POEMS ON RECEIPTS

I have a bad habit of spiraling When the downtime of good times fades And the 7 Eleven fluorescent lights Flickers like fireflies in the night I stood unmoving Asking whys of things Looking for answers from my being I was told it helps to breathe I asked them how They say count to ten and inhale And I did But the air got stuck in my throat And daisies started sprouting from my lungs —-My mouth started foaming in my head instead - Alaska’s POV My childhood is a mixture fairy dust and scrap metals Daisies and dirt in a jar May showers and March summers Bruises from playing and bruises from leather belts Of harmonic notes of piano keys in the morning And sharp remarks of my Grandmother I did not know what, “No one will love you because of your attitude” meant At seven years old Until I was old enough to know I still think of my hometown’s gentleness Despite the subtle harshness of life And people’s passive aggressiveness I would love to be buried there still By the sea where we used to run around near the empty cemetery Despite the deadness, it was nothing melancholy I love my hometown But the people, not much. Not at all. - The Town by the Sea Fear is my friend It holds my hand, and reminds me of my unpreceded apprehensions I tell myself, “Life is fleeting, vicariously changing yet unchanging” And it says , “ Yes my dear, always”. -Truths and comfort I almost forgot sunrises are sunsets’ twin The other one says, “One more day, one more fight’ And the other just pat you in the back and says, “You fought a good fight, now rest”. -View from my fire hazard apartment