streetlights

phase i

rosy red sunrises bled warm pinks and soft paradises dissolved of sugar, nectarine hues blossoming in dried calendula petals dripping seabreeze of the coast. eerie pollution of greasy fumes erupting from the coal factory up ahead seep through the pores of the window screen. the clouds string along in thin outlines, fused of vanilla and god's tears of rain. the lighter sitting in my palm suffocates in gasoline and the unlit cigarette stands tall, like mama forcing herself not to slouch.

her velvet matte skin drops oil in invisibility, the way her hair sways in camellia oil and seaweed extract rubbed against her scalp, steamed like pressed diamonds amidst the gloomy dark. she shuffles into the kitchen, eyes distant and churning out butter for the untoasted bread. her eyelashes sit coated in honey, thick and plastered in confusion with every blink. the toaster wasn't working. she pulls out eggs from the fridge, the groceries enclosed by darkness and a flickering light bulb.

"i don't think you paid the electricity bill, mama. how are we going to eat?"

"your daddy is about to come home soon. just eat some jiffy cornbread mix."

"by itself?"

truth is, daddy never came home. blue sinks into his cheeks bruising his upper left lip in a eulogy of hospice and connecting the dots peppering his arms and legs. teeth decay and hearts get stolen, skin dark and rich as if poisoned in the gentlest way.

at midnight, mama grasps the bottle of whiskey in her palm and she soaks up freedom and shouts at quivery psalms as if the shackles of gentrification are lifted.

i fixed my crooked glasses and pour myself a cup of green tea. antioxidants drown my terrified smile and the projects of the shinjuku district garner earthquakes and roars from the landlord echoes like turquoise water dribbling into fish-infested ponds, waterfalls sloshing agaze.

delight strikes nerves and eyes flicker to half-hearted tears sliding down mama's face, the streets overcrowd with gunshotd and white powdering caking sidewalks, although recycle bins are bright green and plastic bags aren't good to breathe in. i dream of mornings stuck between honey nectar and bee venom, hot and sweaty underneath the humid hold of eternal summer shaking delicately in uv rays across my hyperpigmentated skin. god forbid a dream stays a dream.

breakfast tastes like cracked ribs and dusty marrow. bones splinter into sandalwood and irises unbloom, cracked petals reap willow weep tears and baby daddy sing songs, breakfast lies in a puddle of oil on the counter, stripped of black sugar and cleansing flesh of sin that melts away into balm and beeswax. the terrified smile faintly subdues, when i cry, they come out blue.

yolk isn't as yellow as blinking sunsets, when eyes open groggily and mama's wedding ring blings untimely off the horizon. i threaten myself to let them out, mama tells me everything is gonna be alright. bed bugs crawl up my arms, hot chocolate spills over and sweet angels wrap their wine stained tongues around my shoulders and wisp frothy fog into my dehydrated skin.

i like to forget that mama are the angels combined, sometimes heaven burns so bad, i can't keep my feet on the earth the majority of the time.

time travel 2006, lollipops get crushed and the other half of the white stick lays bent. dentists put my teeth in charcoal sheet plastic, a syzygy of mouth to cough syrup bloody and cupped of leathery palms, i'm squirming on the 'bed', heat against my gums isn't meant for me. mama was so young, dark circles nonexistent and she didn't look numb. her fingers skimmed magazines, lips slender and plump like the smile etched across her face as she made conversation. i was so happy she didn't have to talk for me.

sloppy tears cascade in rivers when the doctor with tender eyes dplots the rotten tooth from between my irritated gums, the pain reeks of bubblegum mouthwash. mama strokes my curls with her scent of herbal tea and smiles.

daddy would be sitting right there, impatient, knotting papers into two and plotting points on a graph of who gets those seven grams that night. i don't care becsuse mama is gentle and herbal tea is nice to smell.

present leads me back, i got cavities and toothpaste bubbling up in suds, mouthwash, or that floss sitting in the corner of the sijo won't help. cherry dented lips squeeze out colors the rainbow can't define, indigo buses whizz by in marshmallow and gasoline, ruby shoes crack against pavement and sterling silver earrings alight against the coalescing glass retained of glittery soda.

i sit in silence, the shinkansen streaks, the sirens wheeze in the distance. my legs cross together like anger hitting sour mouths and distorted faces' replacement, the buildings morph into mere holograms of liquid. voices resonate through my ear buds, concrete.

life is a movie, after all.