moleskine ii

i write music and draw words

i make light being off

i make people mad by being on

i like to be silent and contemplative


i liked to write letters but

i couldn't make anything

until the borrowed pencil

taught me to draw my feelings


i like to be unreadable

but i'm too big to be hidden

i like to be hateful and resentful

but i smile a lot and like the sunshine


i used to be intelligent and

write about cells and things

ride purple busses into the distance

sleeping at the street because of naps


shared naps in high beds


i liked to be small but i grew up

and my heart didn't


and he realize he must be big

and be wide

he likes to mumble in different languages

hidden dialects, hidden in blood

hidden in my genes, travelers

looking for a better future


travelers dying in her dreams