A bird sits high
High on a wire
Is where he can fly
Looking down
Other birds seeing, swaying
Falling – baby bird – drop splat
Everything’s alright he says
Baby died – daddy cried
Wasn’t until – breakpoint
Breakout – egg on my face
The yolks on you he said
But it wasn’t ever never ever -
The never ending story
Why isn’t it like that asks the bird
The bird on the wire
Sits and stares
And wonders why life has to end.
Just a little egg – was it a bird?
Daddy thinks so
Just a little fetus
Was it a boy – a girl?
Depends on who you ask

I look…as one often does,
I see a landscape scattered with those who see me in a way which I do not want to be seen.
I am seen as one like the rest, a reflection of my surroundings.
I am not seen as an individual who has emotions,
I too laugh and cry like the rest of you.

You are not the only one in this world – the rest of us are not just statistics.
You believe that you are in control of your life.
You scream, LOOK AT ME – LOOK AT WHAT I HAVE DONE WITH MY LIFE.
You see only what you want to see,
You do not see me.

You’re so transparent,
I know you want to be loved just like I do…just like the rest of us do.
Why don’t you just scream that out – SOMEBODY PLEASE LOVE ME!
With your entire body, you yell this every day.
So, why don’t you just whisper it to me – just once.
I know that you are begging from within,
Starving for the attention that you have gone so long without.
An attention that is real, not selfish, but a true love.

I know this because I know what I see in myself.
I too have a facade – I scream out for love, but push it away when I get it.
I don’t understand myself – I want to shatter these false images so I more than just a likeness of you.
I want to be loved – I want to love and experience the full joy and the full heartache of it all.
I want to feel all that you feel and know what you know.
I want to love with more than a feeling.

Walking alone…am I really alone,
So many people around me,
So many thoughts surround me.
Is it I who am lost or is it the rest of the world?
Caught in a whirlpool of control called a schedule.
If only I could see – but my eyes are so weary,
If only I could know, why this tornado in my head keeps spinning onward as though it had a mind of its own.
Is it really my head that controls me?
Or am I guided by the emotions that threaten to own me?
Slowly I change in many ways – evident only to those who surround me.
The thoughts around me…are they really from me?
In my head or in my heart shall I ever understand?
Lost as I am…ever without you.

Like a dried tomato
Withered and hopeless
With nothing left to offer
No plump, juicy seeds
No crisp crunch of ripeness

Where is the hope in suffering
I hear stories about it everyday
But where do I see it?
Sun-scorched and unable to reproduce
Where is the hope in that?

Demons ensnare and entrap
A viscous cycle of endless terror until someone prays for you
An unhealthy cycle of despair
How much of the tomato was withered by old age
And how much was eaten by ants?

A valley of depression leads to a mountain of hope
An endless cycle of reaping and harvesting
Every year the tomato will die
Every year more will be planted
Only to rot predictably – without fail

Death and life are a part of nature
Without which the world would cease to turn
God spins it into motion as He crochets the inner-workings of my heart
A heart that beats to the rhythm of life
How soon will it be dried up – gaunt and haggard like the tomato?

Yet there is still hope
A false hope? Maybe, but I hope not.
Time and time again the hope continues to come back
With a persistent whisper
It screams of its presence.

Breathing
You breathe on me the breath that sustains life.
Inhale. I come back for more.
I come to you – alone I come.
Exhale. All that is built up inside of me I pour out.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Faster and faster my breath comes like the pounding of fists on my chest.
The more I try to control it, the less control I have.
A constant back and forth of emotional manipulation.
It is too much for me to control on my own.
Terminate this life I now know.
Control me Jesus.

If only I understood the complexity of Your mind.
If only I knew that You had a mind like us.
It would be easier to put You on my level.
To see You as a friend…a lover.

But You are so much more than me.
You are so much more complex that You are beyond being complex.
And yet You still came down to my level.
You still want to be my best friend.

Even after all those times I harassed You.
I abused You with words and actions.
You offered me nothing but forgiveness.
And a never-failing love.

Got up this morning To the sound of sirens
To my left are my fifteen brothers
By brothers I mean others from Mexico

We’ve lived together these four years
In this tiny apartment complex
But we don’t care because we make…

Chorus:
Eleven. Eleven. Eleven. Pesos to each dollar we make
Eleven. Eleven. Eleven. Those pesos add up so fast.
They will make us kings when we travel back to Mexico.

Yesterday I cut my hand
On three knives as I was washing the dishes
Rob got his toe sliced off by the weed-wacker last year

It doesn’t really matter that we all took American names
To the government, we never existed
But that doesn’t matter because we make…