Pluto Girl

Pluto Girl sings only songs without words.
She lives in the far corner of space surrounded by rocks and ice.
She is queen of the Unnamed.
She was given a name once
but it was cast aside
when they decided she was different;
even though she dances around the same sun as everyone else.
Her dance is cold and quiet and dark,
except when you’re standing right next to her
you realize that just because
music and light do not travel through space
does not mean they are not there.
Pluto Girl does not leap and bow.
She stands en pointe and twirls,
Prima ballerina of her wordless music box.
The warmth of the sun does not touch Pluto Girl,
but the shadows that should
were scared away long ago;
for Pluto Girl has embers in her soul.
Sometimes you can even see
the warm smoke drifting out of her
into space but most assume its
just the final whispers of her
name as she fades
into the Realm of the Forgotten.
Pluto Girl is queen of the Forgotten.
Pluto Girl’s obsidian eyes smile into space towards
all of her royal subjects
who cannot remember
what it’s like to have a name.
Some call her
            -Evil Sorceress-
but those are just the ones
who pretend that a Precious Metal
cannot be Precious if it
looks too dark or that
Black Magic isn’t Magic too.
Pluto Girl is queen of the Secretly Precious.
She protects her kingdom
of those who
glisten and
twinkle and
shine only on the inside.
Pluto Girl has no king.

Stars in My Eyes

I have stars in my eyes
Or so I’ve been told-
Epicapsular stars.
They glisten
And they twinkle—

If you shine a beam of yellow light directly into them while they’re under a magnifying glass.

The optometrist says they are not very common
And that even those who have them don’t have nearly as many as I do.
He says they make me special.
He says they make me unique.
He says if I’m murdered the police can use them to identify my corpse.
The cold, rigid body with the warm, sparkling eyes.

I’ve been told I mustn’t romanticize such things
But how can I help it?
I was born this way
With stars in my eyes.
Epicapsular stars.

A girl was killed last night.
A tall-ish girl with a long-ish nose.
A girl with straight
Brown hair and
Glasses and
No cavities
Stars in her eyes

Epicapsular stars

Diss Track in the Key of Childish Poet

You’re all high and mighty but
clearly not quite high enough cause
my metaphors can still reach right over your head.
You’ve got a mouth as big as a python,
but I’ll lay my truths so full you’ll choke if you ever try to swallow them.
(not that you’ve ever swallowed in your life)
I know my chirping sounds like squawks to you
but not everyone has peacock feathers so
some of us have to clean our gray plumage
and sing to find ourselves a mate.

You may think my priorities are out of whack
because I’m practicing probability
instead of listening to you,
but at least I know that
if I randomly choose one of my fingers to show you
there’s a one in five chance it will be the right one
(And a one in four chance if I don’t count my thumb as a finger
            -Which it is-
Cause I know just because something is short and fat
does not make it worth any less than anyone else.)

Even when you stomp on my sandcastle
cause you don’t understand the complexity
of my driftwood buttresses,
I am not at all distraught.
‘Cause my dad is Father Time and
he’ll remind me that the sea would have washed it away sooner or later and
’cause my mom is Mother Nature and
Her wind will swirl the walls and towers right back into your eyes
so now you’re the one crying
while I’ve already started digging the moat for a citadel
and this one will have hermit crab sentinels.

I still remember that time you told me
I reminded you of a dog cause
I yip so much and my hair is so scruffy
and I thank you for saying that because
I have two dogs and they kiss me every day when I get home
and sure they yip a lot, but that’s because they’re so excited to see me,
so if I get to be anything I think a dog is pretty good;
except I’d get pretty tired from wagging my tail all the time
cause the whole world is so incredible.
I think you forgot that dogs have teeth
but I never need to use mine
because you’re allergic anyway.
So next time you want to look at me like
I’m not who you want me to be,
Take a Claritin and get over it, because
I’ll never be who you want me to be and
even though I showed you my pinky today,
I’ve still got a one in five chance of picking the right finger tomorrow.