3.23.16 whoever you are, wherever you existlike glaring into a mirror, i see resemblancehumxn beings meditating about different shades of brownall wanting to be seen, touched, heard, paid attention tomy loved ones mean everything to me nowin the last year or since Mommy’s passingi scream to any divine being, screaming into pillows, fluffy gateways to the sleep lordfor some explanation. mercy maybefor peace of mind. for somebody to borderthis loose sandmy body 11 months ago, i met somebody20 circles around this earth for me. same for her.march and apriltogether, everyday almostback thentime bends over, catching their breath,but only for so longFor some of the day, my eyes outline pointed gem embedding space below her lips, til meeting gentle curve of her grinmy ears capture the waving pitches of her voiceand even her sparse quietlulling my manic mind into cathartic calm: sleepour arms entangling like a vineholding together our loose sandbut before realizing meaning ofquickened throbs ofvisible pounds on space above my protruding ribsgiving childhood Ugly dollas placeholder for heartthe link between usa vine’s strengthsnapsdepression hammers indepression borders my loose sandno escapeno negotiating with this feelingno control over meit was my first love, it changed my lifeback then, my mind never wanders to Mothersweeper of mookat clouding eyes when i wakei never reminisce about songs before my 8th birthdaythe ones crescenDO-ING while i sit with Sweeper on car seats feel like sheepi realize they speak in a language i do not understandrealization comes like a turtleS L O Wimagine sitting with Scooby Dooin Mystery Machine catching clues; snail speedi wasn’t in the Mystery Machinei was on the phone, laying in my bedthe same bed that holds me while my sand dissolves a muddy messi lay there and told my dad how i feelhow my veins clench like a worm squirming in harsh ray of sun when my eyes now outline the sag of her grinhow whenever i think of Mom’s fingerbrooming mookat from the 2 gates of my head overflowing pools of grief do not pour from them just senseless numbness frustration and challengecreep out the somber cell of my stomachi tense knowing retracting them can never happenskin on skull tenses like turtle sinking into shellhis voice massages my sulking skullhis words, same as the last tighten bolts in latches across my floating feetthishis best, but my feet still rise like hebefore morning celebrations of Sunday hosthis words cradle me for only so long, they tire and must resttime13 years.allows understanding of his wordsnever my mind thinksso many years circle byimagine never solving the mystery.no, the mystery still goesi still lie in bedtelling myself it is gonna be fineto let gomy hands, restlessstill grasp for somethingmaybe heri didn’t try to keep in contact with either of her i don’t know howi struggle to master myself; to border my loose sandi 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. Bradley AfroilanMarch 23, 2016Comment Facebook0 Twitter LinkedIn0 Tumblr 0 Likes