Prescribee

prescribee
\pri-ˈskrībē\

noun

to witness unbearable negligence and make no sound
to stay sane steadily
to place music next to a pulse before a rookie serves in the military
to suppress prediction when a citizen receives the order

The Government Makes Me

lie if I want a visa. They paint me as
a bunch of aloe. Locked fluid inside
my skin. But I’ve become a cactus
by adjusting to dryness. Others suggest
mimicking a rose. That’d make it easier to
be picked up. No one appreciates aloe,
squeezed, swallowed, or applied
on skin in summer kitchens
only. Check the box for venus flytrap
to sign up as an immobile predator. 

None of the above dare to grow roots
until the government announces
that all of the thorns build a fence
preventing connections from
another side. Thus, my answer oozing
from the polygraph is nimble.

Filariasis 

Let go, you are
Fake in a green carpet
Gentle in a bombast
Stinky inside a blanket

Yesterday you went to the House of Cards with a sparrow in your stomach. Flying above
the roof, the feathers made you cough

Let my

Honesty drive you to the purest sea
Grumpiness pilot you an unlimited outline
Hypocrisy donate your demand to a traitor

Today you arrive in the gardenia. Your vehicle, a pinwheel. But our dreck doesn’t come true. The delivery service sends you a thorny compliment

You kidnap my insecurity in exchange for your identity
You have been to thousands of islands but have only earned one ship

Tomorrow you will land on my chest with a slice of waterside. You will sleep tight
with my spelling of lullaby. You draw a landscape, addressed to me, then tuck in a statue of dignity

If I Were Born in America 

I would be proud of who I have become
My bone would bond with the land
My nerves would begin to burn from truths 

To form a nationality
I would tangle with refugees and it is not because  

History makes them
History makes
A superior America
Where a killing manifesto
Had been written 

To seek a phonograph to assemble
Freedom

Have I held chronology upside down
Have I traced the trail in a forgotten map
Have I enforced an agreement by diagonal law 

In an inescapable
Inseparable
Inevitable saga
I stay invisible 
Invisionable until 

The empire murders itself
With foggy heroism
I’ll volunteer to be an
American obituary writer

The photographer took my photo and claimed I’m the immigrant dwelling

inside his essential project;

I took a picture of my blood orange cocktail,
Revolución, in front of the NYC skyline and labeled
it in my album. 

Never owned a cock nor overthrown any art forms,
this savory drink soured to
hen blood, truth or dare 

Tweaking my cheek with the same posture as
the photographer gripped the steering wheel
securely on his imported car. 

I requested of him,
Sir, I no longer want to participate since
it’s dangerous to expose my condition.
The butterfly net in the same position as
the camera blocks your view. Look out!
The ladybug perched on my face is alive &
not for catching.

This male American photographer wouldn’t let me withdraw
due to a previous misconception
he grasped my legs and complimented his exotic ex-wife casually

I emphasized,
I rebuff to sell my wounds or I shall be the seller who
sets a price.

He admired,
How beautiful, you’re still a monster that
submits to my amusement.

Bees collect resin outdoors,
westerners preserve the time in a jar.

Cracking me to your gold fever,
insects keep shivering in the wild.
Everybody is invited to the exhibition.