To my vocal chords ring
WISHIN’
That you could be me
You fall for me like Autumn leaves
I am pollen in the Spring
You love me, but I am your allergy

Last week I found my friend’s fake ID’s
One form Towson, Maryland, where she is 23
One form an address in Scottsdale, Arizona
Each card different, each with a new persona

oh my gosh what song is this
oh my god is it that song
that song i first heard
god it must have been the summer before middle school
listen to those horns
it must have been npr’s all songs considered

My brain likes to run amuck.    
Some days it gets stuck on the same thought:
You are in love with someone and they do not love you.
You ate too much today and are now chubby, too chubby in fact to be loved by anybody.

The streets,
full of people rushing to and fro.
Stepping on the paved concrete,
wearing it out slowly,
like nothing.
Night spreads through,
covering everything,
like a blanket.
The wind breezes past
the buildings,

50% Polish, 50% Russian 
I thought.
It all changed in Rehovot.
I flipped through the book.
The dining table crowded with voices.
“Tracing our roots” He said
Turning the page.
The faces of those like me 
gazed up from the page.

Pakistan and America 
Eastern and western
but they feel like the north and south poles
I’m immersed in the red silk dresses embroidered by hand and I’m in love with the ability to roam alone across this land

Unsure.
About the question, or the world?
Unsure whether to answer truthfully, or to fabricate a more intriguing narrative.
Unsure what the question implies: Fears,
(Spiders, bad grades, falling out of love)
or physicalities, 

Bounty brand paper towels; you know it by name
“The quick picker upper”, thirst pockets
Outnumbering the leading brands not only in price
But in absorbency
Who would have thought that a simple household object
Could be comparable to humanly functions?

I am the center of the universe
My problems are complex
My thoughts are intricate, my experiences unique
Surely no one else can live this way?
What a cruel realization it is
Such a curious paradox of existence
In the monumental movie that is my life,

Your tangy citrus grin
cuddles up against my lips.
Our palms, their creases and our fingertips,
collide together the way kiwis fit snug in their skin.
Harmonies pour out of our souls,
dancing in our laughter.

I wake early before the birds are stirring
Loading the car with all the supplies
Long drive in the dark with the tires whirling
I get to the land before sunrise

In Iran I am a rebel. I show my hair. In Brazil I am exotic. The nomads left me their yellow eyes to search the desert sand. Where I live, there is no sand. In America I am my age. Stuck in the in-between where nothing lasts. I am the enemy.

I was in the middle of Alabama, silhouette illuminated by the golden hour’s subtle sunlight, engrossed in a conversation with my cousin, just catching up.
He’d asked me if I was any better, and I’d told him that “at least I know my triggers now.” 

Two mirrors face each other, a girl in between.
The girl is me, stuck on the cliche of the introvert; on the outside looking in.
My problem is that I've always been on the inside looking out.

Trembling fingers, and one deep breath.
Eyes closed as the tips of his fingers
Grace the smooth edge of the ivory washed keys.
And the notes on the page jump out at him –
Decrescendo here! Forte there! A trill now!

And so the sun, in its dying fire falls,
Into the darkness of the night’s black realm.
The moon ascends into the sky, so stalls
I, to see its beauty and feel its calm.
But then come the stars, crossed in others eyes,
That we cannot in daylight seek to be

There was a time when innocence meant nothing to me.
She was a veil over the childhood I had
And took for granted,
And when she was stripped I wanted her back.
She was pillaged in the basement
of an old friend’s house.
She lay shattered on the sheets

I fall deeper and deeper with
Every scathing second.
My eyes are wide open now
And I realize that this is not a dream.
She turns inside me,
Her tiny foot skids the wall of my stomach.
I don’t know how she is a girl,
But she is.

Out there…
During the day, around everyone…
I can be the funniest guy ever,
a person that don’t care about nothing,
someone confident about himself,
and that won’t let nobody make him feel less.
But once inside…

The cheerleader who always holds a book
And the agnostic with an avid church attendance
Someone so silent and simultaneously outspoken
And the fiery spirit which silence most benefits
Her identity, though contradictory, belongs to her

Dear Me,
You lose in the end.
In the end, you cry for 6 months and spend sleepless nights wondering why you weren’t enough.
In the end, your bedsheets become tissues for your tears and your pillow becomes a microphone.
Sadness will shake the walls of your room.

my hair bleeds purple when i sleep
dark, violet, translucent in the way that sausage fat boiling on the pan is
before it touches a towel
in the way that a ghost’s imprint is before fingerprints are left on the kitchen counter
in the way that black bodies are

if I am to believe in anything,
i believe in the stars.
i believe in the glint the moon gives though a car door window.
i believe in the scattered freckles of lanterns in the sky,
eternally held in place until you
blink and they shift ever so slightly

I loved you
And you loved me
Many nights we stayed awake together
Holding you close
Every time singing
Rhymes of geese and shoes
Every night

I wake up
Brush my teeth
Then look into the mirror.

I see a kid
Who looks confused
About his true self.
I don’t know who.
But it isn’t me.

It’s difficult,
The business of learning a new language.
Words slip away from you like a skittish bird
But you grasp for them
And try to give them some meaning.

i screamed into the void until my lungs collapsed,
but she barely gave me a glance when the silence relapsed.
i called out to the stars and they gave me an excuse:
“hey man i’m sorry, it’s me, it’s not you.”

when you click your heels and wish for home, where exactly is it that you go? i packed away all my ambition in manilla envelopes of faded dreams and sent them away to coral reefs so schools of fish a generation after me could learn from my mistakes.

Imagine yourself in a room full of balloons in a variety of colors, all with little white string.
Each balloon is an event; a lunch with friends, a family reunion, a party, a date.
You try to be attentive and pick up a balloon, only to have it pop in your unsuspecting hands.