It's been 329 days. 327 from the day I found out.

and I've been keeping count

327 nights wishing that the stars could exhale enough breath to bring you back.

Only 36 days until the sun(son) will have traveled it's full course completing this entire year of eyelash wishes hoping that your head rested comfortably on pillowcases of perfect mornings, that your feet were well traveled, and that your heart was full before that day -329 from now.

Digits, only numbers. No measurement of how I should have healed by now.

Impossible to recount the seconds with empty hands.

I've spend the last year hoping the sun could inhale and take me with you because forever now you've existed in the sunrise and set each day before that 329th and every single second after.

It was somewhere between infinity and fractions of feelings I can't connect with now. Knowing forever can't be calculated. There is no number to tag to the day you won't return and I can't comprehend any of this so I keep a tally of the days that go by and the nights where the stars are still breathing.

PSHT... I'd punch him if he were a woman!

I seriously wanted to punch one of my supervisors in the forehead last week. I mean now I'm not a violent person but I was bout ready to hop through the phone and slap him in the face with my "attitude" until he was unconscious and I'm not a violent person. I don't generally give attitude towards people either, I mean unless of course if fits the situation but I suppose it definitely did in this case. So this pile of shit decided that he wanted to not be helpful at all this day at work when other staff decided not to show up and then decide to tell me I had to stay what turned out to be 3 hours later after my shift had ended.. mind you my shit ended at 11:00 pm and by the time I got him on the phone to tell him about the lack of staffing it was 11:30pm. Now I proceeded to tell him how his lack of planning when he knew the staff wasn't coming in was not my problem nor was it my problem that the staff that was coming in to cover the night shift for another unit hadn't shown up yet either.. now this ass with lips decides to tell me I need to sit and wait it out until she gets there.. well guess what.... he deserved that attitude I handed to him. I normally don't speak to my "superiors" in any disrespect but this giant dildo really needed some sense spat at him so I told him where to shove it and that I was leaving when I hung up the phone.. he told me not to cop an attitude and then said "ya know what Shara, goodnight and goodbye" like it somehow hurt my feelings that I got to go home like I had planned... man fuck people and their wanna be difficult bullshit.. how bout people just do the job they signed up for and then there wouldnt be so much damn CRAP... psht.. needless to say I just got done pounding out a bunch of resumes for RD jobs.. let's keep those fingers crossed.. I'll miss working with the girls who live there but YO.. they don't have their shit together by any means in the upper management areas.. so BUMP THAT!

Letters from an Angel

I wish I could write a letter to heaven
I would seal my heart in an envelop so it could pump out a morse code

of emotion that only angels could translate
the beat would beat decibles of december's breath into holy waters making the tide part way to a change in the flow of life
a rebirth of a first coming beginning with heavenly bodies arching and quaking being takin before memories of mistakes make marks on minds
there would be no regret just an assurance that all measures were made sure of and we'd all start as angels so that feeling of first waking in the morning to another lonely day would never be met
we would know of nothing but cloud tops and man made mistakes
infalliable to infraction there would be no objection to dry cleaning our wings before we took them into the sun because the span of our existence only began the moment we became and

grass stains are a bitch to get rid of
laying on our backs looking down at a world that

would soon forget we exist
wrapped up in their Gucci bag full of tricks where

women have been made the bitch but still make the bed in the morning it's become in to put out before the flower has blossomed

to spread your seed so soon

it hasn't had the chance to become settled in the stamen

and stopping to smell the roses has become a

back seat fornication of our future
this revolution of our youth to become hard headed, gun totin, rock slingin, dough blowin, gang bangers

has got us wonderin if we should hide a 9 under our wing

incase shit gets rough while we're pickin up our dead from the streets
we used to get stuck behind bars of a song now it's a long sentence caged and the only sound is the beat within your own chest

tappin out that code thats been tellin you all along

your heart is not your own it's been owned by God this whole time

but we've left out faith in a building instead of in our children

hoping that he can undo your errors

so the pressure is off of your own self control
but you've spent to point that your dollar signs

have replaced your crucifix

and you're quick fix to a bad day is to buy a bag of weed and a new CD

of the same shit that's been deficated on microphones and airwaves before the day before yesterday

you've been nodding your head in agreement this whole time

to a rhyme where the only sense it makes is that it makes cents

rolled up and cashed in daily to this market of asstappin money hounds pissin down the throats of those

who keep their eyes locked on the next booty they'll be knockin on

too glazed over to feel the sun piercing irises

trying to turn a cold world warmer

wondering if another week of rain can finally give life to these roots that began after we came from heaven and

I've been writing letters to myself this whole time