One of these days
There's going to be a snapback
That says
"Be different"
It will become the most popular snapback ever
In the history of *******
Snapback sales will skyrocket
And every single boy
In Marysville, Washington
Worth his spit
Will be wearing a snapback that says
"Be different"
And no one will think twice
But the one boy
Who doesn't wear snapbacks
Or Nike
Or Adidas
Or Obey
But who dresses
Different
Than anyone else
Will get beaten
And teased and shunned
By boys wearing snapbacks that say
"Be different"
Clutching lies in their ****** fists

pick up your snapback on your
way out, and use your cheap ***
compliments on the next girl. you played
your game but i played it
better. you asked me to make you
a sandwich, so i gave you
the finger. all you said was
when and where, so i’ll show you
the door. since you're not worth
the bedroom, especially when
i already have a jackhammer.

you rubbed your face against my shoulder
I felt the bristly hairs of your beard
giggling because it tickled
you smiled as I stole the snapback from your head
you took mine and put it on backwards
I fell into your arms and I still haven't gotten out
please don't smile like an angelic demon
because my heaven is your hell

It was when his finger prints left marks on my coffee cup
in that Starbucks he politely gave me my warm hazelnut
I remember how I got a little struck of his height
he made me look at him like I am gazing at the stars

It was his 'hi' that painted my crooked smile
followed by a simple question, "what's your name?"
God, he's so cute in that black t-shirt and snapback
I sounded like a ****** when I speak my name out

It was his vibe and a little of his laugh
that got me re-arranged a space in my mind for him
as he threw compliments with the same amount
of every single thing I like about his consuming eyes

It was a bye-bye that evening where it started to rain
and I counted his steps as he walked away from me
along with the ticking clock for his first phone call
cause he stole my every attention until I stumble and fall

I swear these days the kids think they can rap
With their #swag and their #yolo and snapback caps.

But I'd like to show them what RAP means in this country
I'll spell it out: RHYTHMIC AMERICAN POETRY.

Without your stanzas and word composition
you're just another rapper with an arrogant disposition.

Without a positive message and a humble demeanor
you've got negativity causing the children to get meaner.

You blast the bass and you spit your rhymes
you claim that the haters, "they be lying."

But you fail to see that at the heart of it all
you're more like Lil' Wayne than Biggie Smalls.

I'm truly sorry if you get offended by this rant,
but first thing's first;

Pull up your pants...

Written on 11/20/2017

That awkward moment when someone flirts with you on a dating app and says "I like that you look masculine."

You see,
I never saw masculinity as a part of me.

My identity was always flamboyant,
wearing pink shirts and sashes,
crop tops with styling gelled eyelashes,
sparkling headbands and dazzling bandannas,
snapback hats featuring giant bananas,
I dressed with the raging flamboyance of flamingos!
Sporting a certain type of femininity that only a gay man knows.

All the trimming and cutting, and shaving and nairing,
for hours,
as time and body hair intertwined in the showers,
washed masculinity off my body down the drain,
Experienced electrolysis burns, but the pain
had infected my thoughts,
like each hair is unnatural.  

Purge it all,
Scorch and torch it all,
Leave nothing at all!
No trace
of evolution's flawed attempt to grace
me with an adaptive advantage to take on the world's harsh climate.  
I admit,
this hair entangles me and strangles me,
it also oozes out of me like pimples from a pore,
a ***** to testosterone,
poor me - a victim of nature's masculinity.
What a hairy situation I've gotten myself in.

--

Femininity.
Its bestowed upon me by society.
When I sashay or say hey gurl hey,
society recognizes these things as girly and gay,
not a very masculine way to walk or talk.  

Stereotypes about *** and gender are so easily manipulated.
Like a circus performer on the tight rope,
the suspense keeps people wondering where will I fall?

But hold me under a microscope and you will see it all,
a million molecules that makeup my femininity.
I wear skinny jeans and tank tops,
then get complimented on them by dude bros,
like yo that's tight- where'd you get it boss?

I bought it in the girl's section at Ross.

My toe nails painted and displayed for public view,
flip flops emboldened with matching turquoise hues,
Femininity is worn on me like a fabulous armor plate.

--

Fast forward to a fateful date during No-Shave November.
I remember,
growing out my ****** hair for the very first time,
I wore it like a mask,
portraying a fictional character who was masc-uline.
Bathing in manliness at this masquerade.
It was through this charade,
that I grew
... temporary happiness for me from all of you.

The compliments they poured in.
My once smooth canvas of a face,
waiting to be crafted into the Mona Lisa,
had been turned into an artistic masterpiece,
'Gay Man with Amnesia',
of who he used to be.
A painting of someone society wanted,
someone whose masculinity was outwardly flaunted.
But inside, I felt taunted,
each time they complimented
me and my newfound masculinity.

--

Then, it happened on Grindr,
a gay dating app.
This masculine mishap.

A stranger's message read, "I like that you look masculine."
It sounded even stranger in my head.
Their profile description read,

"Masc 4 Masc
Masculine man seeking other masculine men to hangout with."

That's when I felt it.
My mask had made me masc.

This particularly manic morning brought me to ask
myself in the bathroom mirror,
"Who the hell am I looking at?"

In sheer terror, I teared-up,
scanned the portrait of 'Gay Man with Amnesia',
and then decided to tear it up!

I grabbed my electric razor,
grum grum grummm
as these blades grazed my face and chin,
I was offered sweet, soft, porcelain skin - my absolution.

pause

heh heh
When I came to and snapped out of the amnesia,
eager to see results of this restorative procedure,
the mirror was fogged with steam and slop.

I tried logging in to my laptop's webcam,  
for naught.  
The ****** recognition feature -- didn't recognize me
... but finally, I did.

Once again, I see the man behind the masc-ulinity.

So, dope  young fellow
With your pretty boy swag.
With your SnapBack on.
Pants so **** low.
Every girl just waiting in line just to give you a blow.
You're royalty around here, but this is still high school.
Taking every girls cherries and jewels.
You think that you're raising the bar but I've seen this before:
Call it VCR.

And then there's me:
Who don't get no ladies.
Because I'm the type of person who actually treats females as actually human beings.
Not toys.
I'll put them before myself.
I care about their joy.
You know what's dead: chivalry.
And it can never be reborn.
Not like Call of Duty: zombies.
Boom, headshot.
But there's another ten coming your way.
Then it gets to the point when you're just blown away.
But I'll be your player 2.
Girl, I'd give up all my perks just for you.

So you guys out there with the pretty boy swag.
Who just zip it all up cuz they think they got  it in the bag.
I'm going to fight.
I'm going to step up for the voices not heard.
Cuz you've drowned them in depression, you've choke them with cruelty, and you've slapped them with sadness.
Unable to act.
Like a flightless bird.
I'll let them out of their cages so they can fly once again.
So you can't weight them down:
Call you Anchormen. Ooo, **** em'

So, pretty boy, nothing close to fantastic.
I just wanna say:
That I know  I'm swagtastic.
S- saving
W- women
A- against
G- guys
T- that
A- abuse
S- sensitive
T- tender
I- innocent
C- companions.

Shorten that: swag.
S- she
W- wants
A- a
G- gentlemen.

So now boy,
Lets just see which one of us got that "Pretty Boy Swag"

So the lads decided to head down the town one day
(it bein' a great stretch of sun, especially for here,
and playin' Fifa tournaments and
actin' smart were losin' their charm)
Anyway,
Miles had his eye on this young one, and Giro and Hooper
bein' the friends they were riled him up no end about
what he was goin' to do once he got his chance with her, y'know, the usual stupid teenage macho lad crap.
But sure, poor auld Miles, as he was back then, was a sensitive sort
and although he was the handsomest of the chaps at that stage
-with the boyband cheekbones and
the butter-wouldn't melt bring-me-home-to-your-mammy-she'll-think-I'm-Lovely exterior-
he was just a bit too shy to get taking to her in the square that day,
the two of 'em were both awkwardly just sat on opposite benches
with their eyelashes flutterin' in the wind.
And sure didn't the boys make a holy show o'the chap by shoutin' "D'YOU WANT TO SHIFT HIS FRIENDS" at the young one's mates, and them visibly horrified,
with the precious stuck-up Loreto girls' mouths dropped in mortification.

They were somethin' else back then, alright.

But here's the thing,
He's marrying that girl next weekend. (-The same one?) (-Hardly?!)
Swear on me Granny's grave, got sent the invitation on Facebook and all!
Meself and Tracy are goin' to it, obviously, but I barely seen the chap since he moved up to Dublin that time, but the girl is friend's with Tracy's cousin.
Danielle is her name, she works as a graphic designer.

(-She designs games?) (-No, ads, posters and stuff, you ****)
(-Well, I extend my heartfelt apologies
to Mr. CAO himself over here)
(-G'way you, the last time you heard tell of the CAO
was when  you used it as a farewell greeting to
the sub-teacher you fancied when you
handed in your pass maths exam.)
(-What's he doin' again?) (-He works in KPMG)
(-...Sorry I asked)

Apparently they had lost track of each other, but then randomly met out one night and rekindled the old flame. (-what, the old premature pubescent horn?)
My point is, doucher, that you cant keep a good man down...not the greatest choice of words given the context, but, y'know,
fair ******' play to him anyway.

On the other hand, I saw Giro in Mooney's there last weekend,
back from Canada after only six months over there.
Hated it apparently, plasterin' walls in a city that was
only bein' built up for the first time, nothin' to do on the weekend
but drink **** beer and go fishin'.  I told him he should have gone
to Vancouver but he wanted to head where Hooper was goin'
-Those two were always the same, they'd manage to waste each others time if they got to the moon.

There Giro was, all he got to show for himself for goin' to Canada
was a flannel shirt, a snapback hat and a beard like one of those
grizzly lads from gay ****. (-What would you know about gay ****?) (It's an metaphor, genius, I don't need to know anythin' about it in order to make the connection.)
(-Sounds like the only expert piece of information you've given it all night) (-Here, your Da hates ya, go home)

But I suppose, at least a lad like Giro, totally directionless, still has the ability to laugh about himself.
He'd say worse things about himself that I would and laugh away at it, no bother.
But that's it, isn't it? Being able to laugh at the lads and at yourself when you deserve it, to own up to your flaws and forgive them.
That's what it's all about.

Sunny days bring smiles on faces
Girls with ***** shorts and sunglasses
Guys with muscle tops or floral hemps and snapback caps
September 19th was sunny
Well, that's until the clouds acuated the skies
and made all the smile evacuate to dystopia
This was an apocalypse
in my parent's house,
a place I used to call home
My father, Christopher
was the devil, Lucifer
and my mother was an angel with wings-
a delightful servant of Venus,
the goddess of love
Only, she couldn't fly
Not mentally, not physically and definitely not verbally
Her vocal chords were shaking as she passed her voice to my dad
She was the rainbow and sunshine
that was no longer divine
it was cryin’
while the devil was roarin’
as if he was a god
in which he was, but only of hell
He omitted fire but this time, it was cold
So cold that a tornado spun around the dining room
as I sat there, frozen, and watched like a snowman
The pupils of my eight year old eyes
witnessed the ending of a love I thought was immortal
A love that I used to think was magical
and illiterate
A love that formed in two hearts that bided into one
on their own
without the education of authorities
This was apartheid!,
and my parents were illegally married
A white European knight in shining armour
to an African goddess with attractive eyes
I started to believe that my mind
used to be a foolish thrall to the world of perfect love
But now I believe that it’s a vendee
who bought the saying, “love is blind”
I was a child who no longer believed
in the love of mankind
I had trouble finding myself
‘cause faith is to believe what you cannot see
and self-love was nowhere in sight
Now love is something I have to draw
and I cannot neutralize it
with optimism ‘cause my world was at an apocalypse
when the sun was supposed to be out...

Triggered much
I'm the boss
Take the loss -
I'm the sauce *****,
A1

Call my bluff
Mindless thots
Gobble ****
Catch me bustin
Like it ain't nut

Go to sleep

Fighting wars with keyboards,
While Grandma knits
Globally postal
Wit that anthrax mix
only hoping that reality splits;

These Lizard overlords
be slitherin quick
Underground:
u kno this wigga, B. Hittin-Licks

I’m ****** imminent  
to infinity and beyond
This dude buzzed lightyear,
Woody full attention;
Lil Bo Peep
She be getting no sleep,
Its a methed up situation yuh

This the celebration

Make yo ****
fissure into splinters
Crack the Ripper
with my finger
on the trigger
just hope it dont slip
~make you quiver
Rock a tight sphincter

Boi got nothing to lose
u bet your *** that I deliver
Devastating maneuvers
leave you hatin fools
Like who dis kid
with parkinsons jitters

Its a disgrace
cant lace ya shoes
But tryna play catch up
**** outta my face
*****,  hail the victor ya trippin'

Make no mistake,
my alias is satan
You lost the game
Restart the mission?

Dyslexic peasant,
I brought yo presents
I'm aggressive
reckless and relentless
got a rope necklace take some lessons

Finna hit em with that finisher
Sippin licks with dinner sure
Smokin out the villagers
**** and pillage conqueror
Down the bottle slurring words
Blurring out the big pictures
Swinging from a high fixture
Slanging sherm above the curve

rello I be rollin
biscuit limp but i be blowin
Out the water laps I'm stroking
Real **** love got homies choking

Smoke bricks kick rocks
Got the socks on with the flip flops

Golf cap on my noggin
Give me top like its hats off
grab some charmin
keep that *** soft
***** gravier than thicc sauce
Like my salad full toss
About to clobber em
Jump jump ***** crisscross

Taskforce Outlaws with chainsaws
Pale horse when that bass drop

And it’s occured to me
Since I lack the courtesy
To say the pleasantries
fore i be pushing out them boundaries

Killer O.J. quenches thirst
a murderous summer is the worst
But if the glove fits, must acquit
need a magnum, Jonnie Cochran
blast em wit the Chewbacca defense

Flowerboy spit my seed *****
Loose lips in the whip aye
Firmly grasp the shaft
when I switch lanes
Pallets of ******* call me rick James
Pull up round the clock
Gone off that rock
Knocked my mf block off ***** I'm insane
Tha fire token renegade

through that snapback
Spills ya ****** brains

plot out distances between freckles
and count the amount of hairs;
in a beauteous analysis
a cold witnessing
of)a featured lifeless gaze
projected onto windows
refracted in time with the pounding
from lost soulless ghouls
in a dank puddled basement
as we stare through keyholes

the length of life waits to rescind
to wash up on the shoreline
anew, once refreshed
with Angina on

wading in cyclic waves
in deposits of reveries
stale orangeade sonatas
and dull area tirades


the purpose
economized

every axiom
americanized

and as your atoms become depersonalized
tension is materialized, in ornate ivory
shattered brass instruments rusted by
novels written to god
in a
fractured light
and range

cramped in a curtailed distance
a brickwall deadend universe
gnashing with frustration
****** yawns of futility

closed viaducts
and vacant lots
deafened eyes, grey
glimmering in retort
to their own expression


blind sight was squandered by the snapback, of all the
strings of the orchestra as they were simultaneously snipped
by sharp prying eyes, listening to the mixing of paint
to smell the music, its arms limp, vivid
wishing to pull you back (in hindsight)
with dreaded, deadened incantations
a dithyrambic liturgy to the drunken thoughtless night
of slurred litanies and unappeasable, irascible deities
lonely and immaculate, all-powerless and deft
in irksome quarrels and arguments
glossed over by the fine print of another
exalting the vainglorious self-inscribed paragons
and revelling every inadmissible mistake

gazing past to a solo star
dumbstruck and dead
from an evaluation
and dehydration

dying to know
forget it.

Man I swear she's just like tons of girls, she expects the free drinks
I go to your room every weekend
It's been this way for
As long as I can remember
And we hang out
And play drinking games
And I play "beertender"
For the both of us
Pulling almost cold Natty's
Out of your alphabet patterned fridge
And I fall more in love with you
And I think you fall more in love with me
And we take another sip
Drinking whiskey, she likes ***** strong
And your girlfriend hates me
With you
When you put your arm on my waist
Or you pull me so close
And then let one hand linger
On my *** when you pull away
Or rapping in each others' faces
Or stealing your snapback
Just to make you
Steal it again
And she can't stand when you push my hair
Behind my ear
To whisper song lyrics to me
My clothing's on, we both did wrong, I gotta go that's what I told her*
And none of the
Three of us
Ever do anything
To stop it

1.You were my first love, I will never forget that summer. With the boy who always wore a Rockstar SnapBack and taught me how to skateboard. I told you I wanted to see your best friend. That was first time feeling my heart break while bleeding regret. I cried to mayday parade every night after. A few years later you chatted me and asked if you could be my first kiss. I'm glad you weren't. We haven't talked since and you can't be my first everything.
2. You were a rebel. You asked me to run away with you; we planed our escape to the mountains. You wanted to kiss me after you walked me home in the snow. I remember how cold my feet were in my converse. I ran away before our lips met. I didn't want you to take stars from my eyes like I knew you would. Somehow years later, you are still stuck in the same town while I ran 2,000 miles away to the mountains.
3. There was distance between us. But you always drove to my house in your beloved red Mazda. I wanted to like you as much as you liked me. You were the only guy to ever buy me flowers; they died just like us. I told you I couldn't be with you anymore; I know I broke your heart.
4. I swear you were fate. My judgement was cloudy from all the drugs you always had to give. I wanted to mend your life, I wanted to be your glue. But I realized I was just as broken but in different ways. As much as we wanted, we couldn't piece the other one back together with our shattered hands. I'm just ****** you can say you took my virginity. I hope it hurts every time you hear my name.
5. I never saw this coming. You were a Junior and I was a freshmen. You stole my first kiss; somehow I never forgot how your lips tasted. You were out of my league but you fell for me. I convinced myself it was just a summer fling. While you were saying goodbye to summer, I was boarding a plane. At the terminal you whispered you loved me. Now, you are the only one I can see myself with.

when they pull up to the stop
i am the last to get on
i sit in the front, with a good view
of the street
(i know the route by heart)
turn left at ryan road and
pass the old run down convenience store
broken and unwanted, like,
a mole on a hand-model's finger,
or perhaps me;
did you know that they all wave at each other?
the bus drivers, i mean
when they pass on the road
nothing meaningful, just
a quick wave of the hand
i see you there
doing what i'm doing
hey, buddy, why'd we pick this job
anyway?
there's a kid behind me who always kicks my chair
and the blonde ******* my left
glares at me from above
a paper-back romance novel
i try to smile, but
i don't think she wants to be my friend
(she laughed at me last year
from across the plastic cafeteria floor
and called me a witch
if i recall correctly)
when we pull up to the school
i pull out my phone
and pretend to be texting
(i don't even have a plan;
the phone's for music)
so that they all get out before me;
once i pushed ahead of a boy
in a snapback and sweatpants
and i think that's just about the bravest thing
someone from the front of the school bus
has ever done.

Welcome everybody to the most exciting event of your lives.
Welcome one and all, and thank you so much for attending my funeral!

And I know you’re probably confused as to why this is an exciting event, but believe me, this is an event you do not want to miss!!

Make sure that when attending my funeral, that you do not wear formal clothing, and do not wear black.

I want you, to wear the most colorful thing you can find in your closets. I want my funeral to have so much colour!

There will be so much rainbow, that my funeral could be the set for a Skittles commercial!

Die with the rainbow, Taste the rainbow!

I, of course will not be dressed formal.

I’ll be working a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, an open jacket and a snapback turned at 180 degrees, because IT LOOKS AWESOME!

You all should also look as amazing as I do. But do not, under any circumstances look better than I do.

Remember, this is still MY day, I am the most important thing in this room, Why?!!??

Because I’m super dead!

Side note: I’m afraid of dying…

But it’s not like that matters anymore, because I’M DEAD. Literally living my eternal fear. (Or dying in my eternal fear.)

Anyway!! Another rule! Do not… get drunk on my funeral day. You MUST be sober, in order to fully experience this event for what it is. And what is it?? A celebration!!!

Why would anybody celebrate MY death, you ask?

This question has a simple answer: I don’t want you to cry at my funeral…

I want you to laugh, I want you to laugh so much, that you end up crying anyway. Laugh because even though a journey has ended, it ended on a good note.

I want you to party! Dance until your tire of moving! And when you dance.

Tell yourself that you feel good.

Because even though I’m dead, I’m thankful that you came to my funeral.

Enjoy the celebration.

And if, you write my eulogy, write about the times I made you laugh, or the times I won medals, or hugged you so tight because I really didn’t want to let go until I had to.

Don’t write that you’re sorry, or that I deserved more time, or that I’m in a better place now.

Thank you, for everything. And my last gift to you is giving you a reason to be happy in a time of sorrow.

Be happy knowing that you got to be a part of my life. Because I’m happy knowing that I was part of yours.

i saw him on a- actaully i dont know when i saw him first. probably late on the second or third day. we missed each other the first day. but i know, when i saw him, he stole away my breath. its such a cliche thing, but just this once i can say im not lying. i watched him on his bike. wide shoulders tan. snapback placed perciaously on his head. i spent the next two days staring at him. watching him leave his campsite each time and watching him return each time for reasons unknown by me. then she came, the third night. we went to the playground. i didnt expect anything to come out of it. but he was there. and my brother, oh wonderful brother, was friends with him. my heart welled. i talked to him for hours that night. i went to bed happy; happier than i've been in awhile. i had talked to him. the campground boy. the boy who stole away my breath. the next day, he came to the field right after us. i know why now; he wanted to get away from his family, i understand where hes coming from. unfortunately. but we spent the day together. then we went in the pool. this is the time my heart sank into the middle of the earth and hasnt come back yet. she flirted. and the worst part, he flirted back. my heart sank even more that night. i watched from the sidelines as they messed around with each other. him finding excuses to touch her. her giggling her boy-attracting giggle. ******* giggle. i went to bed that night, heart sank, never coming back. i will probably never see him again, but i can tell i will probably never be able to let him go fully. he was special. my age. different than the boys i know from school. i just know i will never forget his face, i will try not too. he was the last thing i saw as the car left the campground

plot out distances between freckles
and count the amount of hairs;
in a beauteous analysis
a cold witnessing
of)a featured lifeless gaze
projected onto windows
refracted in time with the pounding
from lost soulless ghouls
in a dank puddled basement
as we stare through keyholes

the length of life waits to rescind
to wash up on the shoreline
anew, once refreshed
with Angina on

wading in cyclic waves
in deposits of reveries
stale orangeade sonatas
and dull area tirades


the purpose
economized

every axiom
americanized

and as your atoms become depersonalized
tension is materialized, in ornate ivory
shattered brass instruments rusted by
novels written to god
in a
fractured light
and range

cramped in a curtailed distance
a brickwall deadend universe
gnashing with frustration
****** yawns of futility

closed viaducts
and vacant lots
deafened eyes, grey
glimmering in retort
to their own expression


blind sight was squandered by the snapback, of all the
strings of the orchestra as they were simultaneously snipped
by sharp prying eyes, listening to the mixing of paint
to smell the music, its arms limp, vivid
wishing to pull you back (in hindsight)
with dreaded, deadened incantations
a dithyrambic liturgy to the drunken thoughtless night
of slurred litanies and unappeasable, irascible deities
lonely and immaculate, all-powerless and deft
in irksome quarrels and arguments
glossed over by the fine print of another
exalting the vainglorious self-inscribed paragons
and revelling every inadmissible mistake

gazing past to a solo star
dumbstruck and dead
from an evaluation
and dehydration

dying to know
forget it.

i found your hoodie
on the corner of my room
when i cleaned it up this morning
and suddenly remembered
on how i hated it when
you wear snapback.
i would snatched it from your head
and hid it somewhere in my house
i even once hid it in my freezer
forgot bout it until my mom found it
you hated it when i do that
'bad hair days', you would say.
i had never told you the reason why
but i like to play with your hair

there were so many times
i choked up and swallowed back an
'i love you too's
not because i don't love you
but because i know you've someone
on the other line

you told me i sleep too much
'like a cat', you would say
i'd never told you the reason why
but that's because
i'm tired,
for my mind is running over the thoughts
of why it took you so long to reply
it would be because of her

i'd never told you how
i really liked you in those
short sleeves plaid shirts you've got
and that
navy blue hoodie
i should had done that
and i'm sorry for i stole that hoodie from you

there were times when you asked me something
and i challenged you for it
you laughed in surprise
i sat facing you on your passenger seat
legs crossed, cheek leaning on my palm
hair aside
you stared at me instead of the road
we stared at each other for a moment
even when you're driving
i could swore we looked like we were in love
or weren't we?

the last time we held hands
i traced 'i love you's on your hand
i didn't try to make the gesture noticeable
for i wanted to mark your skin
before she held it
and claimed it as her
i wrote invisible ink on your palm
for that's how i've always love you
in the silence
be your ghost

on our last day,
you probably wondered why i look so cold and distant
and yet so calm.
maybe it confirmed your uncertainty
of how heartless i was.
little do you know i barely made it
upstairs to my room without
a single tear.

you probably think on
how i'd never loved you true
or what were we
or what your feeling was to me
and i'd probably will never know
why you did what you did to me
why you hurt me
after you swore that you loved me
we were too young back then
you probably think i am happy now
i'm not
and i'm drowning
i am choking up on i love yous
and i hope you're happy
i just hope that
it was a bad timing
and not a wrong person

Amsterdamiss is
typing into an internet comment section:_

but she's gone.
by the look of her little square
picture.
Her blip in the fetish
It's a costume
leaking through the build up for it>gumming up each pixel> disappointing us.
and don't forget      
          to bite down
when you' chewing gum.
or just scraping something historic from the front of a nicely shaped
building

our fingers
are
red
as the blood flowing through the veins of our revisionist
history.america
can ******* babe.
we are exceptional.


and they're showing it on the disney channel  
and out in the street-like folds that peel out doing at least
45
without looking
on the places on my body.
if you
scroll down, some kid calls her a ******.
but i'll let you hate me
if you want to. as i correct the dead smile of the news reporter.as she
feeds some sort of loaded question into the
screen
like: "you just have to thank god at times like these, don't ya?"

.
"it really is a miracle, isn't it?"
as we stand
in front of the fire that's taking just about everything.
in front of the shot-up restaurant.
in front of my shaking hands.


******* savages
all of 'em

it's the middle of the night, babe.
don't you have anything better left to say to me?
at least
give me something to feel shame about.
it's coming
down
to you.

     -
I say something mean.


not yourbabe. might be your babe.
**** like a snapback-
Melfina tilts her head back
i'm garbage

with a fresh grasspour
fade to green,  as the sun beats us senseless .with shotgun shells from the center of orbit
to breathe as this. as the saltwater beads up around the
little wrinkle of her
nose.
she can save us.

but
there's nobody to hold your love for you, when you're too ****** to grip it.

  _/ _
\       /
/   ^  \here's a lucky star for you, babe- you're gunna need it, here at the center of it all.

A list of answers and facts for questions no one asked, or wanted to know the answers to:

I was told in by my high school social teacher that people who have green as their favourite colour were the smartest kind of people, and I thanked my brain for choosing that colour to love.

Despite loving green, I know deep down that red is not only the most attractive colour to wear, but my track team always won the race when we wore it. Superstition or not, red is deadly hot attractive.

When asked if I am religious, I will say "yes". When asked if I have doubted that religion, I will say "Of course". Notice how one answer sounds more certain than the other.

When asked if I am single, I don't hesitate to say that I live in Singletown, Population: Me.

I was once at a show with my mother. Me, wearing my snapback and sweater as we walk in. We're sharing a table with an older man. He says, "I should tell you that a professor told me that wearing your hat backwards lowers your IQ by 20 and that wearing it sideways lowers it by 30". So I said, "Well, I'm glad I don't wear my hat sideways."

I may be stupid, but my favourite colour is green, so do not cross me.

When asked if I wished I was in a relationship, I will say...

I will say that I used to know the answer to that when falling in love was more of a luxury than a tragedy.

I have shaved my head twice. And cutting my hair has just become the main "solution" to making my showers shorter.

When asked if I have questioned my sexuality, I will say "Who hasn't?" and I will also say "You are lucky you're getting an answer out of me."

When asked if I'm going to take the blue pill or the red pill, you know I'm gonna ask for the green pill instead. Because what is smarter than a green matrix pill?! In your face Neo, Morpheus doesn't need you anymore.

I really love and hate telling my story. It's not because I hate myself, or I'm going to cry, or I just really hate telling people everything. I mean, sure those are all true, but it's mostly because I don't want to hurt people.

Every poem I write slowly becomes a poem about her.

When asked about her, I say...
She took the red pill.

Hoping... it made her more attractive.

Sitting in my bedroom
Daydreaming about screams
Smoking like Charlie sheen
I'm not going to be seen
I'm sick of eating collard greens
Get this plate outta my face
Before I chase you around the house
Legs crossed on the couch
Too lazy to even open my mouth
Looking forward to seeing you because you actually got that invitation
I've got that transportation
We can ride together with our own designation, focus
Right now I'm looking at my wall
Feeling the sensation of my craziness
Call your phone to have a good conversation
Two bottle caps snapped back
Wearing my old snapback
Putting in the next track
I'm getting cold matter a fact
Strapped in a box loaded with socks
I would interact but I'm trapped in my mind
Sinking because of my Overthinking
Skimming through this book which is uplifting, focus
I'm gonna get high tonight

Mom said I can have a Tyrannosaurus but she lied again an instead gave me pie
I sighed and grieved for days
Then she told me she got me one and it died in the car
That was far long ago before I worked Petco
But I really give a crap though because I would of broke its neck anyway
Just saying, I would've got bored if playing
Am I stating I have something against prehistoric figures, well I didn't say anything about ******

Sitting in my bedroom

One is red
two is green
three blue
and four peach

I bet you didn’t expect that one

Red is tweed
green is nylon
blue wool
and four corduroy

It caught me off guard, too

They’re all Supreme
bought second-hand
most snapback
one is fitted

I wear it the least

Sometimes it’s hot
when not, it’s cold
in the middle of stillness it’s warm
or blew right through, cucumber cool

Laps around the track
Snap me back into reality
Will I wear a snapback
Or a button down t?

Will my poems turn to raps
Or is this just adolescent crap?
Is 20 adolescent
Or is that a dumb question.

If I'm an adult,
When will I start to grow up?
Do I start to grow numb
And confuse that for love?

And then when I die
And I'm having a big flashback
Then I'll remember that lie
And think ****, I almost had it.

I'm right on the edge,
Should I go ahead and do it?
My life's planned out, now,
Is it time to lose it?

Van to Los Angles
Twenty dollar fallback.
Abandoned the scholarship
Waiting for a callback

Record companies,
Tv show producers.
Do I have talent?
I can't see myself through her.

I've lost sight of my ways,
Distractions torture me daily
So I go find more distractions
To make the bad ones go away,

All the times I ****** up,
Like when I needed people so badly
That I drove them all away
So I could twist more, madly.

Tweaking, walking around
All alone at night.
The moonlight shows the way
To nowhere, so I'm running.

I'm going nowhere,
And I'm trying to go fast.
It's not about the destination,
I'm just escaping my past.

But I can dream, and
When all those dreams turn to nightmares
I wake up numb and think
About what's right there.

Blessings, I can walk
And by myself, use the toilet.
I've got so much to be grateful for,
You'd think that I'd enjoy it,

But it's really hard when
My mind gets off track daily
The grass is so green
In the lives of all those ladies

And gentlemen who have fun
On my snapchat stories.
What's different about me?
I'm so ******* boring.

Forget them, cool off,
Take some more laps.
If I find somewhere I'm welcome,
Then I'll stop writing these raps.

I'm tired of the same thing
Over and over again,
But as long as I'm inspired,
This flow won't end.