Dreams

I'm sorry if I look tired. I haven't been sleeping well recently.

after I check underneath my bed and behind the skeletons in my closet for anything worth fearing
I can't surrender myself
don't want to let my subconscious prey on my innocent mind
there are things lurking in the corners of my skull
spider webs in my sub arachnoid space
that harbor eight legged surprises
I'm not prepared to face

I am not ready
for the nightly battles that always end with sheets slick with sweat
snaked around my neck in the softest cotton noose embrace
the fingernail marks in my palms tell me that i'm holding on too tight
but I can't figure out how to just let go. I have tried.

See, my dreams are not nightmares,
they're stallions with angry hooves and destruction on their minds
they are trench warfare
they are a kamikaze plane in mid dive
they are the aftermath of a suicide bomber
they are a game of russian roulette I know I'll always lose

my dreams are senseless massacres orchestrated by creatures without faces
I still don't know who they are or what they want yet.

my dreams are handcuffs clamped on bleeding wrists
my dreams are switchblades slipped between my ribs like false promises
My dreams are trying to smother me quietly so the neighbors won't hear

My dreams... My dreams...
My dreams have tarantula legs dancing on my skin
my dreams are lead poisoning coursing through my veins,
weighing me down and pressing me into an unforgiving alternate reality
my dreams are molotov cocktails that ignite the fuses of full blown panic attacks

My dreams have politely introduced me to my own personal devil.
He smiles like the Joker with insanity scarred into his cheeks
moves like a heavy hearted tornado dressed in a silent venom
he runs through the streets of my fears with a magnifying glass
he has vocal chords shaped from needles that pierce my inner sanctuary and leave it in pieces so i may never know peace
and when I wake up, he whispers in my ear that I belong
back in the nightmares he so carefully designs for me
his laughter smells like gasoline
with black flames in the space between his fingers
so every night,
My mind's fields are set ablaze and explode for eight hours straight
I was never able with such an abundant light source

you don't know the meaning of no mercy
until your own mind holds you hostage
and the ransom is your sanity

so I'm sorry if I look tired. I haven't been sleeping well recently.

shedding

I woke up one morning and my thoughts were made of clay
So i dug my fingers into it and reshaped the way I thought about the world

My eyes had filters in front of them I didn't realize were there
so I took them off and changed how I see myself.

I threw out the old version of my dictionary
because I figured by now, the definitions of things have changed.

1 year anniversary

I've got a secret lover.
I only indulge her in certain places
I'm not allow to love her loudly
because not everybody understands her.
but you should see how my eyes transform into anxious candle wicks
how they light up whenever I hear her.
how I can't contain myself when she's around
because I feel like my soul is flying circles around my head in a dance i have yet to learn
like I've been on a scavenger hunt and she's after the final clue
I found something I didn't even know I was looking for
it's like I finally speak enough languages to actually know the true name for Love
like there and candy cane kisses tiptoeing in the hollow spaces behind my cheekbones
and my face hurts from grinning

see, I can only speak in poetry when I'm allowed to.
I'm restricted, strapped into this straightjacket of socially acceptable actions
I can only share her with others when they actively seek to know her
I wish I could explain that the reason I walk barefoot through the grass is because I've learned how to listen with my toes
those brave green blades sound like piano keys that are stroked by the fingertips of Grace herself
I wish I could stop and tell strangers I know them
because I can see pieces of my own old soul swimming in the irises of their eyes
I know we share a history because of the way that our hands are shaped to fit together;
we're not so different, you and I.

I wish I could tell you why I constantly keep my hands dancing,
how it lets me speak to my grandmother because she's no longer in a place where words can reach her
so I have learned to mimic the flight of swallowtail butterflies that she becomes on the days I miss her the most
I wish I could live inside the bubbles of words trying to burst from behind my chest bone
there are sea foam strips of artistic inspiration hiding behind my xiphoid process
that course through my veins with quick purpose like the few cars left on the 405 at 2 am
my dreams expand behind my ribs, they eventually find themselves lodged in my cheeks
so they can pull my lips apart to reveal teeth in rows like white roses
waiting for a honeybee who isn't afraid to let me get close to him
and translate my waking dreams into a tongue he understands.

I want to ask people why they're not comfortable in their own skin
we are spiritual beings having a physical experience
we receive one body to use as our connection to the world. it belongs to us for the entire time we're here. we should learn to love it.
I want to tell women that they're beautiful because I know sometimes, they really need to hear it.
and I want to tell men that they're strong enough as they are
I want break these gender stereotypes apart like a bar of chocolate
they're only useful when they're in pieces.

There are words trapped in my vocal cords
I'm choking on my own breath
like I can't exhale the truth unless I've been given permission.

I was silent for eight long years.
Until I came here.
Until I realized that people were listening.
because there are days where saying I love you isn't enough
letting my inspirations know that they're my muses just aren't the right words
and I wish I could just express everything

I wish that I was able to tell you, melissa, that our blossoming friendship feels we're both letting our flower petal faces finally soak up the light that comes from the other's words
I wish I could tell you, kevin, that I hate any magazine's list of most beautiful, talented men alive because they don't include your name and they should, the part of the world that doesn't know you is missing out
I wish I could tell you, Brandon, that I believe you are part dragon because you actually spit fire; sometimes I can feel it singe me somewhere between my ribs
Nghiem, I think you're a magician because your words have always and will always hypnotize me
Justin, you stupid. if you ever choose to not believe in yourself- just look at yourself through my eyes and you'll never be disappointed
Stich, your voice is like siren, piercing my eardrums with such honest eloquent truths and never failing to bring attention to injustices
Cesar, when I met you I mistook you for Julius because your words are so powerful
Dajanae, never mistake the word "fiesty" for an insult, don't deny the hot sauce spice that you have coating your throat
Meghan, your teeth must be about to rot from all the candy you ate, your words are always so sweet to my ears
Chris, you give me little boxes of hope for humanity that I keep to myself and open when I'm fed up with everyone around me.
Elaine, your quiet sentences will never fall on deaf ears to me- I hear your heartbeat writing rhythm all the way over here.
Andy, you're a rock star. You always have been, and I'll keep putting your pieces on repeat if you'll let me.

to all my wonderful bunnies
who keep this world uncultivated
thank you for letting me bring my secret lover
out into the world
where she belongs.