The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle—
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea—
What are all these kissings worth
If thou kiss not me?

We live in times of greatest fear,  
and hear the echo of the past,
in words of those we can’t ignore,
and lessons of historic years.

Wars and their rumors speak to us,
of violence and the end of days,
as voices whisper in the lines,
of those we join in nightly news.

We stop our ears to those who plead,
for us to listen to their truths,
and point our finger for mistakes,
at those who have the most to lose.

We hide our eyes from blatant facts,
because they don’t affect our lives,
and so become a puzzle piece,
of people's war against itself.

The voices held in mortal screams,
of those beyond our backyard fence,
with children paying for our greed,
the future of our lives foretold.

But now with nowhere we can hide,
from evils living in our world,
our future lies upon the truths,
that are so carefully concealed.

It usually takes about 5 minutes for me to blackout
while sitting on the black leather on the black tar
going 60 fully there but not quite fully aware.
This is my third autopilot and so far
I like her the most because she has the biggest eyes
though she sometimes glitches and needs to be reminded
that even at a beety red light there’s no need to
jot down an idea for a poem, or even world peace
(The two are not the same.)

So while the road lines melt into a
side swept long exposure dizzy photograph, but
like the ones that move in the Harry Potter movies
and I assume the books too, the books I would
definitely like but probably will never actually read,
the photographs like living live photos seemingly
sweet memories coming to life but in reality
a horrifying knock off of the fly on the wall
except this fly could be your late grandma
in portrait mode or an angsty teen musician
stuck in a teeny-bopper magazine poster, and
as I am seeing all of these animated flipbooks
I realize, just maybe, in another life I was
definitely a Cher imposter but with a
better impression than she herself.

Then a singing sea nymph and even those cursed by her,
one of Cleopatra’s snakes, stuck in a life
without limbs, let alone thumbs
but a mouth to devour and ultimately,
importantly, perfect teeth.
I am not fit to be a pet still though, to be forced to
always listen and never speak never fully
understood, except, not being a pet
doesn’t even mean I have done or
not done those things I am just always
done and not done, undone and now done
with this drive and unsure of
just quite how I made it here, I believe, alive.

I was alone that night.
Because of you,
I had to walk in bravery and fear alone.
Your anger liked to stick to you like a burr plant on blue jeans.
Whatever it is I said,
it boiled you.
I walked home that night alone in darkness and in confusion as to why you weren't there protecting me at that time of need.
I couldn't let anyone know what you did to me,
it would've left a bad taste in their mouth.
No call,
no checkup,
no worry,
nothing.
You didn't seem to care about my safety until I had already made it home.
Tired,
exhausted,
sad.
You only asked because you felt bad for not caring.
At that moment,
I should've left for good.
But I stayed.

A tiny pill, less than fingernail-size
Washed down with water each day.
You’d think nothing of it.
It’s just like clockwork.

It does its job.
You marvel at science
And you marvel at being a woman
Just how does your body do it?
You wonder each day.

Now there is less blood
But more bleeding
Less pain
But more suffering

As the months pass you start to realise something.
You’d rather tear out your own hair
Than tear out your own ******
You’d rather be drenched with blood
Than drenched with sadness and anger

Once a month you wish you were dead.
The pill laughs.
Once a month you cry yourself to sleep
Just because somebody looked at you funny.

This tiny tiny thing
Smaller than your fingernail
May be making it easier to be a woman
But it’s making it harder to be you.

September 30th, 2016,
Saturday.
It was my birthday.
I was officially becoming grown in a sense.
And what other way to spend it than with you.
You took me out that day.
For tacos and a sweet dessert after.
My menstrual had fallen on that day so you tried to make it better.
It was that day, we were gifted with our son,
Theodore the Big Teddy.
Theo for short.
You know, I still have that big bear.
It takes me back to the day you bought it for me,
knowing I wished upon a star so many times for one.
Among-st all my birthdays,
that one sticks up like a flower in a grassy field.
It was my first of ever,
spending it with the love of my life.  
I thank you for making my 19th birthday a day to remember.