You know this never should have happened.
I was never suppose to write a single poem.
Let alone have followers, comments and views.
But here we are and I have you to thank.
And this is my thank you to you all.
My first round of 'thank you's' goes to my followers.
Devlin Andrew Harris, who is quite remarkable, followed me before I had even written anything.
Charlotte Weigh, my most favorite person in the whole world
Nicholas Jones, you were inspiration behind 100 of my poems; yes I counted.
Alysia Michelle; if you ever find yourself in Oregon we'll get some donuts ;P
Harry J Baxter
Nolan Fillman, you have no idea how much your following me, liking my poems, and comment meant to me.
THE WHITE RABIT
Floyd Allen Michael Redenbaugh
Nat Lipstadt, who is beyond brilliant and honored me with being a subject of his writing
Jonny Angel, thank you
Miss Jade Murder
Emily Rose Williams
Timothy, the nicest commenter ever
Peyton, she's pretty fantastic
Tyler Lynn Pulliam
Fadi Shaker, thank you
Kevin Song, sorry I'm not much of a talker
Soul in Torment, beyond words of the skill this one has.
Kelly Rose, thank you
Bailee K, missing you girl
Bilal Kaci, thank you too
Blue K, greatness she has
Tristan Costello, hello
Sadie K, the one with her hands covering her face
Queen of Pancakes, yes you
Whit Trash and Retarded
Ryan Cullen Macleod
The Masked Sleepyz
Okoye Chude Maryanne
and Haley Madison
Next my thanks wants to go to those who took the time to like and comment.
Ernest Gone, one of the first
Joshua X Noheart
Joshua Wann, this guy is the stuff
Andrew Joseph O'Donnell
A Mess of Words, you have no idea how highly I hold you. If this is a 'mess' I hope it never get's cleaned up
Austin Skye, thank you
Heather E Perry
4 different ---, why are you hiding from me?!
I wish I could cry
Kitty named Bailey
Whinging Wonder, I'm sorry
Chandin Clinton, I was never more honored.
Enter Name Here
Sally A Bayan
Yong Hwan Son
Rose Saba, thank you
The Wolf on Red Street
Josh Nunn, hats :)
N, hey you
Michael J Davies
Alexandria Christine Lund
Andrew Siegel, thank you
and Jade Ellen Peel.
And of course to all of you who read my words.
That means a lot to me.
And sure I could have simply said
"I hit 20,000 views thank you all!"
But honestly it means SO much that I needed
to thank each one of you individually.
I am know the pain and frustration of having a name misspelt so let me know and I'll fix it :)
You turned my head and gave me a rosebud hickey
upon my lips,
and spoke the words that I get high on...
"I love you"
You told me to quit my worrying
of you slipping through the floorboards
of my wooden heart
with bent and broken nails
You kissed her hours later
while I was alone
missing you and your
So why not just take the halo floating around my head
that you placed,
and put it around my neck instead?
and hang on every word
that drips off your lips
leaving rope burns on my neck
stopping my breath
because I breathed
your air, and as you spoke
less and less,
I was suffocating.
2 new messages
"yo,washat yuo doisn"
as if you had downed a bottle of rubinoff
lets see: well go to a sketchy party
get into a different mental state
and you'll leave me at the most vulnerable
state of life
wake up: ill go to work
bruised knees from you car, hickey filled neck, and nauseated
leaving territorial marks on a body that is not your territory
breaking all the rules of secret late nights
you wake up:
sleep in, and then tell me about what it is like to be older
as if you have responsibilities
i: needed the opinion from a pathetic sad eyed liar
now: with all my friends lips upon yours
You may call late at night if: if they wont end up between the bed sheets
late at night :if their curfews too early
late at night: if you want to make somebody else jealous
late at night: if you find them boring
well, asshole: its "late at night" and I am fucking sleeping
now: maybe i would be seeing someone better
but- i have to wait for the trade mark you left on my neck to fade
so, i'm not sorry for the ignorant spelt texts with no response or for the four missed calls
p.s. if: you're still thinking about calling "late at night": know that
because of you each night i set my phone to silent
sweet dreams, learn how to spell.
You wrote me a love letter.
A different kind of love letter.
Not the handwritten kind.
You wrote me a classic love letter.
On my body with your mouth.
Signed with a hickey.
I want to write you a love letter too.
Not the handwritten kind.
The kind for the whole world to see.
How much do you have to know about a person before you can call them friend? How many conversations do you have to have had before you’re allowed to mourn them?
When you hear these things in the news, you never think about them too long. It’s a fleeting headline, a momentary pain in your stomach if you put yourself in the shoes of the family, or friends, or even the one lost.
But you, you were just like me. We lived on the same floor last year; you lived three below my best friend this year. You walked the same sidewalks to class, ate the same food, complained about it in the same ways. You probably drank the same beer. We were connected. You were a student here. Just like me. You were someone’s child, you were 19. Just like me.
Nothing bad was supposed to happen to you. Not here, not in this place. The headlines are just supposed to scare me; they’re supposed to be reminders to use the buddy system and tell people where I’m going. They are not supposed to bring us bad news about the people we knew; they’re not supposed to cripple us…
I had seen your face in the Hickey, in La Verna, at basketball games, freshman year I used to run into you on my way to the trash room or a floor meeting, and now, now I’ve seen it on the news, in the notice board email that told me and all our peers that no one had seen it since Saturday morning.
…Did you get that same email? Is it going to sit in your inbox like a ghost forever, a reminder to no one that you were not safe? A phantom of the hope that maybe you were.
You weren’t okay.
"Family expresses appreciation to campus community
It is with immense sadness that we advise the campus community that the Cattaraugus County Sheriff’s Department this afternoon informed University officials that they found St. Bonaventure University sophomore Tyler S. Davis deceased near the west entrance of the campus. We are sharing this information with the campus community now that police have confirmed that Tyler’s family has been notified.
Tyler, from Rochester, was a History major at the University. His family has expressed deep appreciation to the campus community, police and emergency response officials for their efforts.
As we mourn this terrible tragedy, the University Counseling staff will remain available from 5 to 7 p.m. today in the Devereux Hall Lounge and University Ministries in the Thomas Merton Center. He will be remembered at the 7 p.m. Mass and all members of the campus community are invited to a prayer service at the University Chapel in Doyle Hall at 9 p.m. tonight.
Individual residence hall meetings will be announced by residence life staff shortly.
We know our entire University family will keep the Davis family and friends in thought and prayer at this very sad time. If you have any information that you think could be helpful to the Cattaraugus County Sheriff’s Department as they continue the investigation, please contact them at 716-938-9191.
Sr. Margaret Carney, O.S.F.
How much do you have to know about a person before you can call them friend? How many conversations do you have to have before you’re allowed to worry about them?
When you hear these things in the news, you never think about them too long. It’s a fleeting headline, a momentary pain in your stomach if you put yourself in the shoes of the family, or friends, or even the victim.
But you, you, you’re just like me. We lived on the same floor last year; you live three below my best friend this year. We walk the same sidewalks to class, we eat the same food, complain about it the same ways. We probably drink the same beer. We’re connected. You’re a student here. Just like me. You’re someone’s child, you’re 19. Just like me.
Nothing bad is supposed to happen to us. Not here, not in this place. The headlines are just supposed to scare us; they’re supposed to be reminders to use the buddy system and tell people where you’re going. They are not supposed to bring us bad news about the people we know; they’re not supposed to cripple us…
I’ve seen your face in the Hickey, in La Verna, at basketball games, freshman year I’d run into you on my way to the trash room or a floor meeting, and now, now I’ve seen it on the news, in the notice board email that told me and all our peers that no one had seen it since Saturday morning.
…Did you get that same email? When you turn out okay, will you read it and shudder at the memory of being lost? Or is it going to sit in your inbox like a ghost forever, a reminder to no one that you’re not safe?
Please, just be okay.
"The Cattaraugus County Sheriff's Department and Safety & Security officers are seeking the help of the campus community in locating a St. Bonaventure student who's been missing since very early Saturday morning.
Tyler S. Davis of Rochester, a sophomore who lived in Devereux 105, was last seen shortly after midnight Friday leaving a party at 84 E. Union St. (referred to by students as Animal House) and walking toward campus.
Tyler was last seen wearing jeans, a red sweatshirt, and a flat brim hat with the image of an alligator drinking a beer.
Tyler is 5'8" and about 130 lbs. (see attached photo).
Anyone with any information about his whereabouts should contact Safety & Security immediately at 375-2525."
I can hear you two wrestling in
the other room. she says 'want
some grape-fruit? it heals bruises.'
I think of the hickey, I think of her,
I think of you- - - and I begin to hate
all three of us. I'm as confused as your
lack of regret. I'm as confused as my
sizzling heart, and the key to the lamp
-shade begins to melt away as I think of
you and our repeating cycle. what keeps
running through my head is an old Native
American proverb I once heard in Sid Meier's
"Chase 2 rabbits into a forest, and you can
expect to lose them both."
there is an undauntable light in my eyes
and a hickey sliced warmly across the middle of my throat,
and the half-lingered and utter warmth of your hands in mine.
there are murmured "i love you"s
and unsuppressed smiles
and the promise of
seeing each other again.
there is rewarded patience
and the warming of my long unkissed mouth
and there is the reassurance that
yes, it was worth it.
I miss you
Home is whenever
I'm with you
I miss staying up
just looking at the stars,
and getting coffee at
I miss making you
and all the times
that I was falling
madly in love
I remember when
you drove to a random
Walmart parking lot
and we just sat there
and I almost
cried in front
I just miss being alone
I miss being your
and rearranging all
of your Yugio
into a perfect stack.
I remember I sat
because I liked you,
even though there
were other open
spots at the table.
I long for July.
The month that
changed my life.
Why cant we go back?
To waking up early,
just to see you.
And stealing kisses
in the dark.
I was so proud,
to have that hickey
on my neck,
I couldn't help but
knew it was from you.
Please come home to me.
Because it hurts too
when you're away.
That was me once… what you see in tv shows and movies.
That undeniable attraction, that oh we’re alone lets make out and touch because we’re teenagers and in love.
That was before I was even interested in girls and yet that was me. When girls came around… well only two have and with one I was ashamed to be with like that to begin with and generally just faking it and disgusted with myself when I was around her. and the other…
I can only assume she was ashamed of me…. She certainly never wanted me like that though.
But I had that! And with boys I wouldn’t even consider touching now!
You know the other day I saw a picture of a hickey and I couldn’t figure out what it was.
I haven’t had good sex since I was 14. Maybe once when I was 17.
You wonder why I am still so obsessed with Cadio? Not because he was my first but because he was my best. Yes, he was an absolute shit head and young and rude but… somehow he was still the best relations and relationship I’ve had.
and what the fuck is that
he is the reason I still occasionally doubt if I even am gay- or, not him so much as that I haven’t Had a good girl…ever actually.
What if this is part of growing up? Do people no longer want each other like that now that we’re “mature"
because fuck that. I have had that TV romance and if I can only be a teenager to experience love and lust like that then send me to Neverland.
I just want something passionate. I am so desperate to feel wanted it is pathetic.
maybe that’s why I am uncomfortable in public with her? because it doesn’t feel right. because that spark isn’t there.
There is nothing to push me out of my comfort zone, no driving force to give me the courage to think “fuck other people. I love you and want to kiss you"
Some times I think she just wants me to kiss her in public because it is in public… not because she wants to kiss me
Is nothing in my life about love anymore?
Why do I only see love as this carnal passion. She wants me to be content with how she loves me…this estranged lukewarm bottomless stew of mild contentment and comfort.
I have sunk to the bottom of the pot. I need…tension… sexual tension on the line to pull me up from the dregs of my own self pity.
Thats why I am so excited for pride parade and for college.
They are glimmers of hope, hope that I may find someone I feel that kind of tension with.
It is not that I don’t love her. I do.
But it is all but the love best friends share now a days. I do not pine for her while she is away.
I do not daydream of her loving me, it is a faceless stranger that finds its way into my fantasies. I no longer long for her caress obsessing the way I once did. Even now my eyes no longer fill with tears at a two year long rejection. At the thought of how she only showed she wanted me twice in that time.
Yet watching Skins, watching the L Word, really any show designed for the satisfaction of young adult lust, is what brings me to tears.
I am afraid I wont experience that again. That perhaps I never will.
Leading me to the unending question that haunts my conscious and subconscious mind… Am I really so undesirable?