Sign Off. Forever.                              (Updated) 

Words in my mind.

            Rolling, as the orange leaves engulf the trees. 

                        From my over-stimulated hypothalamus.

                                    My 32 by 22 inch desk pushed, in the claustrophobic room.

                                                Tongue trying to express the erratic heartbeat within.

Typing the pain away, as my pudgy fingers make the banging music.

            On my beige comforter with the wet, white pillow.

                        My knuckle keeping the memory in the wall for all eternity. 

                                    Keyboard dented with the pressure of the pain. 

So where did the small tubes with the long names go?

            Many heads moving in one direction. 

                        Thoughts I have while I am in my little corner.

This is why I resemble a ghost.

            Madness of the red cups in all crevasses of the 8,000 square foot home.

                        Needs of others met, while mine are flowing away.

                                    To a place never to be seen or cared at the 

                                                End.

Should I keep continuing the never ending typing?

            I can keep it all in.

                        Stop the others to visualize my black holes.

                                    It is the pain, put on the URL, seen by 2. 

I see the red engulfing the clear flow in the cream ceramic tub. 

            Am I ready for the final: 

                        Signing           

                                    Off.

Sign Off. Forever.                              (Original) 

Words in my mind.

            Rolling, as the orange leaves engulf the trees.

                        From my over-stimulated hypothalamus.

                                    My 32 by 22 inch desk pushed, in the chocked up room.

                                                Tongue trying to express the erratic heartbeat within.

Typing the pain away, as my pudgy fingers make the banging music.

            On my beige comforter with the wet, white pillow.

                        My knuckle keeping the memory in the wall for all eternity.

                                    Keyboard dented with the pressure of the pain.

So where are the people going?

            Many heads moving in one direction.

                        Thoughts I have while I am in my little corner.

This is why I am not seen.

            Madness of the red cups in all crevasses of the 8,000 square foot home.

                        Needs of others met, while mine are flowing away.

                                    To a place never to be seen or cared at the

                                                End.

Should I keep continue the never ending typing?

            I can keep it all in.

                        Stop the others to visualize the black holes in my heart.

                                    It is the pain, put on the URL, seen by 2.

I see the red engulfing the clear flow in the cream ceramic tub.

            Am I ready for the final:

                        Signing          

                                    Off.

The Commute                                (Updated)

Eyes move side to side as homes speed by,
"Tickets, tickets" last one out gets the fine.
Twenty's, Ten's, Five's pour out of my
wallet. Explosion, losing all it's weight.

A blending blue and orange blurs my worn eyes,
"This ticket has expired", I just can't pencil in the time.
His honey eyes looked down upon my demise.
Does he understand that this is never my ideal paradigm?

Eyeing the hollow bricks engulfing the rusting metal tube,
"Penn Station, final stop", the coffee dripping down my little finger.
Coffee, the rhythmic shaking in my hands, I forgot food.
Screech of the brakes, causing my eyelids to make it darker.

I savor every second of sunshine.
Will my eyes be able to stay open like a hungry cash register until lunchtime?




The Commute                                (Original)

Eyes move side to side as the homes speed by,
"Tickets, tickets" last one out gets fined.
Twenty, Thirty, Forty's  pouring from my
wallet, explosion losing its weight as the lady sighed.

Blue blending with orange blurs my worn eyes,
"This ticket has expired", I just didn't have the time.
His honey glazed eyes looking down upon my demise.
Does he understand that this is why I wish its summertime?

Eyeing the hollow bricks engulfing the rusting metal tube,
"Penn Station, final stop", the coffee dripping down my white cotton.
Coffee, causing rhythmic shaking in my hands, I forgot food.
The screech of the brakes casing my only thought as, caution.

I savor every second of the sunshine.
Will my eyes be able to stay open like the yellow lotus flower until lunchtime?

Comple                                                                   (Updated)

Like a baby bottle without its nippl
Like Coach K without his breathing tub
Like a smile without a mout
Like Cory without her head in the toile
Like a lollipop without the saliv
Like Alexandra without grey fog in her hea
Like a mattress without its sprin
Like Quinn without a knife at her wris
Like a jack in the box without a clow
Like Donnie without duct taped shoe
Like a home without a roo
Like Patrick without his barren 24 year old wif
Like a side view mirror without glas
Like Kim without stage 3 breast cance
Like a book without pag
Like Annie without her water bottle of Grey Goos
Like a laptop without keyboar
Like Mr.J without demensi
Like a wheelchair without whee

                21. Like The World Without Tears




Comple                                                                   (Original)

Like a baby bottle without its nippl
Like Coach K without his breathing tub
Like a smile without a mout
Like Cory without her head in the toile
Like a lollipop without the saliv
Like Alexandra without her depressio
Like a mattress without its sprin
Like Quinn without a knife at her wris
Like a jack in the box without a clow
Like Donnie without unemploymen
Like a skateboard without its whee
Like Patrick without his barren 24 year old wif
Like a side view mirror without glas
Like Kim without stage 3 breast cance
Like a book without pag
Like Annie without her water bottle of Grey Goos
Like a laptop without keyboar
Like Mr.J without demensi
Like a wheelchair without whee

                21. Like The World Without Tears

Can I?                                                         (Updated)

Her blue shirt sitting on the ribbons of her silver chair

Her hands thrown up high as her hair gets intertwined

Her necklace floating behind her long neck

She’s moving lower and lower

The forever moving stairs

My long limbs exerted the force to get the chair in motion
My task is now complete
As she on the path toward her given caregiver. 

Did I push strong enough? 

Did I give her all I could? 

The hairs on my arm straighten up. 

Racing to the entryway to watch from above. 

She’s getting to end.

Her legs are forever still. 

Her smile illuminated by 

The glittering fluorescence light above.

The counselor waiting below 

With a posture

So comfortable, as if 

The child was birthed from her own womb. 

All that’s left at the last step 

Is her 

Wheelchair.

Her body thrown like a spiral sprinting out of an old couch.

Her face covered with repulsion toward me.

The reflection in the wheelchair

Turns the darkest shade of 

Red.

Did I push too strong?
Did I give her all I could?

Can I?                                                         (Original)

Her blue shirt sitting on the ribbons of her silver chair

Her hands thrown up high as her hair gets intertwined

Her necklace floating behind her long neck

She’s moving lower and lower

The forever moving stairs

My long limbs exerted the force to get the chair in motion

Did I push strong enough?

Did I give her all I could?

The hairs on my arm straighten up.

Racing to the balcony to watch from above.

She’s getting to end.

Her legs are forever still.

Her smile illuminated by

The glittering chandelier above

The counselor waiting below

With a posture

So comfortable, as if

The child was birthed from her own womb.

All that’s left at the last step

Is her

Wheelchair

Her body thrown like a spiral sprinting out of an old couch

Her face covered with repulsion toward me

The reflection in the wheelchair

Turns the darkest shade of

Red.

Did I push too strong?
Did I give her all I could?

My Brother is Coming                 (Updated)         

The warm drops stream down my face,

As if the most horrific stabbing has been endured.

I can still hear the echoes bounce 

Off the walls of the room which separates me from 

Those who’s DNA to me is most similar. 

It is the cooking in the next room 

That keeps my heartbeat level elevated.

The continuous noise of laughter and kisses

Creates the irony of events outside my personal four- walled shelter. 

After the sounds of the enclosed fists

Pounding on the cedar wood begins to end 

I allow the oxygen to go smoothly down my lungs once again.

"Your going to be a big sister again."
The green monster within
about to expel the fire in his throat.
My fingers quivering with the roaring anger.

My parental figures
unlock the gold key hole from outside.
My breath stabilizes.

My body allows the steams of congratulations to enter 

As my brain becomes numb from the confusion of my erratic movements.

My Brother is Coming                 (Original)         

The warm drops streamed down my face,

As if the most horrific crime was being committed.

I can still hear the echoes bouncing

Off the walls of the room separating me from

Those people who’s blood to me is most similar.

It is the cooking in the next room

That keeps my heartbeat level elevated.

The continuous sounds of laughter and kisses

Creates the irony of events outside my personal four- walled shelter.

After the sounds of the enclosed fists

Pounding across my rigid wood begins to end

I allow the oxygen go smoothly down my lungs once again.

My body allows the steams of congratulations to enter

As my brain becomes numb from the confusion of my body’s reaction.