm losing it God give me a sign......

I align myself with the notion I have it figured out .
But surreptitiously imagine traveling to the ends of the earth, until my mind is plastered with its beauty .

"But that's not a job " they say , "you can do that when you have money ."

It all comes down to the money , pieces of refined wood and words .
I have to get this morphised tree things to actually see those trees .
For how long ........

4 years

maybe 5 .........

15 ?

It displeases me, that maybe living through my worst fears could lead me to those trees .
Being confined into a little room and typing away on a ancient computer .
The smell of expired coffee and over polished leather shoes settling on my nose .  

"But what if I want to be creative then ?"

"Surely you can't mean being an artist " they scold

"No.....maybe architecture or graphics design ."

They nod , "yes those seem to get you the money then ."

But architecture means making buildings.
I can't , that would require me to reprogram my hand to stop the doodles of swirly lines and unfinished thoughts .
And to draw lines  of accurate straightness and concrete ideas .

Maybe I just don't want to grow up .
Yet I'm told I seem mature , held together .( the irony )
But that's because the system wants someone docile .
I just don't want to be observed,
so I squish myself into normal.  Just to be grey in the sea of discolored faces  .
I don't want to be picked out  and ridiculed for my indecisiveness .

But that will change when I have passed their tests . To move out of their schools .

Get the piercings I wanted and feel alive when I plunge into death contained situations

But I'm not sure though . I think about the future .

Repeating thoughts to people of what I want to do .
And each time I become less and less sure .

And more and more certain I will be made grayer , more uncertain . Then be the fraternal twin of black , white and have a bright light, coaxing me into the future .

"I am made up out of dreary routinely aspects."*
.
The afternoon always spans out throughout each morning,
And I awake within each in a bed I have spent eternity within.
I unveil the sheets, stand myself up onto the ground,
And rub my eyes of their tiredness.
I adjust the straps of the clothes I wear, and stand up
And just wait there.
The room is usually empty and often I feel like I am apart of the paint of the walls.
Like I am stuck upon them like a rock in the concrete or a figure that can be scraped from it.
I un-mount my position like a fly un-mounts a jar and swindle across my bedroom to
The door and go through the unfamiliar house to the kitchen where I collapse onto the chair.
I stare at the table, and caress its granite. I stand up and fix up the coffee in the corner.
I listen to the whistling of the kettle as it replaces the birth of an old silence.
'Its cold outside' it reminds me. It's always cold outside.
I pour the coffee and add the sedatives that would otherwise leave my thoughts racing within me,
And sip from the cup as I stand in the corner.
I leave it, sit at the table, and stare at the granite again.
The wind outside is not whistling, but rustling the leaves. I am reminded of thunderstorms.
Lightning, thunder, clouds, lightning, thunder, clouds,
I sip the cup again.
There is an old familiarity behind the noises outside the window,
I **** myself uselessly to infatuate a rhythm to the steps of the branches of the winter trees.
The kitchen is filled with the noises of these audacities,
and once, perhaps last year July,
Their repetitive sounds would escape their waves and induce me frightened alone in my kitchen chair...
But now, they do not frighten me.
Not since last year July.
I pick up the teaspoon from the side and enter it into the cup,
Neither have been washed from their last usage or usages.
As I stir, I hum a melody that is quieter than the rustling. A melody that is quieter than me myself.
When the coffee cup is empty, I lay my hands onto the granite and force myself up.
I stumble towards the door and through the house and back into the bedroom.
Sometimes the days are loud, and sometimes I am a figure to its silence.
I enter the bedroom and sit at the rocking chair that would of belonged to someone else
In another world where there was furniture for the restless women who stayed awake...
And I do not rock, I only sit.
My sleeping gown covers my legs,
but if I could, I would imagine a dress much shorter than this.
Showing the scars, the marks, the knees, the bones, the skin layers, the worn-out
Wrinkles and the sighing thighs.
I would picture their lengths dominated by the visibility of threads of cloths that
Are for some other woman in some other world.
I sit up and almost fall,
Then use the armchair to balance me as I mount onto the carpet,
Where I stand again and tremble.
I walk towards the bed,
Then turn around. I exit the bedroom.
I walk through the house and past the kitchen and enter
The bigger room with the chandelier and the grand piano.
There are picture frames in this room, but they do not show faces-
They only show sentences.
Scriptures,
and I ignore them, and sit myself at the grand piano.
Middle C has turned from the ivory color to
Brown. And I blow the dust away.
Ave Maria begins with the note G,
But I play the highest note on the set of keys
With my left hand,
Then roll across it one by one as if I'm playing an infinite scale.
And watch my fingers as they shake upon each valorous key.
'One, two, three' I whisper
Then play another note.
'One
Two
Three.'
I put my hands to my side then realize that there are tears rolling down my cheeks.
There is no window in this room,
I hum again and now it is the loudest sound in the house...
But it is still, oh so quiet.
The furniture in the room is all in standard condition,
As I stand up, I close my eyes and remember them without having to look at them.
As they are, as they have always been.
I walk to one of the walls that present four picture frames.
All of them show a man and a woman in each-
And all of them are blank.
There is a quote underneath one of them that reads, "The house must be tendered well-
for now home is where the heart is."
I read it out aloud, repeat it, then read it out a third time.
"If home is where the heart is," I then say, "then my heart must still be in July."
I look around...
"Last year."
This is my house... And it has not been tendered in a very long time.
I walk away from the wall again, face the piano,
Then walk out of the room and past the kitchen to the bedroom again.
There is a bathroom to the side, I remember,
I enter it and place myself fragilely at the sink and the mirror.
My face is in its center, and the tiles around of me create a green shade to my pale skin.
There is little hair left on my head, but I brush it away and look deeply into the shallowness
Of my eyes.
I hum again,
and I am echoed by the tiles of the bathroom walls.
But I am still oh so quiet. I hum louder.
Then I turn to the bathtub in the area of space in the corner of the bathroom.
There is still water inside of it from the previous day...or week.
I walk to it and realize that there are no windows in this room.
I enter the water, and sit in the bathtub.
The dress floats at the surface.
I am still humming.
I submerge my head within the water,
then bring it out after a few seconds.
I submerge it again and keep it in for longer,
then bring it out again.
I submerge myself within it again...
It is drastically cold and it's temperature permeates my bones and leaves me feeling
Bloodless.
The water enters my nose, my mouth, goes down my throat and suddenly,
I am out of it again and choking at the head of the bathtub.
I bring myself out of it, weakly and exasperated, onto the bathroom tiles.
I exit the bathroom and walk back into the bedroom.
I collapse onto the bed and then pull the sheets on top of my dried shaking body.
I exhale...
"The sheets used to love you." A voice in my head says.
"If you were to veil yourself every-night like a queen in marriage to a dead man,
Then no one would blame you for never actually showing yourself."
And I listen...
Then that is exactly what I do.
I think about the loss of my neurons,
Then append my thoughts to race under their sedatives as I pull the sheets around my entire body.
Eventually, I stop shaking.
But when I open my eyes, I realize that only my body has.
"I wonder how these memories would feel like," I whisper again,
"If they were in the mind of some other woman,
In some other world..."
I close my eyes,
I close my mouth,
And I go to sleep.

I think I may have left
A few of my vital organs with you
(Or maybe since you left them they forgot how to function)
Or something.

Because suddenly I'm aware of my breathing,
My heart has developed an arrhythmia,
I have to tell myself to keep blinking, circulating, left foot right foot.
I forget what to think.
(How do I take my tea?)

My mind jumps, and wanders... what are you doing now... at this second...your beautiful hands...

I stop, collect myself, gather my bones.
Breathing slowly becomes a rhythm again,
For now.

I live next door,
To a ballerina,
I hear music all day,
And see lights on all night,

It doesn’t bother me,
For we are good friends,
I knew her forever,
Even as a child,

Sometimes I see her,
From my bedroom window,
Dancing like her life depends on it,
Only, it really does,

She moves,
With such grace,
Delicately on her toes,
As if it was easy,

She glances out her window,
Sees me staring,
Flashes a smile,
As if everything was okay,

But I too knew her too well,
To fall for that lie,
I looked at her long and hard,
And now I see why,

Beads of sweat,
Fell down her forehead,
Her legs shook,
As she did a developpe,

Her face was pained,
Strong hint of confusion,
Yet she smiled away,
As if she wasn’t hurting,

She was beautiful,
She could pass as a goddess,
But if you looked closely,
You could see she wasn’t flawless,

Her ever-so-fake smile,
Is what gave her away,
And the shine in her eyes,
Was simply the tears kept inside

Just when I thought,
It was a trick of the light,
She tripped and fell down,
Into a puddle of her own tears,

I didn’t know,
What to do,
Should I climb out my window?
Or leave her in pain?

One thought was dominant,
And it was neither of either,
I screamed just enough,
For her to hear,

She looked up,
And cried once again,
I asked her what was wrong,
Was everything okay?

She said it wasn’t,
As she walked towards her window,
And then did I see her body,
As thin as a straw,

She told me her story,
Everyone was screaming at her,
They said she was pathetic,
Useless in so many ways,

She said she agreed,
They were telling the truth,
She was too fat to be beautiful,
Too fat to dance,

That’s when it hit me,
It explained so much,
She had a disorder,
Anorexia nervosa,

I told her the truth,
While her body shook,
I shook my head and said,
“It’s going to be okay,
My little ballerina”

She smiled, and left.