Wildflowers

There once was a young girl whose spirit

glowed with an unwavering passion and zest 

for life. As the years went by, there came

others who envied her exuberance and, unable

to accept their lack thereof, sought to dull her

luminance. One by one, they planted a seed

within her mind, each taking root between the

folds of her brain and germinating as destructive

thoughts. As time passed by, they leeched

away her liveliness and threatened to replace

anything worth living for. Until one day,

as if the clouds had parted for the first time in

years, she was reminded of how much power

lightness held. And in that moment, the seeds

that were once nothing more than malignant

weeds, suddenly transformed into wildflowers.

Hues of gold and violet and emerald blossomed

from within her mind. No longer was she trapped

within the confines of darkness. No longer would

she allow others to shade her brilliance because of

their insecurities.

And just like that,

she was free.

(b.m.)

Celestial

A star doesn't need validation from others in order to shine,

and neither do you, my dear.

Neither do you.

(b.m.)

Closed Windows

I'm 10.

It's a warm summer's day. So much brightness. 

I'm riding in the back seat of the car as mom and dad

happily hum to whatever's playing on the radio, 

with my brother next to me excitedly yelling at his 

Nintendo DS, dramatically waving his fists to the sky

in frustration. The windows are all rolled down,

filling the car with the smell of freshly cut grass.

My eyes are closed, head leaned to the side, letting

the warmth of the sun kiss my face while the

gentle breeze caresses it. I let my arm hang out of

the window, my hand floating in the air like a surfer 

on calm waters.

Peaceful. 

I'm 22.

It's an overcast summer's day. So much humidity.

I'm riding in the passenger seat of the car as my mom

drives in silence, apart from the humming of the air

conditioning. She has a headache. My brother is in the

back seat, body hunched over, face buried in his phone.

Mindlessly scrolling. The windows are all up, and all I

can smell is the stench of a road-killed skunk seeping

through the vents. My tired eyes fight to stay open as my

head slumps back onto the headrest. Dark shaded

glasses conceal my face. Hands restlessly fidgeting

in my lap.

Anxious.

And I was so quick to grow up.

(b.m.)

Fly Flying

I was watching a fly flying,

Listening to its buzzing buzz.

How quaint I thought this little fly,

How loudly I heard it buzzing by.

Wishing this fly would fly away.

Wishing this day would die away.

Suddenly the fly stopped flying,

And the buzz stopped buzzing.

I looked up and down,

I looked all around.

Until I noticed a peculiar plant,

Planted on the table’s top.

In this plant the fly was trying,

Trying, but failing at flying. 

Lured, it was, by a sticky fuzz,

And never again will it loudly buzz.

How silly I thought this little fly,

How sad I felt to say goodbye.

I wished that this fly would fly away,

And that this day would die away.

But now the fly is dying away, 

 And the day's no sooner flying away.

Now, like the fly, my thoughts too decay.

Now I’m wishing a fly would fly my way.

(b.m.)

Shadowed Identity

How did I get here, 

in this place so void of hope and joy? 

What once was light is now dark 

and all I can see is pain as stark as the stars 

in the night's sky. 

The fatigue plaguing my bones is what this illness does, 

making everything feel like this hazy fuzz and

I'm nothing but a shadow of what I once

was.

The magic blue pills that my doctor prescribed 

are supposed to help with this pain I've described

but it's hard to fix what's buried so very deep 

inside.

So please, try to understand that when you tell me

"it's all in your head" as if that's the answer to 

all of this dread, that I want nothing more

than to be dead because I would be rich if I got a

penny for every time I have ever heard that said.

(b.m.)

Riptide

It's something o'clock in the morning on

someday of the week. The softest light is 

peeking through the window, having just started to

stretch its rays and touch the earth.

The birds haven't quite woken from their slumbers just yet,

apart from a few lazily singing out their morning tune,

sounding as if they're saying "just five more minutes."

The only other sound is the rhythmic breathing of

someone in a deliciously peaceful sleep lying next to me,

buried in a sea of my soft white comforter.

The light has now started to stretch its fingers across the bed,

tenderly caressing her face and illuminating a

treasure trove of beauty. No sunrise in the world could

convince me of a more breathtaking view than 

the one here in my bed. 

Laying on my side so we're face-to-face,

I reach my hand out to gently touch her cheek,

enamored by the soft rosy hue and 

carefully arranged freckles.

Then, with a deep, life-giving breath in through her nose,

the most heavenly smile appeared beneath my fingers.

First one, then two, sleepy eyelids slowly lifted

to reveal oceans of blue whose rip currents

pulled me in with the promise of never longing for land

again.

And I surrendered to it. Completely.

(b.m.)

Unbreakable

You surveyed my body like you were
window shopping, deciding if what you saw
was appealing enough to come inside.
Thinking you could provide what I needed
supplied just by looking on the outside?

No.

Your mistake was confusing my glass exterior
with me being inferior and thinking you
could ever be superior.

There have been others that thought they
could break me too. Thought they could
shatter me with a brick and rob me of
everything I have.

How cute.

I've withstood the strongest of storms and
have yet to crack, because I 
am fucking bulletproof, and you are about
as dangerous as a water gun.

So let me be transparently clear:

You. Don't. Have. A. Chance.
So do us all a favor, and keep your
dick in your pants.

(b.m.)

Nature's Bounty

Does a river stop rushing in fear of
being too loud?
Does a tree hide its leaves in fear of
taking up too much space?
Does the sun dim its brightness in fear of
being too noticeable?
Does the ocean hold back its waves in fear of
disturbing the shore?

Do they?

Should you?

(b.m.)

Series: Ticking Clock

#1

tick
tick

Mind racing.
Feet pacing.

    tick
    tick

Hands shaking.
Heart aching.

tick
tick

Sleep delaying.
Thoughts decaying.

    tick
    tick

Mouth pleading.
Skin bleeding.

tick


tick




tick.

(b.m.)


#2

I got a splinter in my hand yesterday,
Still, the clock ticked.
Things didn't go as planned yesterday,
Still, the clock ticked.

I forgot to take my meds today,
Still, the clock ticks.
The loneliness spreads today,
Still, the clock ticks.

I'll breathe my last breath someday,
Still, the clock will tick.
We'll all meet with death someday,
Still, the clock will tick.

and tick. and tick.

(b.m.)


#3

The clock ticks 86,400 times per day.
It's been two years since you left without saying
goodbye,
and not one tick has brought me closer to feeling
whole again.

(b.m.)

Entitlement

Hello beautiful moths.

I want to focus today's topic on animals, given that I am spending my life dedicated to them as a career. Due to that fact, it may make me a little biased when it comes to human-animal conflicts, but there is a certain aspect of humans' (well, most humans') attitude towards animals that both saddens and irks me to no end. Because of the privilege humans have through the evolutionary arms race, I feel that we have an obligation to ensure the preservation and protection of all things living on this planet, although those that hold the highest power don't necessarily agree or treat that statement as a pressing matter at the moment.

Humans have a twisted sense of entitlement to this planet. Humans set the rules, make the decisions for how Earth is to be treated, and how it is to be depleted. When did this theoretical hierarchy come to light? Where in the scope of time did humans lose their connection with nature. Humans see themselves as a higher being rather than a part of a living system, part of a cycle that, due to our ignorance, has been disrupted. We don’t respect the source of our food, but rather have become desensitized to the fact that we are decimating another species’ population to a point of excess. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Excess. We take more than we need. A pride of lions does not kill for sport, nor do they kill more than is necessary. They work together to capture one wildebeest or one water buffalo, in order to stave off starvation and survive another day. See, we have lost touch with the fact that we are a predator in the food chain. We are accustomed to going to the supermarket and buying meat that has been killed and processed for us. Because of that privilege, we are detached. We aren’t able to appreciate the work that goes into raising an animal, caring for it, and in turn sacrificing its life so that we may have nourishment. 

I went to the farm across the street from me today to visit with the animals, whose fate is grim. The pigs gallop around in their concrete pens, seemingly excited at my presence as they immediately approach me. I watched as some touched snouts with another pig in the adjacent pen, as if securing their bond with one another. Like two people standing with their foreheads touching, synchronizing their breaths. The biggest pig approached as I came near, perhaps seeking companionship as she was alone in her pen. I scratched behind her wide ears and along the curves of her snout as she grunted in satisfaction, even closing her eyes, as if comforted. It almost made me cry thinking of how sweet her disposition was, and knowing what her fate was destined to be as an animal of production. I saw in her eyes a being capable of affection, understanding, and fear. It hurt to leave her to such a life. 

After, I paid a visit to the cows, who had much to say in their melodic moos once they had seen me approaching them. It’s hard to deny that a creature so much bigger than us has a higher capacity for emotions. They all stick their large heads out of the metal barriers as I walk by, curious of my scents and possible motives. As soon as I put my hand to their strong necks, I am stricken by how powerful, yet seemingly harmless, these gentle giants are. The fur is comfortingly soft, and cow “282” (according to the tags attached to its ears) extended out its head as I supplied some, much appreciated, scratches. I offered them some hay that lay out of reach to them, which they kindly accepted. I found that being too close to them meant my shirt being licked, which I found quite hysterical the way their big tongues flailed in the air. Up close, they are just the most beautiful creatures, and when I looked into their eyes, I could see not just an empty stare, but a soul looking back at me. Not some mindless beast to be coldly taken advantage of. But rather to be respected. Leaving them with a handful of hay, I said my goodbyes. Until tomorrow.

Before I end this rant, I want to emphasize that I don't have anything against hunting or famers that raise cows to eat, as long as it's done in a humane way and every part of the animal is being utilized. What I do have a problem with are mass production farms or hunting just for the sake of killing an animal. It's all about respect and plain decency. 

Appreciate and respect all living beings, moths. xo