You are not above the magic

nor are you a part of systemics.

Finding false fragile footing

the fallacy of stability;

an expat on one leg

expects too much from those around him

and drives away the women he wants

and the men he does not feel anything toward

or so he says…

Leaving behind tears of hard plastic

& scissors in your ripped sock/

a heart less tangible

more cosmic, a terror even

from the depths of above/

The guiding wind

& the steady of sunlight

bring you to the brink

of death on the water of the Dead Sea.

Your messages wash up on the shores

o’Sconsin

bottled up in deposits that heave weigh

packaged in cording and twine,

dipped and sealed in wax:

scripture written in a fucking composition notebook

during biology class/

& buried under your smaller-than-twin sized mattress

next to your dilapidated shoes/ burnt

I̶ ̶w̶i̶s̶h̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶b̶l̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶w̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶t̶s̶

I can hear explosives

erupt as though they were only centimeters from my ear;

Televisions and media revolted.

A lapse in time til Ruby tint

and linoleum escapades

gain way for thoughts of futures past;

a ghostkey memory of saturated hope

that one day things will be not as they are now

nor will they be as they were.

This book full of hope, the word

is one to fill your pockets with.

I am Happy

to see you,

Friend.

Getting out early was both a privilege and a travesty.

I am *** with you ***

And I *** your friends

*** mother ***

siblings *** dreams of futur

to de lay

a do lay

dobe li ay