Our Desires

I want you
to make love to
someone else.

I want you
to feel their hot flesh
inside you.

I want you
to forget about me.

Completely.

I want you
to tear your heart
away from mine.

I just want you
to go away.

I know
you want
the same.

I can hear it
in your high pitched voice,
when you tell me,
I love you.


I know
You can hear it too.

Listen.

Lions Listen

I can't hear the cries
of my ancestors.

I can feel them
in my bones,
my blood,
my flesh.

But no stories
of their lives,
no wisdom,
no laughter,
no mistakes.

Silence.

This can't continue.

Future generations
will know who I am.

They will know
my flaws,
my victories,
my weird, distorted perspective
of this world.

They will have pages
and pages
of my voice.

They will not be deaf
as I am.

They will know
where they come from.

They will
hear my cries.

This Is The Cure

Every winter
she slips into a major
depression.

This has been happening
for eight years.

There is no way for her
to shield herself
from the piercing pain.

Her grief will last
a lifetime.

Every winter
she tries to kill
herself.

This has been happening
for eight years.

Her family
has
tried to convince her
life is worth
living.

Easier said
than done.

She survives,
the heat lifts
her spirits,
but eventually spring ends,
summer melts away,
fall falls out,
and the winter
comes again.

There is no way for her
to avoid
this reoccurring holiday nightmare.

There will always be
that cold, unforgiving breeze
reminding her
of her loss.

She's tried everything
to forget.

Therapy, pills, cutting.

However,
she's not tried
trephination.

It's illegal here
in the states,
Mexico's another story.

I'm even saving
my money now.

It's the only solution
I think
will work.

Soon, she will be
in the desert
with a hole
in her skull.

Then, the doctors
will sow a piece of
thin skin
over it
and send her
on her way.

She might have to wear
a helmet for
a lifetime.

That wouldn't bother anybody,
especially me,
because I want her to live
through every season
in an endless heatwave,
in an endless bliss.

Helmet
and all.