untitled

they silently made their way through city streets

adorned with semi-delusional ideas
visual blended them in with countless colors the
nuance the canvas of urban
elements
what if what
they saw then
and
got medicated for
 laughed at
discredited by
disenfranchised for
marginalized by
society for believing
exists

little bio

all the way back to ancient history, i mean my personal teenage daydream, i stayed away from the opportunities the crosswalks the celebrations the teachers the smiling faces. i could see them but i could not approach them. they were there waiting for me all those years but i harbored social anxiety and a strong feeling i did not deserve anything good in my life. so it was personal justice i exacted on myself, the better part of my twenties. then i hit the thirties and got a taste of freedom from my vices and moved to california. then the question of owning my identity arose. this would require courage and resolve. i could not conjure it up. i needed a plan and i got online and got with community and developed one.

i made a career move that fit my strengths and values. i was working so hard full-time school and job with a serious commute two hours each way. i still hadn’t put it all together, i mean, anxiety and depression and dysphoria were my lot. i had a few friends but mostly isolative. the pressures grew and i got heavy inside my head and i slipped up. years go by. you feel like all is lost. it can turn you against yourself. i was lucky to survive. i made it.

they.i.touch.carbon.letters

we put our letters in a metal box and in the 20th century it was the number one way to communicate in a nonverbal, confidential and intimate fashion. it was only 2020 and the post office and the library and the climate were endangered. i found all my documents. i looked them over and shredded them. i used the shreds for a nest for my endangered species. i am defiant. i will protect them. you cannot locate me in my inbox. my inbox may be convenient but it’s no fun. driving my car helps me calm down, despite a history of accidents, but i may worry about my carbon footprint. you cannot touch anyone anymore in a carefree spirit. you must ask for permission. personal space comes at a high premium. we are self-isolating with our phones. our tablets. our laptops. our desktops. pretty soon we won’t be talking anymore, and the word friends will be incomprehensible.¬† they will be singular. i will be plural. will we ever know a love like that, again?

i was a vape

you were vaping peanut butter cups

and blowing smoke

into space

 

i was shielded in the cradle

of a book

 

nothing beats a paperback the scent of adventure

and undiscovered worlds they

cannot make a juice for it

i boasted

 

then you found newspaper

print vape juice on

google

 

we laughed our asses off

all the way to the

store

impossible

in the city you may find her
weeknights back of the lot
expanse of sky above a fenced
square of earth to breathe
eyes full of sunset and
impossible math ruled out in
her forehead

tired of moving
cannot afford to stay
how can she tell
the kid