(2014)
#SickPoems
Her fingernails Natural Long Pointed On fingers
When we are young we strive to be cool with our clothes and the way we move and our friends with swag as adults though our friends be co…
Beautiful legs The right shape and curve Olive color without the green That tans and doesn’t burn Until you see
Destruction is fun But cannot be undone Smashed Trashed Crumpled
Didn’t they know that people cared? That they were loved? Why didn’t someone tell them?
My poems are short Written at night In my head I wake at dawn Shake my memory
Yo te amo Tres palabras Que solucionen todo Para la mujer Tan complicada
I cannot divide My heart Into four pieces Equally Geometrically
¿Te duele Cuándo piques tu dedo? No Lo hago por pura diversión Lo que duele
The E’s squeak by The I’s are too excited The U’s come after Q But the A’s and the O’s They flow
The teenage rebels All fall in line Be they hippies Goths, rockers or skaters Moving from one mould
Manos fuertes No me sueltan De la cama Yo les digo Me tengo que ir
How do you measure pain? All is relative and personal Even with one’s own self It is impossible to compare As memory distorts pain
Turkey and dressing Loud and overwhelming Opinions and food fly Green bean casserole Too much laughter
Have you ever felt A hole inside of you Something dead inside Where your heart Is supposed to be?