thoughts while reading her sedoka…

her tears are her words
pages filled with memories
memories of nights by his side

memory’s journal
pages stained with her lost dreams
dreams once as real as warm flesh

ain’t your…

since we know
you have
a short
little
attention span
we’ll start
with
the bottom line
we ain’t
your
anything
i
ain’t your brother
and
she
ain’t your sister
i
ain’t no pimp
and
she
ain’t no whore
i
ain’t on unemployment
and
she
ain’t on welfare
i
ain’t waiting for salvation
and
she ain’t waiting on you
i
ain’t like your pedophile president
and
she ain’t like his playboy reject
i
ain’t gonna shuffle
and
she
ain’t gonna shake it
i
ain’t hateful
and
she
ain’t fearful
we could go on
but
i think
even
you
can grasp
we
ain’t
your anything

to whom it may concern…

do not
lay me down
into the frozen ground
where bones
become
as cold
as winter’s breath
no
cast my ashes
into the wind
that i might sail
free
to lands
i’ve never seen
nor
pondered
upon
and
if
there be
no
breeze
then
pour me
into the sea
to catch
a current
to those
childhood treasures
seen upon
the silver screen
but
whatever course
i must take
let me not
stay here
buried
with human fears
in a land
where chains
are wrapped around
each person’s thoughts
thoughts
that bind them
to
their savage past