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I think this life isnt always what you make of it
seems like other people always got something to say
truth is, the people of this world are hella bored so they do what their told, then get lost inside the globe

i see clear as can be, dont let no thing bother me,
got a backpack, guitar, and harmony
speak spit heard only phonically
got words in my head that should keep me a trophy
number one spot i've had it
since the 4th grade
key is never let um know you have it

to some degree, you paint your own reality
i keep my eyes and mouth shut it's a good habit
i speak softly only when spoken to
try and stack cash like the government says im supposed to

i'm fed up with the push of others
those who make make me wake up early yet pretend to be my brothers
i want a house, i deserve it all
painted my own reality to get me far

another dimension is where I'm headed
tv cameras, coo cook clocks, and stanzas
running around like a chicken with my head cut off
they'll call me a celebrity, but never will my label of fell off
got a world of people yet to know me
imma come out to the town and say hello
see i place commas and my dots are honors
every t i cross is worth infinity
my words bring definity
painted my own reality
worked ten thousand times too hard and made a dynasty
its about time to look me up, my musics so good it's impossible to refuse it
i write fine, pen straight to ink what i think while i drink til its complete
i paint my own reality

He was the shadow of a lonely man,
struck by fire, and sparks, and the shock
of a long lost ghost, of,
the girl he had loved.

He lost his touch as he had fallen,
and had swore he was tall with
the faults of his own, but,
he lost like a petal
left on it's own,
in the fall of his winter;
he never did bloom.

He left his beloved in
the scent of his clothes,
when she faded with dismay,
and he forged her signature
like the deed to his soul.

He built her a home,
a set of bones, like a chamber,
in his only chamber.

Beneath his metal chest,
of a soldier who had lost,
and his love in his heart,
caged in like a menegerie.

There, she was safe,
and she was kept tight.
A little memento,
that she couldn't fight.

A lock and a key to keep
her in place.
She was locked in his heart,
and she couldn't escape.

But, alas, she grew restless,
and knew she must go.
But he kept her in place,
in his chamber, her home.

My Ideal Man:

1. Watch nerdy movies with me, you'll get my heart quicker if you love Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, or superhero movies along with me.
2. Be a Bruins fan please. Or at least a hockey fan, but Bruins is preferable.
3. Be kind. Don't do things just for yourself. If you see someone struggling help them.
4. Be patient. My family and I are nuts, and I'm so sorry about that, but we love with our whole hearts, and you'll never find people who care for you more, or will do anything for you.
5. Tolerate my musical preferences. I listen to quite a wide range of music, so bear with me.
6. When I'm sick, just let me watch a Disney movie, give me space (because when I'm sick I feel far from pretty, and have a tendency to not want to be around people) and I will love you forever.
7. Have faith. You don't have to be ridiculously religious, but believe in heaven and God.
8. Please have a functioning moral compass.
9. Don't question the TV shows I watch. (Ex. Game of Thrones, Project Runway, Friends)
10. Have a good relationship with your parents and siblings.
11. Be a dog lover, I'm going to want dogs when I live with someone (and I'm so sorry we can only get hypoallergenic ones)
12. Accept the fact that I tell my mum almost everything. If I know, likely she will know unless you make it very apparent that you don't want anyone to know.
13. Don't lie. Just don't.
14. Don't cheat. That should be obvious, but I've been through it before and I don't think I could handle it again.
15. Yes I'm a child when it comes to the little things in life. I love ice cream sundaes, coloring, Spongebob, and most adolescent things. Let it be.
16. If you have something bothering you, talk to me. Communication is key and I can't read minds, no matter how hard I try.
17. Be able to laugh at yourself, I do all the time at myself because most of the time I know I'm foolish.
18. Never underestimate snuggling. Unless it's really hot out.
19. Be spontaneous. Lord knows sometimes I do some strange things for no reason, but as long as they bring joy to someone or yourself, then do it.
20. Love with your whole heart.
growing list

I am pretty sure my love will be leaving me soon
for a woman whose skirt does not lift in the zephyr of her sadness:
we kiss and we tie
maraschino cherry stems with our tongues. The
same labyrinth puts rosy skin in our teeth, here is his pubic hair
knotted with saliva. When I think I have everything,
it just means that we are stuck together –
I realize it does not mean that we are happy together. I think
someone poisoned the water
with glue, and it is I who dispenses more to let my love escape me.
He is as happy as a child who has finished a puzzle
except for a single missing piece, repeating the movements
again and again. That has got to bring it back.
For seven months, we have been handed the gift of pretending I
can feel the inner-workings of who he is and why he is
and I am pretty sure he knows he never has
to pretend again. It is there in the silences: across the room,
across the ocean where hundreds of babies have died,
babes with mothers and fathers and parents who weren’t divorced.
All I hear is my love toying with a Rubik’s cube
he never learned to complete. I have a Magic 8 ball saying
I should let him go. I mostly worry about telling my mom, who will
tell my therapist and then we will have to
close too many doors. As long as I am sad, they are locked. A
key is stuck in the mud or in someone’s molars –
my room is empty, the air is quiet, and he has not even left me yet.

I have been licking the cream off
The nothing I was forced to cook from the book I bought.
I am Charles Bukowski waiting to rupture,
And tumble into forces of uncontrolled madness.
I dinge into fleeting, changing rooms
And become pages of yellowing, worm-books.
I write my own obituaries, each for a different
Person I have lived.
I make love twice every week,
And keep a count of how many times
He calls out someone else’s name.
I caution into keeping everything beautiful to myself.
I cup my hands and keep passion in my hidden chest,
And lock my doors with the only key there is.
I dine alone, I read in hushed whispers over single-serving thoughts.
And sleep where no one can put an arm around my waist,
And undulate the black-flavoured dreams I so carefully reared.
There is only one victory,
There is only one woman in the world.
It is I. It is I. It is I.

my body is a prison
from which there is no escape
and I am both the prisoner
and the warden

ribs are the bars on my cell
and my heart is chained inside
it beats on the bars,
begging to get out

but everyday
it grows weaker,
the beating grows fainter
and everyday
it seems my cell is shrinking
little by little

and Ana holds the key
I'm no longer in control
and she doesn't care
if my heart stops beating
as long as I'm not eating
there is no escape

-sg