So you think you can help me

but what can you do?

If I tie a noose around my neck

will you tighten the loop?

Will you kick out the stool

from under my feet?

Or just watch as I dangle?

Would that be neat?

If I’m doused in gasoline

would you light the match?

Would a burnt crispy body

be a good catch?

Or would you rather leave

and forget I exist?

Just walk away

or run to the exit.

You say you adore me

then spit in my face.

I’d rather you deplore me

than give me space.

I wish just one time

you’d admit you hate me.

That you’d rather die

than love me or date me.

So I’ll just wait

for your next text.

We’ll go out, have fun,

eat some food, have sex.

I don’t blame you.

They’re all the same.

I’m not sure

what’s the point of this game.

But I’ll just play

cause you’re all I’ve got.

And yeah, everything’s fine

until it’s not.

"I was prostituted"

"I know, I'm sorry. The police will want to hear that."

"It was my roommate. She did it to me."

"I'm sorry."

"They did it on purpose. The homeless shelter. They knew."

"I see."

"I want an abortion pill."

"You'll have to wait for the doctor and talk to them about that."

"Oh.

Can I have something to drink?"

"I'm sorry I can't give you anything to eat or drink. In case surgery is required."

"Oh."

"I can't give you anything to eat but I'm not going to stop you from eating those. That's the doctor's problem."

"The homeless shelter gave me a tent. A tent."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"They don't care about you unless you have children."

"That's why they put me with my roommate. That's why she prostituted me."

"When you have children they give you food. And instead of a tent you get a house. And warm clothes."

"My mother never left me."

"That's good."

"I lived with my sister but her boyfriend was a pimp."

"I see."

"He prostituted me and she abandoned me."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"My mother never left me though. I never lose."

"What do you mean?"

"I never lose. I NEVER lose. My mother never left me. But my aunt took me from her and she wouldn't tell her where I was at and so I was alone but I never lose. Never. I'll find my mother."

"I'm sorry."

"My aunt raises my cousins. But I don't trust her with them. She uses them for EBT money."

"That's terrible, I'm sorry."

"She used me for EBT money. And my sister. She feeds them McDonalds while she eats well. McDonalds. She doesn't care about them."

"That's frustrating, I'm sorry to hear that."

"She raised my sister until she moved out with her pimp boyfriend."

"I see."

"I lived with them until he started prostituting me. I left. And the shelter gave me a tent. A tent."

"I'm sorry."

"But now I'm pregnant. And I don't care about it. I'll have it on the streets and kill both of us."

"That's something you'll want to tell the SANe nurse and doctor."

"It's about the babies. That's why they give us houses."

"If we aren't pregnant we get tents. If we are pregnant we get houses. They're farming us."

"They're farming homeless people for babies. They're prostituting them for the children."

"That's why they put me with my roommate. That's what my sister's pimp boyfriend did to me."

"California owns me. They own me. But the homeless shelter owns the children."

"See these crackers? They're made from the baby fetuses."

"After I have mine I'm going to kill us both before its turned into crackers."

"Before my aunt gets it and raises it for EBT money."

"I'm going to go get some water."

Ain’t I a child, delicate and fragile as glass? So easy to break, so easy to bend and to beat? So treasured and so valued. The very best, better than any jewel or cash. That single solitary fortune, who don’t know a darned thing? Worth protecting and shielding with all your mights and powers from a cold ugly world? The world I’m not ready for. The world who looks away when I do cry. When I do shout and scream for adults to hear my voice. I am a child. If I am a child then why is it us fighting your wars? Why do we bleed and die for you when all we want is peace? Ain’t I a child? Ain’t I supposed to be safe? You say, “love like children.” You marvel and you balk in joy at our friendships. Friendships colorless and hateless. Ain’t I a child though? A child don’t know nuthin’. A child surely couldn’t understand the ways of the world. The so important, so vital as we breathe reasons that “them is them” and “us is us.” No, course not. I am a child. And ain’t that why it don’t matter who I love with all my heart, whom makes me truly happy? I think too little, I feel too much. I must follow you, rage and burn, hurt and deride, anyone whom I don’t like and whom take from me from their hard work. When I have all the money and all the power.

I am a child so I must be taught. Taught how to speak right and write good. Speak soft and speak elo-quent-ly. Ain’t I a child? Don’t it matter when I speak? We do so your way, putting down our anger, making it bow to you to be respectful. We hold our fists, we temper our tones. I do it all your way for a pat on the head and dismissiveness in your placid smiles and rolling, frustrated migraines. We wear black to grieve fallen men and women. Boys who were our classmates, the girl in 2B who lost her Dad. We take to the streets not hurting anybody, because you do that all for us. You hose down the A kid in the high school, the girls with click-clacking hair making a few quick bucks. You hurt and you kill, you spray that cold water at us no matter our color black or white, entrap us in cages when we don’t smile and act like you want. You tell us we’re distracting, we’re crude. We’re rebellious and we’re spiteful. But ain’t I a child? A child doesn’t know hate. We don’t know violence. We only know how to love. We only get angry. I am a child. Excuse my pen for not writing so good but I ain’t doing it your way.

I am a child. So ain’t I supposed to be your future? The world ain’t yours no more. You don’t teach us and guide us, care for us for nuthin’. So we’re going to be angry. We’re going to raise fists to the sky. We’re gonna shout and holler and scream. Else you just don’t hear us. I am a child. I am your future, so, if you so do please, act like it.

Words fall off unless we lick them,

stick them to the recipient

the intrepid receiver of our slivers

of meaning built by our slivers of shivers.

When the letters line up

shine up

show up to show us up

just when we thought we glowed up.

Now to find out we went hard to stick those syllables

and lick those syllables

so they stay together to make a

merry weather day filled with words I hope stick and stay.

I hope they stay on my sticky note.

The one I licked for good luck before

I stuck it to your soul.

Driving down a dark road

in the utter darkness of November

where the nights begin to eat the days

and swallow them whole

like the Monsters of my youth; in a book I once read

we'll eat you up; we love you so!

The sky's an eternal slate gray and the air smells of burning

leaves, heat, furnaces, houses as bears lumber to their caves for the winter

As the mist creeps, sheathes the hill in fog

a few brilliant colors peak

from the blanketing abyss

a touch of vermilion, catches, the eye almost seems like the sun's departing shade

it's last hurrah

before everything collapses into the dark

and the Night eats the days

As I look to my left, I think back to a better time

I observe that the trees have the slightest bit of orange

I think to myself, “Finally, the autumn is approaching”

You may wonder why I’m so excited for Autumn

Maybe as to why I find it important

I enjoyed the activities of fall.

Carving pumpkins

Going on entertaining hayrides

Getting lost in corn mazes

Getting scared in haunted houses

I also enjoyed the beautiful colors

Oh, how I loved the beautiful colors of fall

Red, the color of my nose after a chilly hayride

The color of the apples we picked from the orchard

The color of the candle we burned daily

Orange, the color of the pumpkins we carved

The color of the pie with whipped cream on the top

The color of the sky as the evening sun is setting

Yellow, the color of squash we ate with dinner

The color of the hay bales we took pictures on

The corn of the ground of the maze

Red, orange, and yellow

They were also the colors of the once

Colorful, bright, beautiful leaves

As they fall from the trees, I think of the upcoming times

Leaves fall from the trees above, joining the confetti of amber and scarlet that flutters in the air. The pavement, which was once dull granite-grey, now shines aureate. Each step across the track ends with a soft crunch. A gentle breeze whizzes by and playfully kick up leaves back into the air. The world has turned golden.

I hand my daughter a stem of yellow leaves on the ground. She is one year old and still thinks the way of exploring the world is through her mouth. I pick up a red leaf and hand it to her. I wonder if it taste like cherry. The falling leaves mark the end of a season, the end of life, but I can't help but think for her it's a beginning. She doesn't remember last year. In her mind, she has never seen the leaves change color. For all she knows, they do taste like cherries. Or lemon drops. Or orange taffy. She has to try them all. I imagine what she will think when she sees snow. Or tries to eat an icicle. She has the entire world to discover. Witnessing it reminds me that I take for granted the beauty around me. I recently took an online test to determine my strengths. One of the questions keeps coming back to me. "Do you see beauty in the world that other people miss?" Do I put always, sometimes, or never? I see beauty around me, but do I miss some of it? Looking through my daughter's eyes, I can see there is beauty around me that I miss. And if I take a look, I might wonder at the toffee flavored leaves on the tree outside.

Yesterday's gloom carries onto today. The sky's soft blanket is just light enough that the warmth seeps through. What a soft cooling touch the breeze gives, like a warming hug in which to rest in. The chirping birds lay in wait, as to not take away from the charming hummers. The hummers make no waste as to dictate which flowers they shall take.

When the leaves turn colour and the air gets a little more crisp my heart skips a beat. Brisk and cool, it’s freshness is welcome and I breathe it in happily. The crisp air fills my lungs with pure joy, knowing cooler weather is becoming more consistent. I love the colour changes, as Mother Nature puts on her own fashion show. Speaking of fashion, one of my favourite things about Fall is all the new sweaters that come out to keep us warm on our adventures.

I love the crunchy leaves as I walk down paths or across the yard, and the gift of morning frost. Fall is definitely one of my favourite season.