Cupid forgot male, female, transgender, non-binary, and everyone not understood.
The incredulous world feels as though the smell of apple pie burned the air.
The sweet soft touch of a baby’s toes blindly mistaken by a wolf’s deceiving blue eyes. Calloused palms surprised with sensual lips that tease the truth.
Chapped lips, gloss over misguided truths,
cracking lies to our hearts.
Bullying, rage, the chocolate twitter with no character.
The projection on a carnival mirror of weight watchers of our fate.
I podcast to myself without a megaphone.
I only know I’m different because my pea sized Seigfred and Roy brain thinks it’s true. Language is a priest in slavery’s rules.
Heck, I’ll be damned. Holy cow, Siegfred and Roy saved the day. Man, get serious. I kid you not. Heck, sheez louise, tomato tomato, take it or leave it. Listen up, Tigers don’t care. Wake up and smell the roses. Get real. Get real.
Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.
I can’t breathe when fists of vulgarity maul my throat.
I wish I could crawl out of my skin but there are only blisters.
I feel raw. I can’t hide if I’m a part of it.
I judge them, they judge me, I wear blue, they wear red, purple is made up.
I’m not an open book.
My book has keys.
Locked in dusty air that comes from collective poisoned lungs.
Words no longer held in welcoming palms but wet palms slapping sideways glances. Colored TV’s mask the truth of black and white.
The world’s howling enraged silk tears of a shredded wedding dress.
A vengeful divorce of unconditional love eloping without a curious invitation.
I thought Valentines day had only 3 colors- red, white and chocolate.
It’s so commercially cupid.
Cupid forgot male, female, transgender, non-binary, and everyone not understood.
I am ignorant.
I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know.
I know I am white.
White isn’t a color, I’m a shadow.
I am on my side, I am to blame, I am innocent, I am a hypocrite.
Does 50 years make me a quartz stone?
The house is leak proof.
The house is full of holes.
The house of Xbox’s.
The house without a dinner table.
I eat to survive not eat to live.
I am full of shit.
Full of noise.
Full of exhaustion.
I am resistant when I think shrimp comes at me.
My eyes stare at the marathon in you.
It’s more simple than we drunk make it.
Can I just smile at a Mcdonald’s person and then they do.
And so on and so on.
Everyday I rise out of bed.
It’s the same floor.
I am not the same with my phone in my hand.
I am the screen of indulgence.
I only see apps.
I mistake Google for infinite downloads.
I miss the universe.
If I could handle more I wouldn’t need pills, but it’s easier to be choiceless.
We float through humanity in a storm.
The tornado warns us for miles as the world cracks in invisible lines.
Heads shake from quakes of earth’s sorrow.
The sun withers in shine.
A moon’s eclipses our shadow of unconsciousness.
Judgement mistaken for divine misfortune.
Erosion is sand from rocks, one in the same.
