it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
my sister lies in a hospital bed after a suicide attempt.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
yesterday i was at the mall while my sister was rushed to the er.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
she swallowed a bottle of pills yesterday to try to make the hurt go away.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
her heart rate went down too low.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
she needed me when i wasn't there.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
my nightmares have become a reality.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
she's not dead, but she isn't alive.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
the demons lurk in her eyes and i want them gone as much as she does.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
she looked so pale with the charcoal staining her tongue black.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
i sit here with a blade and consider breaking my promise.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
i continue to repeat these lines.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
maybe it's a mantra, but it feels like my last words.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
i want her back home.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
the desperation in my soul begins to surface.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
come home soon squish.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
otherwise i might join you in that hospital bed.

At EIGHTEEN we met
At a party that I still remember.
It was fall, the air changing
It was beginning to get dark
The sun was going down,
The air getting cold.

I remember when you bumped onto me
That warmth that rushed on my arm.
I remember the blue eyes,
That mischievous smile.
I remember your touch,
The "hello" coming from your lips.

I remember you across the room
Your blue eyes looking,
The wink,
The smile,
The laugh,
Could my teenage heart know?
That skip,
That beat,
What did it mean?

You walked towards me,
Your blue eyes never leaving me,
"Hello" you said again.

I remember you grabbed my hand,
You pulled me closer
Whispering into my ear,
And the chill running through me,
I knew it wasn't from the cold, fall, air.

We found a spot and we talked.
Hours went by,
We realized the sun came up.

At NINETEEN we went out,
That's when we got serious.
You were the one,
You were my first.
Time went by,
Our highs,
Our lows,
We were inseparable,
We said the I love yous'.

At Twenty we fought
Times got tough,
We had some rough times.
The talks we had,
For the now,
The what ifs,
The future.

Still at Twenty...
We loved,
Unconditionally,
We tried to make it work.

At Twenty-One
The parties,
Constant work,
Life,
College,
We couldn't take it all
We were too young.
We broke up.

At Twenty-Two
We were friends,
Still in love.
We knew it would be forever,
That would never change.

You moved away
I stayed.
We moved on,
We went our separate ways.

At Twenty-Three
You came back, but
You left again.

At Twenty-Four
We lost touch,
You had moved on,
And so had I.

Years went by,
We barely talked,
When we did, we knew,
The feelings were always there,
Never going away.

At Twenty-Seven
You bumped on to me,
That warmth down my arm,
Familiar.
Your blue eyes,
Your mischievous smile,
Your touch,
Your Hello.

It all came to me.
We hung out,
We found a spot and talked
Letting the night fall,
And the sun rise.

That skip,
That beat,
What did it mean?
Could my grownup heart know?
We said the I love yous.

At Twenty-Eight
We talked,
You wanted to meet and
Know my new family.

At Twenty-Eight
I got the news that you were gone.

At Twenty-Eight
It all came crashing down.

At Twenty-Eight
I remembered everything.

At Twenty-Eight
It was more powerful then,
Than the last ten years.

At Twenty-Eight
The goodbye I could never say,
The closure that never came.

At Twenty-Eight
You, my first love
Were gone.

At Twenty-Eight
I will forever remember you.

At Twenty-Eight
You will always have a piece of my heart.

Twenty-seven years
Of losing out in love
Twenty-seven years
Of never giving up
On anyone I love
Full of hate, But full of love
Full of courage, Full of heart
I’ve fallen down
But I got back up
Got lost, been stuck
Found a way back out
But fell right back in

Twenty-seven years
I’m still holding on
Twenty-seven years
All the best parts of me gone
I’m still staying strong
But for how long?
Every day could this be my last song
Twenty-seven years
and it all goes wrong
Twenty-seven minutes
Bad lucks born
So many decisions
but I’m still torn

Ever since childhood memories
I’ve had enemies
I’ve lost energy
trying to fight
With all of my might
I’m losing sight
through all these hard times
Through every single line
through every rhyme
Through everything I write
You get a glimpse
Into my troubled mind
So appreciate the time
That I’ve put in
To every word
From all the hurt
In my heart
From all my broken love

Twenty-seven years
It’s taken to come to terms
With all, I’ve had to learn
Twenty-seven years
I’ve learned to burn
All the rage, the hate
Wipe clean the slate
Twenty-seven years
I’m still around
Twenty-seven years
I’m standing my ground
Against the tides, the crowd
It gives me a reason to shout
My passion out loud
Standing tall and proud
Before I’m taken out
In the final round

Twenty-seven years
Twenty-seven years

©2017 Written By Benji James

when i see the youthful faces
i feel a bitter regret
curse how time crazily races
rue things for which i'm late.

my youth now seems wasn't there
or was just a fleeting span
fate dealt me a blow unfair
made me too fast old man.

if only the years did roll back
if time travel wasn't a fancy
if only was laid back the past track
i would've loved to be twenty.

why it's such i didn't care
let twenty fly too fast past me
why that year if was very much there
i didn't lock it to be forever twenty.

twenty at twenty seemed absurd an age
a fabulous but unreal mirage
it was the year i passed out college
twenty did i ever have that age.

twenty when came too fast it went
survives in the now twenty's face
for me no year an imagined moment
i curse how years quickly race.

Twenty minutes, lost.
I though I had been under my steadily flowing deity for hours. I thought I had had a spiritual experience lasting longer than Genesis.
But it was only twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes
Of standing naked under falling water, feeling soap suds and scratchy cleansers and sharp tangles
Cleaning my skin and my soul of my physical reminder of my connection to the river
To the world
Thinking only flesh and water, flesh and water.
It was the mantra in my head.
We are all just flesh and water.
I was ripping through the harsh curls of my hair thinking flesh and water
Flesh and water.
I caressed my goddess, my god, my spirit, nature’s spirit
When I caressed the showerhead.
I saw it clean me of the plankton of the natural water and replace it with synthetic chemicals
To keep me sanitary and acceptable.
Twenty minutes.
It felt like that was how long it took for the blade to run across my skin, my wet-and-dry-sand skin. Twenty minutes running up from the product of the hills to the home of my womanhood.
I noticed how the man-made razor matched a section of veins on my wrist.
Twenty minutes.
In twenty minutes that were actually twenty lifetimes I became Pocahontas, daughter of Earth and sister of water.
I felt my connection to what sustains me and it changed me.
How did twenty minutes seem so long
Under the florescent lights?

Twenty-nine belts bravery from a bottle.
It feels like all talk and no game.
Twenty-nine has thighs that don't lie
and a finger that motions you
to come closer.
It relearns each facet of love
and finds beauty in its own reflection.
Twenty-nine betters the invention
instead of reinventing it.
It imagines kissing strangers to feel alive and
gifts the pearl to the jewel thief
with no words- only smiles.
Twenty-nine strikes a match
in the middle of a pitch black nowhere,
only to see the smoke twist up and away.
It cracks and hisses when it feels its been forgotten.
It smells like pine needles, orange peel, and sun bleached cotton.
Twenty-nine forgets those who have forgotten it
but thanks them for the lessons.
It likes church but only for the music, architecture, and sociology.
Twenty-nine won't apologize for passion or pity,
but it will drip with empathy at inopportune times.
Twenty-nine steeps itself in scalding water
only to discover its true flavor.
It finds no comfort in the opinions of others
but will only rest at the signal of a nod of approval.
Twenty-nine looks down into the neverending
and can't decide if it wants to jump or run.
It handstitches a parachute
as it dangles one foot over the edge,
says a prayer to no god
but writes hymns that bring tears.
Twenty-nine keeps breathing.
It keeps breathing.

twenty seven
twenty seven days without the love of my life
twenty seven days of agonizing pain spent in terribly agony
twenty seven days free from someone whos love had expired long ago
twenty seven days trying to love myself
twenty seven days trying to fight to not call her
twenty seven days in turmoil
twenty seven days of taping my phone to the counter
twenty seven days of spontaneous beach trips
twenty seven days of misery
twenty seven days realizing just how far I had fallen for her mischievous smile and steady gaze
twenty seven of the best worst days of my life

Twenty
Four
Hours.

Over a year ago
My theatre teacher told me
And a group of my closest friends
To write down
Exactly what we would do if
We found out we only had
Twenty-four hours left
To live.

My original draft was very juvenile,
Full of dramatic kisses
And dying in my crush's arms.

It was beautiful
For a seventeen-year-old romantic.

I don't know if my teacher realized
That I would become slightly
Obsessed with
What I would do
If I had twenty-four hours to live.
But whether she realized or not,
Obsessed I became.

I wrote "24" or my hand each day
For weeks,
To remind me that I could be
Dead in twenty-four hours,
Or less.

I wrote at least fifty drafts
Of what I would do
If I found out at that moment
That I had twenty-four hours left.
I would write a new draft when I decided
That the previous draft was
Too out-dated.
I think the longest lasting draft
During my surge of
Twenty-four hour hypotheticals
Lasted one week.
One.

I was totally obsessed with daring greatly,
Doing the things I had longed to do
For weeks or months or years,
And suddenly I had the permission I needed
To do them:
Twenty-four hours to live.

My drafting came to an end when
My best friend
Handed me the best
Twenty-four hour outline
I had ever seen.

At the top read the disclosure:
And you get into heaven no matter what.

I couldn't surpass that list with any of my own ideas.
And my obsessment was already dimming.

A year and a half or more later,
I don't make drafts.
I'm not obsessed.
I'm not going to die.

But every once in a while
When I feel like I'm not living
Life
To it's fullest,
I write "24" on my hand for
A few days.
Just to remind myself,
That at any moment,
My twenty-four hours left to live
Could be up.

It’s Twenty Hundred Twenty-One!


Well, son-of-a gun, it’s
Twenty hundred twenty-one!
What’s in a name and what is time?
Its only sign: change ongoing!
Ceaseless, endless, unabating,
Unrelieved, perpetual,
Indestructible, immutable;
Part wave, vibration, particle,
In patterns unpredictable;
Each a transient, sneaking by invisibly:
A birth, a death and in-between;
That decal time that we call Time;
Its silent signal, signal siren unavoidably agreed upon.
The end!
Year gone!
Here, hopefully a hearty, helpful, healthful  friend:
Year twenty hundred twenty-one!

It’s Twenty Hundred Twenty-One 1.1.2021 Our Times, Our Culture II; Circling Round Time II; Circling Round Everything II; Arlene Nover Corwin

One would wonder why a god would design a war upon his own creation
Forcing the hand of the weak to the front the battle line
Does he not care or is he simply not there?
The weak step forward trembling at their knees
Their eyes dart around knowing what’s to come
Their enemy sly as a fox and strikes like a cobra
One down
Two
Three
Four
Massacred they have no force
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
They begin to plead
They send prayers to the unknown god to be saved
No answer is displayed
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Convinced themselves this is worse than hell
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
The last victim..
The age of the girl
She fell to the ground as blood gurgled out of her mouth
Skin pale as a porcelain doll with a pentagram cauterized into her skin
Sixteen
The age of him, the boy of unknown
Valknut pierces him to the soul
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
All the victims lie there dead
They never had a chance
Twenty
Twenty of them had quick deaths
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
They didn’t get to chose
The dark noose
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
How many more?
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Death by sulfur
Ashes blown away by the wind
Resembling the destruction
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Both hoping for the heaven's gate
To be shutdown by their true fate
Should of had more faith
Twenty-nine
Thirty
The dead could be awakened by their screams
The predator devouring on their misery-filled pleas
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
All to come
Will die by the sword of life

Tick tock, one two
I want you

Tick tock, thee four
I want you more

Tick tock, five six
Show me a trick

Tick tock, seven eight
Don't be late

Tick tock, nine ten
Be my friend

Tick tock, eleven twelve
It feels like hell

Tick tock, thirteen fourteen
You give me protein

Tick tock, fifteen sixteen
You make *** clean

Tick tock, seventeen eighteen
You make me feel mean

Tick tock, nineteen twenty
You give me plenty

Tick tock, twenty one twenty two
I love you

Tick tock, twenty three twenty four
I love you more

Tick tock, twenty five twenty six
You make me sick

Tick tock, twenty seven twenty eight
You make life great

Tick tock, twenty nine thirty
You make me feel *****

Tick tock, thirty one thirty two
You make me blue

Tick tock, thirty three thirty four
You act like a *****

Tick tock, ? ? ? ?

Tick tock, one, two
I want you

Tick tock, thee, four
I want you more

Tick tock, five, six
I'm slowly getting love sick

Tick tock, seven, eight
Our first date so don't be late

Tick tock, nine, ten
Your my best friend

Tick tock, eleven, twelve
Without you feels like hell

Tick tock, thirteen, fourteen
I now feel my love is certain

Tick tock, fifteen, sixteen
You make *** feel clean

Tick tock, seventeen, eighteen
You make me feel wanted

Tick tock, nineteen, twenty
You give me plenty

Tick tock, twenty one, twenty two
I love you

Tick tock, twenty three, twenty four
I love you more

Tick tock, twenty five, twenty six
Your my reason to exists

Tick tock, twenty seven, twenty eight
You make my life great

Tick tock, twenty nine, thirty
I love it when we play *****

Tick tock, thirty one, thirty two
I'm always blue away from you

Tick tock, thirty three, thirty four
You are the one I adore

Tick tock, ? ? ? ?

Hello good-bye.
Hello good-bye.
Twenty years compounded into twenty minutes
Please make this night last forever.
The clock ticks the minutes pass nice to meet you over and over again
Rise and fall only to rise over and over again
Shaking hands introduction meeting
Killing so softly softly slowly
Only to be born again
Rising living born here right now in this moment within the last twenty minutes
Twenty years crashing colliding complete
Completely alive right now and for the next twenty minutes
Inhaling and exhaling deeply slowly making the minutes last forever
Please make this night last forever.

Sleeping moon never asleep guided by the light
Guided softly softly slowly death like birth dying feels like living
Living life in one night in twenty minutes
Twenty minutes of perfection flawlessness beauty grace
Softly perfect sinking away shining away
Morning sun rising reflecting
Reflecting eyes that speak twenty years
Eyes that whisper beauty grace perfection life and death hope and tragedy
Twenty years in twenty minutes in those eyes
They made the night last forever and the morning arrival too soon
Hello hugging embracing shaking trembling good-bye
Good-bye admit good-bye to the night to the eyes to the life to the air
Hello to the morning good-bye to the night
Night that lasted forever that brought death and life
That rises and falls
Wishing it would rise again and last forever.

Twenty hours
On the backlog
Overtime
Just twenty hours
And you wont be ours
to hold but...
Just twenty hours
And your waves
Forever lost in my ocean
We'll never be voiceless
Just twenty hours
Till you won't smoke air
Just twenty hours
Till you won't smoke air
Just twenty hours
Till you won't smoke air
We'll never be voiceless
We'll never recover
You are a mind travelled
You are your eyes shut
Forever lost in my ocean
And you wont be ours
to hold but...
We'll never recover
And your waves
Will never be voiceless
Just twenty hours
Just twenty hours
Just twenty hours
On the backlog
Overtime?

you are not twenty seven years old. you are twenty seven sorrows, twenty seven apologies, twenty seven broken pencils in a coffee mug. you used to keep memories like fireflies in jars, but now, you harvest them like organs, and you can't shake them to make you glow. i stuck a bird in where my heart should be but my pulse still sounds like a dial tone. the way a ticking clock drives a person insane is the way everything falls in love with you. the way everything falls in love with you is the way that delicate things break, and everything is delicate in the presence of a hurricane. you know how to be a storm, but no one loved you enough to show you how be a home, and the foundation you are built on is a broken as our mind - you are held together by tape and tiny hands , you are bound together by apologies and if anyone forgave you, you would simply fall apart. we must fold ourselves seventy seven times and tuck ourselves into the arms of the people we love, in hopes they never learn to read our language, and you are words written in a way that leaves everyone hanging onto each one by the skin of their teeth, even if they don't understand. I hope it's fine if i still try. if you are brave enough to touch the world, you will find that it is constantly on fire, and you never have to ask for a light.
you are not twenty seven years old, you are twenty seven wet matches, twenty seven empty rooms to scream in, twenty seven breakdowns in the bathroom. sometimes you are the sun and you can rise, but you are a deadly comedown (in any event, you are always glowing). I can hear you folding and unfolding like an origami flower, my hands know where you bend even though i have never touched you. i have seen the fear that drips through the cracks in your tough exterior, and i pried apart my own innocence to slip my way inside.  
  how many times do you groan before you finally heave and let the weight **** you? you know, contrary to what is generally believed, love knows bounds very well. it knows them and, it plunges over them, spills and overcomes you and foams around your feet before dragging you out to open see and mocks your cries for help until you finally stop thrashing and succumb to the sick trick that you have fallen for. i used to think love was a steady push and pull, but then i love you; when play tug of war with a ghost, you always end up with enough rope on your side to make a noose out of. i wanted to turn you on, not disgustingly, but in the way that i stumble in the dark, groping the wall for a switch. all of my nerves were hair triggers when you opened your mouth, now they are loud sirens and they scream when you are gone. a barely present as you would like to paint yourself out to be, i have felt you in places that are four dimensional, in the depths of my own murky consciousness that not even i know how to reach. the way a storm busts down a wooden door is the way that you enter a room,  the way you enter me. you know how to bend the light and you know how to break it, too. allow me to envelop myself in you like words in brackets, but never let me speak aloud. how many times can someone caress your jaw until it feels like you've been clocked repeatedly, and how many times can you fall in love with same person before you bust your mouth completely on their shoulder?
even after you have dragged me through this fire and made me bite all of the dust and all of the concrete beneath it, i have still loved you with a mouthful of broken teeth. now i am here to spit them out into your hands and make enough room in my throat to cough up my stifled pride.

Twenty-five pigeons are doing **** rips in my living room.
In the middle of my living room
twenty-five pigeons
are doing **** rips
of **** that they bought
off my next door neighbor
who just happened to have some lying around.
There are twenty-five pigeons
doing **** rips in my living room,
and they will not stop watching
Battlestar Galactica.
The twenty-five pigeons
doing **** rips in my living room
ate all of my Cheese Nips,
and they drank the last
of the RC Cola I bought.
I try to get
the twenty-five pigeons
doing **** rips in my living room
to leave,
because I hate it when they do this,
but they just coo at me
and that shuts me up.
One of the twenty-five pigeons
doing **** rips
in my living room
accidentally knocks over
the ****
and spills bongwater
all over my ******* carpet.
The **** cracks.
They start flapping their wings really hard
and ******* everywhere,
because they're pigeons
and they're mad.
But then,
one of the twenty-five pigeons
produces some hash wax
from under his wings,
and now there's twenty-five pigeons
doing knife hits
of hash wax
over my stove,
and quite frankly
I'm ******.
I run in
and start waving my arms
around,
and scream,
"Get the **** out of here,
who let you in anyway?"
And the head pigeon drops the knife on accident,
and they all fly out of my living room
and into the sky,
all really blazed,
leaving me here,
mad,
with a bunch of stains on my carpet.

Twenty two twenty two
Alone
Quiet
In a private place
In my home
Silent

Twenty two years ago
I was twenty two
And twenty two year before that
I was born

Twenty two twenty two
I would like
To live you
Twice over again

Eighty eight
Is my goal
To live
Two more lifetimes
Perhaps I will become
Twice as wise

If I should ever come to read this
Twenty two years from now
I will remember this moment
With fond nostalgia

Twenty two twenty seven
Five minutes has passed in writing
And I finish
My day

A lovely young woman with a child at her feet
Opened her door and began to weep
The commander and the chaplain delivered the news
She was now a widow,a family of two

Twenty-one bullets explode into the sky
Fighting for freedom a soldier has died
He leaves behind his wife and his son
A soldier laid to rest at the age of twenty-one

A hero remembered as courageous and strong
Lost his life in a land that he did not belong
He served his country from an ocean away
Earning a medal of honor for his actions that day

And twenty-one bullets explode into the sky
Fighting for freedom a soldier has died
He leaves behind his wife and his son
A soldier laid to rest at the age
of twenty-one

Twenty-One

With tears in their eyes the ceremony begins
As the colors are folded by soldiers and friends
He now rests in peace in a land of his own
In a pine wooden box the young soldier came home

Now twenty-one bullets explode into the sky
Fighting for freedom a soldier has died
He leaves behind his wife and his son
A soldier laid to rest at the age

Yeah twenty-one bullets explode into the sky
Fighting for freedom a soldier has died
He leaves behind his wife and his son
A soldier laid to rest at the age

of twenty-one twenty-one

©

Love.  Some say that it is the sole reason to be alive.  Some say that love makes waking up in the morning just a little easier.  However, I find that hard to believe, nothing can make this torture any better.  I rolled to the edge of my bed and flopped onto the ground.  Hi, my name is Jack, Jack Jefferson.  You may be asking yourself, why is this guy such a ******?  Well first of all, this isn’t the nineteen hundreds, what’s with “******”?  Secondly, I am not being a ******, I just don’t see a point in going after something that never lasts and only leaves a nasty **** filled scar.
My life is pretty average I would say.  I was born in the most suburban place on the planet, no siblings and parents are divorced.  I’m not athletic or exceptionally smart.  I’m not artistic or deep in any way.  To top that long list of amazing attributes, I am viewed as weird and not normal because I don’t see all the fuss is about love.
I crawled to my bathroom and propped myself up on the shower door.  I disrobed and turned on the water.  I turned it to the hottest temperature at let the steaming water pierce my skin.  I stayed under the warm comfort of the water until I couldn’t remember what my skin looked like when it wasn’t wrinkled.  I got dressed and decided that I don’t need my breakfast.  I walked outside my one story house that was falling apart in every way imaginable, the paint was pealing, the driveway desperately needed to be repaved, and my mailbox was lying on the ground, it has been knocked over so many times that there would have to be a miracle for it to stand back up.  I just caught my bus and I was on to the prison for teenagers, John Tyler High School.
I went to my first few classes and just got bored so I hung out by my locker.  I sat at the base of the locker and plugged into my phone to listen to my music.  I probably would have stayed in my dazed state until some girl kicked my foot.  I looked up at her, figured that she would go away and then I continued to listen to my music.  She was being a pain though; she kicked me again and motioned for me to take off my headphones.  I sighed as I complied and she just stared at me.
“Can I help you?” I asked her trying to get her to understand that I wasn’t in the mood to talk.
“Yeah, you are kind of in front of my locker,” she answered as she pointed to the locker behind me.  I looked up and examined it.
“This isn’t your locker,” I informed her.
“I think it is, one twenty-six,” she said showing me a slip of paper with her locker information.
“Listen you must be new here, this isn’t your locker, it isn’t anyone’s locker, this busted up thing won’t even lock,” I told her trying to get back to my music.
“Well, yeah, I am new here, I’m Rachael Robinson,” she stretched out her hand as if she wanted a handshake, what are we, forty?  I grabbed her hand and shook it reluctantly.  “So what’s your name?” she asked in that kind of tone that implies that I forgot something.  I hate that, maybe I don’t want you to know my name!
“Jack,” I said trying to give her as little information about myself as possible.
“Jack what?” she now made her way next to me and sat next to me.  I felt incredible uncomfortable with her so close so I got up as fast as I could.
“listen, one twenty-six, your nice in all but I don’t wanna talk, here I’ll let you go to your locker and then we can both be on our way,” I said fed up with the fact that she wasn’t getting any of my hints.  She looked at with me with what looked like disappointment as she slid up and put her combination into the locker.  I put back on my headphones and began to try to forget all about her.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her organize her books in specific ways.  She then tried shutting the door.  It ended up bouncing right open and she looked to me for help.  I just shut my eyes and hoped that she got the hint.  Judging by the fact that she shut the locker as much as she could and walked away without a word.  My mind started going and I instantly felt guilty, I she was new here and she probably just wanted a friend.  I turned up my music and told myself that she was better off not being associated with me.
The rest of the day went by slow and the thought of that girl was still in my head, especially the fact that I couldn’t remember her name.  I decided to just file that as something strange in my head that makes me not forget certain people, like the old guy with the goatee at Wal-Mart, or the little girl scout outside of my bank, no matter who they are I can’t seem to forget them but one thing always stays the same, I never see them again for the rest of my life it seems like.
There was one thing I didn’t factor into this, her locker was one twenty-six, and mine is one twenty-three, so I’ll probably be forced to see her every day for at least the rest of the school year.  Well does it really matter, I mean she must have gotten the message by now.
The next day I didn’t even bother going to any of my classes, I just wondered the halls making sure to avoid any teachers.  When the bell rang for lunch I went to my locker to see if I could scrape up enough money for lunch.  When I reached the hallway that my locker was in, I peered around the corner and I saw someone sitting at my locker.  It took me a couple seconds but I soon realized that it was that girl!
“You know I can see you, right?”  She said before I was able to turn around, walk away, and forget about lunch.
I decided that it was no use hiding anymore so I slowly started walking to her, “Um, listen, don’t take this the wrong way, but can you stop stalking me?”  I asked her trying to be as polite as I can.
“I’m not stalking you, idiot.  I’m eating my lunch at my locker,” she exclaimed.
“Why?” I asked, “You do know that there is a lunch room, with real seats and even a table, I know its new, not a lot of schools have them but I guess we are pretty lucky.”
“Ha ha,” she said sarcastically, “I know about the lunch room, I… I just prefer eating alone.”
“Okay, can I get to my locker?” I asked trying to subtlety motion for her to slide over.  She slid her stuff over and both of us avoided eye contact.  The time it took me to open my locker and push around some books were the longest fifteen seconds of my life.  The worst part is, I didn’t even get any money.  I awkwardly walked away and I didn’t look back.  I felt bad that she was eating alone, don’t get me wrong, but think about it, if I sat with her what kind of message would that send?  I am trying to separate myself from her, not become best friends.
The day went on until my least favorite time of all, time to go home.  Any chance I get I will leave school but even school is better than my home.  I took the bus home, hoping that each speed bump was the bus breaking down.  The bus ended up at my stop in one piece and I reluctantly stepped off.  I checked my mailbox before going into my house.  The mailman is nice enough to still put the mail in the mailbox even though it is on the ground.  I’ve learned to ignore all of the late notices and only focus on the final notice ones.  Turns out they all were final notices this time around so that’s something to look forward to.  I walked inside and plopped on my couch.  I live with my mother for two main reasons.  The first is because of my father’s anger issues is something I just can’t handle anymore.  The second is because I have no idea where he actually is.  After my parents split he left the house, the town, the state, and possibly even the country.  I knew I had the house to myself because it was a weekday, and on those days, my mother works her two part time jobs.  On the weekend she tries to pick up any more shifts that she can.  I’m probably just gonna drop out of school so I can help Mom with the money.  I mean what kind of son I would be if I let my mother literally work herself to death.  She thinks I can’t see it by it is clear what the lack of sleep and the endless stress is doing to her.
I popped some left over pizza into the microwave, sat on my couch, and waited for them to hear that ding.  While I was sitting, I started fighting to stay awake.  Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore and I gave in.  It was one of the worst dreams I’ve had in my entire life.  It started with me riding my bike to the elementary school to see if I can find some lost tennis ***** to try to sell.  Once I got there, it was eerily quiet.  I set down my bike and began to get to work.  As I was walking to the tennis court, something in the distance caught my eye.  I ended up walking passed the court’s entrance because my curiosity got the best of me.  As I was investigating the shimmer of light in the distance, my surroundings began to change.  I was no longer at the elementary school; I was now walking down the hall towards my locker.  I knew where this was leading but for some reason I couldn’t stop moving towards my locker.  Sure enough, she was there, but she was waiting for me, like me seeing her isn’t a coincidence.  She didn’t speak, all she did is smile at me and her body started swaying.  I felt myself start smiling too, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t force myself to stop.  This was no longer my dream.  I was watching two people see each other and I wasn’t either one of them.  My pizza being done awaked me.  I know that that doesn’t mean what I think I know what it means, ya know?  I do not like that girl in any way.  One Twenty-Six can jump off of aa bridge for all I care.  I ended up just throwing out the pizza because I lost my appetite and I just went to bed for the night.  While I was lying in bed I tried desperately to not fall asleep.  One nightmare was enough for one night.
I ending up losing the fight against sleep once again and I was out like a light.  Luckily I didn’t dream that time so when I woke up I was actually a little happy.  I went to school immediately saw her at her locker.  She had a set of tools on the ground next to her and she was doing something to her locker.  I tried walking passed her and to not make any eye contact and I guess it- was a little too obvious that I was trying to ignore her because she immediately stopped what she was doing.
“Look, I know you don’t like me, I don’t know what I did but I know that you for some reason hate me.  So please let’s just accept it because you are making this very uncomfortable,” she said waving a hammer at me.  I was blown away.  This girl is accusing me of making in ‘uncomfortable.’
“I’m the one who’s doing it? Ha, that’s funny.  You’re the one who keeps trying to talk to me when I clearly want to be alone,” I retaliated.
“I talk to you because I know firsthand, sometimes you want to be alone but you hate to be lonely,” She said now dropping the hammer and walking towards me.
“You think you know me, don’t you?” I asked now putting my finger on her chest, “You have no idea who I am or anything about me, so get that through your thick skull One Twenty-Six,” I said with a push.
“And I bet you think you know me, you think I’m some girl who just picks up some piece of trash and tries to become friends with it and make its life better,” she said putting her hand to her chest.  I would never admit it but she was right, I thought she was going to make me her little project.  It was clear that I was losing this fight and so I had to turn the tables to let me win and quick.
“That’s the thing, I don’t know you, and I don’t want to know you.  How would that benefit me to know some new girl?” I said off the cuff.  I felt proud of myself for thinking on my feet but then I noticed what my words had done.  I could see tears forming in her eyes but it was clear that she was using all of her strength to hold them back.  My mind immediately went to the idea that this was part of her plan, to make me feel bad so she could get the rewards of winning.  I stared at her blankly until she turned around without a word and just picked up her hammer again.
“So, uh, what are you doing?” I asked and I immediately regretted the words I chose, I was never good at small talk.
“Trying to fix my locker, you were right, it doesn’t lock,” she had the voice of someone who was about to break down crying.  That just breaks my heart, and on top of that I knew that it was my fault.
“Can’t you, like, call the school or something and ask them to fix it?” I asked putting my hands in my pocket and putting my head down.
I could tell that she already started to put our little conversation behind us, “I already did, and there is not enough money in the budget, so they said that until they get afford s replacement I would have to deal with the problem, so I’m dealing with it.”
“Well do you need a hand, like have you ever done something like this before?” I asked hoping that if I help it’ll excuse me from the guilt.
“Not from you, and no, I have not, but what else am I supposed to do?” she asked.  I feel like even though she asked in a sarcastic tone she was still wanting my help.  I started racking my head for something I could say that would help and then I got an awful idea.
“Hey, uh… since our lockers are so close together, it probably won’t affect you to much if we shared mine, I mean we can share my locker if that’s a solution your…okay with,” my voice trailed off in the end because I really wanted her to say no and I could be in the clear because I made an effort, but I wasn’t going to fight her to do this.
“Sure,” she said, I couldn’t believe how fast she answered.  Was she planning for me to ask, then again she probably was trying to think of all of her choices.  But who does that, I mean I’m not saying she was, but I would have thought that she didn’t want to sound desperate.
“Okay, umm when did you want to move your stuff?” I asked a little taken back of this entire evening.
“Well I got a lot of stuff, why don’t you give me your combo, cause I can do it while you’re in class,” she answered.
“C’mon, you know I don’t go to class,” I reminded her.
“Well why don’t you?” she asked as I took out a piece of paper and wrote down my locker combination.
“Well let’s just say that once I turn sixteen in a couple months, you can have that locker for yourself,” I told her, making sure I avoided eye contact.  You know how that subject is with some people, they take it so personally like you’re making them drop out too.
“You do know that you have to get parent consent at sixteen, it’s not until you are eighteen that you are able to leave without anyone’s permission,” she informed me, as if I hadn’t already looked into it.
“It’s called forging my Mom’s signature,” I told her.
“Wouldn’t your parents make you go?” she asked, so innocently I couldn’t be mad at her ignorance.
“First off, you mean parent, my father skipped town before I could remember.  And secondly, my Mom needs my help, once I leave I can get a job and we will be able to pay the bills,” I explained.
“Okay,” she said.  That’s all she said.  Why would that be all she said? ‘Okay,’ really?  That’s all you have to say.  I’ve been lectured day in and day out on how I’m not running my life, but all she says is ‘Okay.’
“Is that it?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, what else would there be?” she a

Its now five twenty-one
So says the clock by my pen
My family all sleeps, but not me

At five twenty-one I sit awake and wonder
How time does pass me by
For is it not just a creation of man?

Five twenty-one
A time when the sun has yet to rise
Though the moon had already more than set

At five twenty-one I can see her
A figment that might not exist
The love I thought I remembered
Though if not real, then really imaginary

The time, five twenty-one
I'm exhausted, my eyes feel heavy
But I could no more sleep than I could sprout wings
She thought that was funny

Even at five twenty-one when she first woke up
Does she bring with her the most prominent thoughts of beauty
Even so early does she bring with her a light that makes me smile

So at five twenty-one I have to ask
Is she the figment of my imagination,
Or am I the guy she's been dreaming of?

twenty one pilots
aren't you forgetting something?
the twenty second second
second from the one
one you forgot

the twenty second ammend-ment
meant a lot
to the twenty second pilot
twenty two pilots doesn't sound about as right though

stuck in the shadows
waters so shallow
swallow the bitterness
betterness isn't a word apparently
twenty second pilot take a taxi cab

First line says it all
Second line says more
Third line is a little different
Forth line makes you sure

Fifth line takes you places
Sixth line has never seen
Seventh line is hasty
Eight line is a little obscene

Ninth line grasps the tone of Eight
Tenth line will make you blush
Eleventh line will stop and pause
Twelfth line will fall into the hush

There may be a thirteenth
or fourteenth or fifteenth line
a sixteenth or seventeenth
that might have left you blind

An eighteenth line that made you yawn
A nineteenth that made you smile
A twentieth that made you stop
reading for a while

A twenty first or twenty second
that commanded you go back
to the start

Or a twenty third and
twenty forth line
was what grabbed your heart

The twenty fifth line
undid all your beliefs
The twenty six line
walked down old streets

The twenty seventh and twenty eighth
crossed paths that were parallel
The twenty ninth and thirtieth line
knows stories it will never tell

Yet only the first line is read
the last line is the lie
that forces all the other lines
to just sit idly by

It's been one hundred and twenty two days since you died.
Some people prefer to say passed away,
or went to a better place,
but I'm still having a hard time believing you're
gone so I guess I'm trying to convince myself.

It's been one hundred and twenty two days since you died.
That was the longest week of my life,
watching you but unable to talk with you.
I remember holding your hand knowing
that I was going to wish I could do the same
in one hundred and twenty two days.
I was right.

It's been one hundred and twenty two days since you died.
We cleaned out some of your apartment today,
but it took us 10 hours to get through your closet
because we didn't want to let go of any piece of you.
But we did, we gave away 15 bags and 2 boxes of you.

It's been one hundred and twenty two days since you died.
I found two pennies while we were working,
I know you were there watching.
But even if I believe that with my entire heart, it doesn't
take away the ache that has grown within me since you died.

It's been one hundred and twenty two days since you died.
You brought happiness to every single person you talked to,
and I know you would want everyone to do the same.
I'm trying to let my sadness go, but it isn't easy.

It's been one hundred and twenty two days since you died.
I didn't think I would make it one hour without you,
but you held my hand through it all.