fresh air all around.
joy peaks around the corner,
and i can taste it

to turn on. a light bulb.
the stars.
my eyes to the sky.
thinking up. feeling hot.
aroused. electricity.
a standard chemical reaction
which cannot be changed

to be on. funciona.
it works. a connection.
a spark that makes you glance twice
then turns into a flame.
lucid dreaming,
elusive pyromaniac.
bends you over to light you up
because you can't seem to stare at anything else.
so good, the ultimate punishment
when the lights suddenly go off.

black stars.
the crescent of a heel
kicking the door shut behind it.

apagar.
when you squeeze your eyes closed
and your retinas are still burning
because you stared too long
after a two-second spark.
turn off. crawl around
while you search for the switch
in other voices.
in nervous twitches.
anything that might make
your eyes find the sky
without asking how or why.
feeling up. thinking hot.
dry-humping the moon.
for it is what it is
and cannot be changed

close the door to my room
let's make some noise
let's feed off one another
for just one second of our time.
a fraction of our blessings
comes from the product of a rhyme
let's wail away
let's wail away
wail away

something in the air
says it's OK to feel all right,
to relax and unwind
to intertwine in arms and lock in legs
while outside is as cold as nighttime gets
it's the season to forget the past
for just one second of our time
which rhyme you wanna try out now?

i'm feelin gracious to say thanks
over and over,
i'm just not used this
over and over
to getting treated well
it's a bell of clarity
above the chain of subpar
that felt like necessity
over and over
collapse and collide
my ankles on his wrists
and our mouths open wide
i am young, i deserve this.
a tasty piece of cake
i like to wind my finger in the icing
and watch it ripple like a wave.
there's a richness to knowing
(it's something i now savor)
that i deserve sweetness
in the fruits of my labor

if a rhyme is a pattern,
then i want to start a new one
not the old tired shit
of a stupid sad love song
of boys treating me wrong
not knowing what they had all along
a better rhyme makes a better tune
a happy girl can still belt the blues
because she knows what it's like
to collapse and collide
to once be bound to something
when that something wasn't right
salty sweet experience,
i know what it's like to choke
and fight for air so i wouldn't get snuffed out
and be left broken.

i prefer a calm, lackadaisical rhyme
the one that takes its time
and makes me feel more alive than any
of those soul-crippling ditties.

look at you wearin my hat.
bet you don't know what else i got
when i got that.
so hip, so direct
you must be fashionably correct
to have a hat quite like it mister man
so keep smiling, keep on smiling

and you, with your blank stare
as though we've got no space to share
you look bewildered, i see it wildly
i'm afraid you look really scared
and innocent, yet snotty
as though your persiana has you shaded
from the rest of the bright light world.
baby girl you're like porcelain,
preciously fragile
so weak inside slivers of thought
inside your brain

lately i've noticed
these little discrepancies
subtly hostile, non-urgent adversaries
in people i know
who can boast with their own tongue
but won't dare try on someone else's...

unless it makes them look good,
makes 'em look real good.
unless they can wear it like an accessory
for time well-spent,
(even if it's just a fragment of a second)
a chispa.
a moment to fill you up then suck you dry
then makes you wonder why you became such a novelty,
a fucking trophy.
to stand out while others stand back,
can't look you in the eye and see
that we both have two eyes,
and we both have lives.
just some are colored differently

but i've realized a little discretion
goes a long way with discrepancies,
like i'm in on the secret they never shared
because they haven't yet received it.
i'm gonna boast with my own tongue
that flickers in my mind
just how boring i think they really are.
boring, and cocky.
seemingly satisfied in their cozy nest,
their circle of friends in their sunday best
wearin MY hat. oh god, if only he knew
what else i got with that...

it might displease or it might haunt you forever.
however, a little discretion on my part,
a persiana, protection from the bright light.
as precious as the womb when reality is questioned

tightly tucked in,
my secret, my shelter.
your bite-sized world

Goodbye 2011. How you came and went.
A remarkable year you were, really.
I'm not here to summarize.

Funny how two months pop up
like blemishes on a clean complexion
puberty, a downside to maturity
two months, September and February.
I don't consider them to be the worst,
for I've gone further in discourse.
Aside from those this was a very fruitful year.

I feel like a different person.
Brave and unstoppable,
yet sometimes cowering in social anxiety.
It's a blessing really, don't want to suck all the air out
until the ears pop
unless I'm underwater or alone in the park.

2011, you pressed my nose up against the glass
and sometimes it hurt.
Bending cartilage to unbend the mold,
I broke the barrier between me and myself.
My hands, even when empty
have so much to give, like the time.
My personal stock market has gone up,
pushing out the bottom feeders
forsaking my breath.

2011, you taught me a little about love
and all those tiny little differences
that separate small plants from trees
and the sake of sustainability.
sometimes i feel hardened as though
i've absorbed all the soil, enriched by lessons
with slight aggression. but i've learned not to be so heavy
as it's important to shake off leaves to obtain humility.
i desire an exquisite landscape,
one with time and care and reason and
the emotional capacity to endure the driest of drought
or the annoying occasional cringe of self-doubt
as though i'm not meant to deserve something so prosperous.
yet another useless thought gone by the wayside such as you.

2011, thanks for helping me feel more alive than ever.
those growing pains were worth it

feeling weak and lazy
dizzy in my own skin
a barrel of laughter in a shotgun
echoes long and wide
i'm safe from myself,
i know that already
yet i can't help but confuse the tide
left, right, which side the sun rises and sets
is the night time sky really the peaks of a ceiling in a cave
is night time the end or just the beginning of something else?

and in one moment i'm dancing like a court jester
winking eyes with bells and whistles
and bright-colored clothes
formatting my plans with hand motions,
tongue rolling r's, taste the sweetness of extremity
purring like a cat, glowing eyes wanting to be petted
waving my tail around to keep things from going still, stale
in a hurry to be loved so i can run away when i want, free
before the moment changes and i'm back in rags
with no desire to entertain anybody

it's a genetic fender bender.
it grips me like an airplane and shoots me off,
licking the delicious stars until i'm face down in the gravel
when the moment grows stale and i want to cry for no reason.
not a court jester, but still feeling foolish
as though the joke's on me
for thinking i could climb to the top of a tree
and escape the darkness under me.

and the dizziness? sometimes i confuse it with adrenaline.
maybe it's both. maybe it's what keeps me sane
it's the inner voice saying, get a grip and balance yourself.
this is why i know i'm safe

happy birthday mom