(2014)
To be a true artist Must they be recluses Crazy mad or sick Or even better dead Show me a healthy artist
Why can’t I choose to be somewhere in the middle? Surrounded by extremes Measure everything With a grain of salt
Why do we love sunsets? Distinguishing fascination What other species Must stop and stare A romantic couple
Some I like to share Fresh out of the oven Don’t let it get cold That’s why I wrote it Emotions in that moment
You must commit To an outfit Where are you going? In sporty yoga pants Athletic top
Manos fuertes No me sueltan De la cama Yo les digo Me tengo que ir
Antisocial tendencies Amplified by sickness I can people watch Yet I can’t people talk I am lonely
Tomorrow Has not yet come It’s promises yet to be broken Tomorrow Is bigger
Apathy and incompetence In healthcare A fax they didn’t send Prescriptions delayed Labs to do again
I am stronger Than you think I am I am weaker Than I look
I crave stability Neither wandering spirit Nor home-body Yes I’d love to travel But the foundation
I will be Forever in debt To my mother Any gift Would come up short
Springtime means Berry pickin’ In warm sun Therapeutic Part of me
A healthy pancreas Is like a transmission Seamlessly shifting gears In type 2 diabetics Wear and tear
Her fingernails Natural Long Pointed On fingers