I’m feeling inspired to write again
I tell him.
He looks at me with a pained expression,
And asks if we’re ok
Yes, I lie.
Straight to his face. Eye to eye.
Fine.
He knows the truth.
I am untangling knots, picking them apart with my mechanical pencil
Click click click
pick pick pick
It makes him uncomfortable-
My introspective searching
Quiet Contemplation.
He is Threatened
by my creative Expression
And the eager teachers that I attract
Disrupting our delicate balance
With their beards and intellect

Now, this is a story all about how
My life got flipped, turned upside down
And I'd like to take a minute
Just sit right there
I'll tell you how I became the most non-human trafficked animal for my keratin hair.

In the west Philippines, born and raised
In the burrows of hollow trees is where I spent most of my days,
Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all young
Eatin' some bugs with my elongated tongue.

When a couple of guys who were up to no good
Started poachin' everythin' in my neighborhood.
My homie got hunted, but my mom made it through
She said 'You're movin' with your auntie and uncle in the zoo.'

I whistled for a conservationist and when they came near
Their license plate said “IUCN” and they had brothers in the rear.
If anything I could say they should drive me too,
So I hopped in the back - 'Yo, homes to the zoo.'

I
       pulled      
                       up to a building about seven or eight
And I yelled to my savior 'Yo homes, smell ya late'
I looked at my kingdom,
Where the poachers couldn’t get to,
As I sat in my enclosure as the Pangolin of the zoo.

The farmer in the field goes on foot
Sweating while ploughing
Harvested with much difficulties
But does not get the real price for his rice.

If he does not pay the loan installments
What will happen next?
The rice will go, the stove will go
Someone thought about it!

Speaking into the speaking stone
Listening to the listening tree
Breaking the breaking bone

Half empty green bottles smashed to sharp emeralds
Cans crushed into half stars
Passing cars like comets

In the dark place we find each other breathing
Console me with your tears
Bleed the last drop dry

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

I met a woman
brutal in her mercy.

Her embrace was a clinch
to prevent hard blows.
She pulled me close to push me away.
Seeing my nakedness
she leant me a dream
of chainmail and shield.
Taking love from me she gave a reprieve
to a mind resigned to the slow death of feeling.

Ignoring my words she heard
my faint silent heartbeat and
understood that it was music
too quiet for the world to hear
and turned it up louder
than I could stand.
I wept in my deafness
as she danced.

When people annoy me with their
constant complaining or their
non stop arguing, or even worse,
their illogical demands:
"For the last time, you can't buy
***** with food stamps."  Or,
"There is no way a crow took the
rent money out of your hands and
flew off with it."

What I do is close my eyes and
pretend they're squirrels chattering
in squirrel language.  
Then they don't bother me so much.
I just want to reach out and pet them,
or give them a handful of nuts.
It's not hard; half of them look
like squirrels anyway.