my initials are BA. stands for badass
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The Last Semester


whoever you are, wherever you exist
like glaring into a mirror, i see resemblance
humxn beings meditating about different shades of brown
all wanting to be seen, touched, heard, paid attention to
my loved ones mean everything to me now

in the last year or since Mommy’s passing
i scream to any divine being, screaming into pillows,
fluffy gateways to the sleep lord
for some explanation. mercy maybe
for peace of mind. for somebody to border
this loose sand
my body

11 months ago, i met somebody
20 circles around this earth for me. same for her.
march and april
together, everyday almost
back then
time bends over, catching their breath,
but only for so long
For some of the day,
my eyes outline pointed gem embedding space
below her lips, til meeting gentle curve of her grin
my ears capture the waving pitches of her voice
and even her sparse quiet
lulling my manic mind into cathartic calm: sleep
our arms entangling like a vine
holding together our loose sand

but before realizing meaning of
quickened throbs of
visible pounds on space above my protruding ribs
giving childhood Ugly doll
as placeholder for heart
the link between us
a vine’s strength
depression hammers in
depression borders my loose sand
no escape
no negotiating with this feeling
no control over me

it was my first love, it changed my life
back then, my mind never wanders to Mother
sweeper of mookat clouding eyes when i wake
i never reminisce about songs before my 8th birthday
the ones crescenDO-ING while i sit with Sweeper on car seats
feel like sheep

i realize they speak in a language
i do not understand
realization comes like a turtle
imagine sitting with Scooby Doo
in Mystery Machine
catching clues; snail speed
i wasn’t in the Mystery Machine
i was on the phone, laying in my bed
the same bed that holds me while my sand dissolves
a muddy mess

i lay there and told my dad how i feel
how my veins clench like a worm squirming in harsh ray of sun
when my eyes now outline
the sag of her grin
how whenever i think of Mom’s finger
brooming mookat from the 2 gates of my head
overflowing pools of grief do not pour from them
just senseless numbness

frustration and challenge
creep out the somber cell of my stomach
i tense knowing
retracting them can never happen
skin on skull tenses like turtle sinking into shell
his voice massages my sulking skull
his words, same as the last
tighten bolts in latches across my floating feet
his best, but my feet still rise like he
before morning celebrations of Sunday host
his words cradle me for only so long,
they tire and must rest

13 years.
allows understanding of his words
never my mind thinks
so many years circle by
imagine never solving the mystery.
no, the mystery still goes
i still lie in bed
telling myself it is gonna be fine
to let go
my hands, restless
still grasp for something
maybe her

i didn’t try to keep in contact with either of her
i don’t know how
i struggle to master myself; to border my loose sand
i still learn now

here's the 3rd revision of a poem i wrote a while back. kind of tired. had to design a lot of things for APIISERIES. skated for an hour. ran for an hour. waiting to do an interview. 

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