EYEsee
SarcasticCollecting used eyeglasses to give to those in third world countries.
Send us your old pair of eyeglasses!
Helium DeliriumMoments with you meant being so elated I could have inflated and floated so high even God would have to bend His neck backward to pick me out, little raspberry, from the sky's cotton fields; or better yet I would have stopped inhaling but I sucked theHelium Delirium
compress and prayed fate would whist me in your direction. Stars were cruel and punctured me with each of their five corners to send me down-to-earth. I could not have held my breath forever. Why I had knowingly haggled paradise for paradise. We were but a fool's barter:
To Those Who Seek PurposeI wept as we all. We who are Cocooned in our fleshy beige Follicles and cells, electrons and protons, And neutrons with nucleuses, Which serve as brick and mortar for farTo Those Who Seek Purpose
Greater functions Just as we, these constantly revolving Bodies, fit like completing pieces in a Universe that has long been as Riddling as our own Galaxies bottled within us, Vastly beyond our Muscles, bones, and organs. I asked the Heavens why it is that we cry “Purpose!” and fear “A.” Seeking “Q.” for Queens who bear Crowns like yolks
In the GravelI find beauty in the graffiti of the ghettos. I know inspiration when I stare into the eyes of poverty. I bathe in sensuality at the site of patterns colliding like trains on the same track. I feel rejuvenation in the crumbling, moldering bricks. It is raw; it is cutting edge.In the Gravel
Here I stand, a suburbanite—not quite wealthy, but middle-class. Without having to work, I have been given much of what I need in order to survive in this world. I feel that such is the case for many people basking in the social gift of suburban life. In having been granted undeserved blessings, I feel as though the middle-class of the world has been d
Red NailsRed nails painted so as hungry, lonely spurs of passion dig painfully deep pits in soil, encrusting nail beds with brown residue of long sweaty jobs. Even the white walls quiver with the threat of being crackled apart by this raging attack. The body blades carve away their mark on public and private property both, temporarily satisfying a basal itch for scratching yet never fully coating one's pestilently thriving, surviving fingerprints.Red Nails
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thirteen crows are dragging you and me up to the roof.
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