Little Dead Fly, Stuck to my Finger

Little fly, most would neglect,

Only bigger than a breadbox deserves our respect.

We’re a broken, hurt and flawed world,

But I’ve learned to disconnect.

Back in the Deep-Fryer

“There are good people in my life,

Blessings in human form,

Full of toxins that have deep-fried the azures and scarlets and oranges

From their souls.

I can feel my skin bubbling, and I’m submerged.

“The reflection in the mirror after 4 years at UMass will not encase me in who I’ll be for the rest of my life.

All we can do is move forward.

What a beautiful gift of a ‘can’ that is.”

I pace over my torn carpet, taking slow, deep breaths.

I know today is a stress volcano,

But I’m charging myself through its brunt, welding anthem in my pocket, hands first.

“I can do this. I can surmount this. I am strong.”

It was a regular Thursday. Wax oozed from the walls and the pores of our faces. We stepped through the … More

12:24 PM and the day’s already been lived-

Everything else is necessary overtime.

I swipe hundreds of cards but couldn’t unlock my own door.

My laptop, like myself, incapable of charging their battery.

I’ve listened to maybe three songs in the past week,

But everyone keeps asking me to describe how music makes them be feel,

And be smart. Eloquent.

I take my drug To turn the fears that consume me Into trophies to hang on a mantelpiece.

Fifteen minutes is all you need to make a difference.

Skate across the pond touching baubles of different colors,

I know I am enough.

“I’ve become the blue-hearted tactician

Who wishes to peel the muscle from their backs

And shape them outward to turn to wings.”

“Rhythmic Bopping speaks languages

That English and Energy share a stake in.”