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they gave me drugs to ease the pain

[my accident this past weekend]

they gave me drugs to ease the pain,
but they don’t even know my name…

they gave me drugs to ease the pain,
but no dreams to go to sleep,

they gave me drugs to ease the pain,
but not a tissue when i weep,

and now i sit here here really drained,
just trying to make it through the week,

they gave me drugs to ease the pain,
but no dreams to go to sleep,

they gave me drugs to ease the pain,
but they told me not share,

they put the bottle in my name
& made sure they kept it there,

so that they have someone to blame,
when all they do is stop and stare,

they gave HER drugs cuz she’s “insane”
but nobody thinks it’s fair,

that i have all of this pain,
& that she’s barely even there,

they gave me drugs to ease the pain,
cuz nobody really cares,

the memory of it remains,
i’m hiding it under despair,

I’m tired of playing little games,
with silly chance and sticky air,

they gave me drugs to ease the pain,
but didn’t tell me why it’s there.

it helps me numb the pain away,
but adds nothing to my worth,

the rivers pulling me astray,
and I’m just trying to quench my thirst,

they say to take them everyday,
my views have changed about this earth,

cuz they gave me drugs to ease the pain…
but they STILL, don’t know what hurts…

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Dear Artist,

Hello artist,
I need you to make me something beautiful,
I will pay you for your work,

I need a picture to hold on to,
And a sculpture to display,

I need to be okay to look at them both,
Every single day,

So paint me a picture that’s simple enough so I don’t get lost,
But not so simple that I would get bored looking at it,

Paint me a picture that’s vibrant enough to light up a room,
But not so colorful it’s obnoxious,

Paint me a picture that has texture, and feeling,
But smooth enough to let me know you were gentle,

Paint me a picture that tells an unbelievable story,
But believable enough so that it’s spectators never lose hope,

Paint me a picture that makes me remember YOU,
Because far too many people aren’t recognized for their work,

Paint me a picture that gives me clarity,
Because staying balanced in an unbalanced world gets blurry,

Sculpt me a masterpiece, your hands are like no other,
Using the hands you use to greet your mother,
Using the hands you use to fuck your lover,
I want you to sculpt everything I’ve tried to cover,

Make imprints of my secrets,
Use my bones as stencils,

Treat my flesh like a canvas,
Use my finger nails as pencils,

We need to make this beautiful,
We need to do it now,

I used to do it on my own,
But I have forgotten how,

This creation needs to come to life,
For it haunts me in my dreams,

I’m asking you to help me here,
For my heart—twists and screams,

It’s the only one who has real beats,
It’s the only one who bleeds,

It’s telling me to make real art,
And I’m asking you to plant the seeds,

Use your own chisel and paints,
But use the oils on my skin,

So that I can TRULY say….
I’ve been a part of something beautiful.



Your kindness is like thick mud
You leave traces of of love wherever you walk
& All kinds of things will come along and try to wipe it away over time
But those little grains of sand rock–
The tender sentiments of your existence
Will always remain on the ground you walked upon
To get to where you are today.

Sunday March 3 ASPB Poetry Slam

New month, beginning of the week– why not.

  • Spent most of the day smoking by the beach and writing a completely new piece for the ASPB Poetry Showcase. Performing a piece the same day it was written has always been a goal of mine.
  • 6:30 pm Got to the HUB to perform a piece I was literally working on thirty minutes before I got there. By the time I met Anis Mojgani and shit got real it was too late to change my mind.
  • 8:00 it was about my time to go on stage. My piece was basically me rambling but also sarcastically and conceptually diving deeper into the idea of having the undivided attention of a room full of a hundred strangers and “what kind of poet” i wanted to be in that time and in that space. What would anyone say for six minutes to a hundred strangers?
  • 9:00 Anis Mojgani was absolutely amazing. One piece of advice we talked about back stage before the show was making the time every single day to write. Setting time aside for all things I want to do (ironically especially things of artistic nature) is the best way to become the person I want to become otherwise I’d be waiting all day for the “right moment”. I need to get back into my “one poem a day” swing.
  • This also made me realize my poetry works best with a specific audience. my style is simply, NOT for everyone. i like that.
  • Smoking on the balcony, eating chocolate, with like minded homies talking about music, poetry, writing, grass, energies, poverty, spirituality, and life was the perfect ending to the night.
  • Image

One Saturday Morning

Subtle feelings of this moment could be said to be qualities of being in a state of “ekagrata” where the mind is relatively clear, has a direction, and can move forward– with one’s day, intentions, and contentment.