I turned to youon the fourth of July and the sky was quiet.I see the flags wavingbut I promise you,the breeze is a trick.

At eight, Pat Sajak said to mein a dream"You're not a loserbut You're not a winner."So, I became a poet.

Maybe tranquility is the dirt under my nails. I know it's there but I never feel like digging it out.

Today I was fisted by the sunIt's funny how Morning comesand you're just supposed to give a shit.

I ain’t nobody’s sidekick.I AM Batman And Robin, minus the mask, plus the vagina.

You have the will to flutter within you.

I refuse to be your batteryYou don't get to drain me anymoreYou don't get to charge me anytime for anything anymoreYou don't get to judge me-to think I'm used up and be indecisive dailywhether you'd like to get a new oneYou don't get to connect to meor keep testing meYou haven't saved up enoughintegrity to afford this high qualitybatteryThe only thing I will allowis for you to replace me-Good luck.

I see your emotional abuseand I raise youmy confessional poetry.

I hear they make greeting cards now to thank your therapist... for NOTHING