After reading Neruda's poetry

I don't know if it's it,
if it must be. must it be?
if it is, why am i not sure
why is it not known,
why, so obscure.
Is it? or it is
I'm not convinced,
I'm not giving in. Must i give?
in-out, out-in,
wanting more, not this but that,
but wanting more of this too.
I don't know if it's it.
But who else would
Only me
only me asks, and only I must answer.

Beauty of Installation Art

Later today a missing child will get reported.

No. Not in reality.
One man's only working sperm will get defeated by the flush.

genetics

there are two kinds of parents in this world:

the kind who don't care and it hurts, and
the kind who care so much that it hurts

Slurs

Broken. Broken.
A little more broken.
A little less shaken.
A lot more taken.
The brain squeamishly gives into these thoughts.
Fighting through the wind, praying for a drought.
Times, some are curving your way.
Some other, they are looking away.
The waiting room is full of webbed feet,
I stopped myself from staying,
and walked out the wrong way.

Piecing. Piecing.
A drop at a time.
A little less broken.
Some more shaken.
A lot less giving.

scarlet

'cause when the sun sets in the sea
and you are swimming in it
it dives into you
rising for the night