Nothing but change.

You told me not to change
and I said yes.
Sorry I lied,
I lost the thing I once had.

It’s like a heart-attack,
sirens, flashes, warning signs.
I guess my brain can’t decide,
to win or just to survive.

So it’s the middle road,
can’t see the sun,
can’t rest at night.
Sorry for the people I disappointed.

Sorry for the ones I still blame,
especially myself & I.
Want to be alive,
just to keep myself alive.

It’s a battle with no win or lose,
it’s the outside that’s inside.
I keep hearing people say “rise, rise”!
Have they learned their lessons? Not I.

I guess I was sorta insane.
The spark you saw
was all part of a dream.
I was there but somewhere also.

Do you know what I mean?

I’m sorry I’ve changed.
I’m sorry I’m the same.
You said it long ago,
but did you really know

what any of this means?

All I have.

I have someone else’s lips.
I have someone else’s nose.

I have my mother’s forehead
and her cheekbones.
I have my father’s eyes,
not my mother’s that look like a cat’s.
Looking into his is like looking into mine own.
While hers are like stranger’s,
but still pretty to look at.

I have my father’s torso.
I have my mother’s bosoms.
I have athlete’s foot like she does
and the full head of hair too
that’s not turning grey
like when she’s my age.
Must be my father’s gift.

I have god knows whose’ eyebrows.
I may have grandfather’s selfishness.
I may have a touch of grandmother’s madness.
I suffered mother’s iron will.
I marveled & pitied father’s intellect.
I’m quick to withdrawn when being beaten back.
I yearn like them for something they never had.

Are we a tree? More like a twig.
You said my name’s not gonna be on that list.
So then why should I give a shit?
All them pretty things to look at,
just as well cause they’re made to be wiped.
If this’s a game I will hold my line.
I have my mother’s & my father’s tears.

I don’t want to pass it on if that’s all I have.

Girls’ night out.

Girls’ night out, yo,
got myself a little bell.
Girls’ night out,
clink, clash, pow!

Girls’ night out, yo,
if you don’t see me about.
It’s girls’ night out,
girls’ night out.

Girls gotta have fun now,
it runs in the family.
Let you be reminded,
why we ain’t smiling.

It’s fun time, girls’ high time,
Grab a friend time, forget the past time.

It’s all us girls now,
never been anyone else.
Let me give you the hashtag,
it’s #girlsdontgiveashit.

Don’t ask if you don’t wanna listen,
we ain’t got time & you ain’t our guest.
Better hurry up & get outta dodge,
otherwise your ass’ going in the trunk.

It’s girls’ night out, it’s not garbage night.
It’s been awhile so wear that skunk red.
Got no worries with guns in the purse.
Think I’m drunk? You better ask first.

It’s girls’, girls’, girls’ night out.
It’s cooing, mewing, howling in the crowd.
There’s no contest who can be really loud.
Ask the sherif, she’s been here awhile.

It’s girls’ night out, women’s night out, grandmas’ last night out.
No cookies, cakes, or roasted birds for you just now.
Hurry up & get out of our house.
It’s our night, all night, ain’t a thing but girls’ night.

Whiskey Bottom.

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I live a half life, yo,
that I’m always guilty for.
Sorry I was born.
Sorry I was a girl.
Sorry they almost divorced.
Sorry they stayed together.

I learned to compromise
and call nowhere home.
No directions, no set belief.
So what am I guilty for?
Sorry I was never young.
Sorry I don’t like people.

Sorry I lie because
I don’t want to talk
to convince you something
I can’t wrap my head around.
Sorry I change my mind.
Sorry I walk you into a trap.

I remember what I said at seven
to convince my parents.
I remember the moment
I discovered a tape
that turned my care-free
into bone-deep suspicion.

I’m sorry that I’m sorry.
I feel guilty feeling this.
Am I supposed to grow up?
Why does it feel like death?
What do I have to adjust
to feel like a well-adjusted person?

I say “sorry” to myself.
I’ve let myself down.
Not owning my differences,
still not cutting it.
Maybe just a little space,
a breath, at whiskey bottom.

Jesus, my star.

(Half inspired by choir music, half by a headache.)


Jesus, my star,
have you traveled far.
Give me the courage to follow
through the desert & swamp.

We are hand in hand,
in spirit & in flesh.
All around us, the world
makes us believe in you.

Oh, my dove,
fly my spirit away,
to your father’s kingdom,
to my resting place.

If you are dead, then
I know I’m saved.
If you’re alive,
then I rest my faith.

We are hand in hand,
in spirit & in flesh,
to your father’s kingdom,
to my resting place.

Oh, my dove,
fly my spirit away.
We are hand in hand,
to my resting place.

Romancing.

Death’s a mysterious lover.
When you pine for it, nothing,
when the least expected,
it comes knocking.

You can party with it.
Crimson robes & black crown.
Many teeth you can’t see.
Better savor that last kiss.

All systems going defunct,
back to the factory where they’ve come.
Various methods of degradation.
At least the builder knows recycling.

You’re drowsy, time for a shut-eye.
Spotlight dims, bar opens all night.
Traveling between some blurry lines,
looking for something that’s inside.

Come back, show me the design.
Mark it, so I can rest.
Comfort me, with your intent.
Then again, it’d just make me sad.

Tragedies

I can’t cry my own tears,
so I find someone else’s.
You have to be perfect though,
sorry we can’t be friends.

Vision of you disguising me
is what I really need.
Tried searching for Jesus,
guess he didn’t fit the box.

Need to get out now,
all these so called tragedies.
Heard another call
& the heart’s finally calm.

It’s been so long,
have been fine with the buzzing sounds.
Here’s looking at you, kid,
how about that second round?

Flesh wound.

Yesterday:

Had a little flesh wound,
looks like a piece of damaged styrofoam.
Lots of little things are working
to make me round and whole again.

What are they trying to promote?
Why work so hard on my meat and bones?
Look, it’s all glittering & pink,
I’m kinda adorable underneath.


Today:

It now looks like a rotten apple,
a little brown as the skin tries to heal.
A layer of meat that was affected.
Nerves are still red in protest.

The white cells are doing their job,
so are millions of other things I don’t know of.
Even the microbes in the air are helping out.
Imagining the dramas as a broadway show.


1 day later:

Now it looks like a crater,
hard scab surrounds a raspberry middle.
You’re pretty again,
makes me want to make more of you.

Just kidding though,
not into that kinda pain.
Though next time I swing a stick
I won’t mind a little scrape.

Sine anima.

I’m non-committal,
my soul’s not in this.
I learn the rules,
I copy the books,
but my soul’s not in this.
I need to fill the purse,
I need new clothes,
but where did my soul go?

Why won’t it show?
What had gone wrong?
My heart’s on the ground.
I look for clues, nobody knows.
It must be shattered,
no longer in this world.
Where did you go, my friend?
Where did you go?

A strange second.

It happens in a weird second,
time collapses & expands.
Can’t describe it
for fear of forgetting.
It’s morning, evening, night.

Had a dream carried us away
would we notice?
Or the bad things happen
so we can remain?
It’s a hot second,
then life turns away.

Another day, parked cars on the street.
Another day, everyone hides in their cave.
The bewitching hour
when the land takes a breath,
you feel it,
the cosmic smile.