sometimes, i take walks down old abandoned allies
just to admire the messy neon graffiti of ghetto, drug-related nicknames
and to smell the excess food rotting away in dumpsters.
my bare feet melt into the bone-chilling pavement
as i revel at such a disturbing sight of our country's demise.

i am not a pessimist. i am simply an honest observer.
"our age is retrospective. it builds the sepulchers of the fathers.
it writes biographies, histories, and criticism."

whirlpools

whirlpools filled with the desire to please
swirl in my eyes.
muddy, dirty whirlpools.

the water sloshes from my eyes
and begins slowly riding down my cheeks
until it falls and hits the floor.

i stomp in the puddles,
staining my burning satin shoes.
the puddles keep getting bigger.

my body is fully consumed.
my arms dance
but my mind is crippled.

muddy, dirty whirlpools
swirl in my eyes.
whirlpools filled with the desire to please.

to my childhood friends

do you remember
feeling invincible?
everything was so safe
in our little foam bubbles.

your hands were the waves of the ocean,
removing all control from my body
and consuming me.

your eyes were the spotlights
on a broadway stage,
allowing me to take a bow.

your ears were old quilts,
wrapping me up in a comforting,
musty smell.

your feet were monster trucks
without brakes,
ready to explore everything
without taking no for an answer.

we danced, we sang, we laughed.
we were little
and now we are big.

first shots

i fear you
like i fear that first shot of vodka.
my mind puts up four walls
for protection.
my heart bursts,
allowing a wave of bipolar nonsense
to fill my body.
i wince and grasp the arms of my seat
until my knuckles turn to snow.
i am raw,
stumbling through life with a clear perspective.

but after that first step,
my heart stops feeling so much
and my head stops talking so much.

i just let my body be.
i allow myself to forget to make my bed.
i dance in the numbness
and revel in the empty feeling
i have craved for so long.

for don pt II

today, i will write my own biblical bullshit,
a few sentences from God to help
ease my soul.

i believe that you can soar now
laughing and twisting in the heavens.
you’re taller than all of us, now.
you can run faster
and dance harder
and sing louder.
you can continue to love with all of your soul.

for don.

black crawls down the face
of the crying sky.
it lands delicately on my lap,
drop my drop,
staining my hand-me-down white dress.
i cry along
because it feels like the right thing to do.
the ground bursts out sobbing,
shaking and screaming,
until i pull myself together
and sing it a lullaby
of sweet nothings.

my head rests on the cold earth;
my arms grasping its core.
the sky bends down and kisses my forehead,
promising to buy me a new dress
come nightfall.

blurry memories

“I sift through the edges of the wind
and drink to remember you.”
-Noelle Kocot

i will sit here,
cross-legged and trembling,
with a half-empty bottle of vodka in one hand
and a glass of opaque truth in the other
until i remember you.

maybe the newfound blurry images
will help me decipher
the very essence of you.
maybe it is that confusion
that will gently hold my hand
and lead me down the cobblestone road
of the past.

my inebriated bones will twirl
and i will find reality in the twisted fairytale
that has a hold of me.