i will always associate back flips
with my first "boyfriend" in the third
grade who has probably now grown
up to be the type of guy who takes
pictures of himself shirtless in the bathroom
mirror and tells his girlfriend that she's pretty
but not quite as pretty as he is.

i will always associate playgrounds
with my elementary school sweetheart
and hearing my favorite love song and
him walking five steps behind and defending
me when he thought i needed it.

i will always associate the rain
with wet tables and standing up
and laughing with friends and talking
and being wrapped in someone's arms
for the very first time and hearing "i missed you."

i will always associate "almosts" with the guy
i never really realized i wanted until it was too late
and seeing him walk around holding the hand of the
girl who wanted him when i didn't and seeing him kiss
her the way he wanted to kiss me once upon a time
and with screwing up really really irreparably bad this time.

i will always associate short time periods with the two weeks
when i belonged to someone I never expected to want,
when he kissed me like i mattered,
when he held me as though he would never let go
and then told me we should "take a break" and
come back to us when the "time was right."

and i will always associate happiness with these times
when i was loved and wanted and needed for just a little while
and believing for just a moment that i was special.

and you know what else?

i will always associate failure with the entrance of something better
i will associate failure with a narrow escape because if it were meant
for me to have then i would have had it but it's not so i don't.

i will always associate life with beautiful complications.

Now or never
whether we want to or not
they've got us by the balls
and though we built walls
to defend against these invaders of free will
we will need to be stronger
build our walls bigger and better than ever before
and let them kick out the windows and doors
we'll just brick them up and no one gets in
and no one gets out
and no one but no one knows what this is all about.
but the walls stay because they want us to rot
they've got us by the balls and all we can do is build more and more walls
and who wins in the end?
when we're all sent to Coventry with bags of cement so we can lend some authority to the people up there
and they don't give a damn
they jam us into categories with the same krappy old stories
that it's good for our health while they're spending the wealth that they stole from the miners and while they're dining on beef
we're starving
good grief
and they've got us by the balls
in glass coloured test tubes lubricated,dedicated to the rise of the monarchs
and it can't be for real
we'd never allow that
but laying flat on our back and winking eyes at the sun
is where this begun.
In the minds of the merchants and in the pockets of wise men
in the back alleys of bigots and bigshots
and what have we got?
you know it,
A box full of sawdust and a whole heap of shit
so the walls get a little longer
a little stronger
but they'll break us one day
and take us away to a recycle plant
and they'll plant us as seeds to service their needs
and their needs will get greater the later they leave it
there's a whole load of shit
a coming our way.

Pleasant it was the bright night sky,
Destined it was the stars all here.
Fearful he was the moon flew by

And as we turned, oh me oh my,
It turned with us with face of fear.
Nothing it was could ever die

Beneath the stars for we could fly
Farther than one could want to hear.
Fearful he was the moon flew by

With us, so strange, we saw him cry
We went to him and hushed his tear,
Nothing it was could ever die.

Returned home, my boy slept so shy,
Watching we sang soft for his ear,
"Fearful He Was The Moon Flew By"

Pleasant it was the bright night sky
Destined it was the stars all here
Fearful he was the moon flew by
Nothing it was could ever die

Why must they beg, make me want to kill them?
Down on their knees, and I am the villian?
They are weak, scum, shit beneath my boot.
A .45 from my backside, I point. Shoot.

My inner demon cackles, her eery whisper no more.
And I cry out, dropping to the blood covered floor.
Eyes wide, twinkling with wetness, I look at what I have done.
Did I... did I really just have fun?

I want to scoop the poor girl up, go outside and run.
I want save your life, but it was my gun.
I still have yet to move a muscle, my mind is reeling.
Tell me what is real, what the fuck am I feeling?

Someone else is in control as I pick myself up,
Is that you? yup.
I'm tripping over my own feet
As I run like I've been beat.

Fucking never ending hallway
I scream for my NIGHTMARE  TO  GO  AWAY
But she has me in her arms, alive or not
I remove my .45, point it at my brain..
                                                             ­              take  one  last  shot.

She is now waiting
at my front door,
I hear her laughter echoing
I want more….
She slivers through the door
as she slowly moves,
she's guided by the stench
of poisonous booze..

She has a pressed on an ego...
un....like mine,
her words a scapel,
cutting deep into my spine.
She cries dry tears
into her liquor,
any twinge of conscience
grows
thin not thicker.

I trip and I fumble
it seems everyday,
as I try to keep her
from my heart's pathway.
I dream of something more
but I'm led astray,
but soon I'll leave this hell
and have my say.

I can't climb out
of this blaze she's built,
her fiery waves
attempt to hide her guilt.
She laughs as she watches
me incinerate
with double crossed fingers
she thinks she's sealed my fate.

My direction now,
is flustered orange and blue,
thoughts that my mind
simply can't filter through.
I see the fiction
in her diverting eyes,
as she runs her hands
down her tempting thighs.

I dream upon dream
of something more,
full of grace and beauty
a pleasure to adore.

But for now she will suffer
I won't care at all,
She will follow my plan,
one marked for
her fall.

Found someone new and I lost the old me.

I miss that little girl that's locked up screaming to be free.

Find that little girl and hug her tight.

She's weeping, trying to keep her head up high.

HA HA HA. HAHA.

Those laughter rang in her ears since she was five,
when the kids in kindergarten called her ugly.

Until now, it still haunts her.

Those words slowly became the monsters that she have came to love.

Because they become her shield.
How can she love herself when she loves the monsters in her head more?

When she can't bring herself to run away from them.

When she listens to them and shut out the ones she holds dear to.

And these people who actually LOVES. HER. BACK.

And before she can love another, she needs to love herself. FIRST.

She. Is me. I, am her.

I have been mourning for these monsters for a while now.

I realized I need to kill them before they kill me.

Before they make me kill that little girl that is crying but is trying to fight her way back.

These monsters have been a part of me that I have been holding on.

I used to hide behind them whenever I feel insecure.

They helped me build a wall to cower and cry behind.

They helped me disconnect myself from the world.
So that the rest of the world can feel comfortable.

Being disconnected gives you time to think.

Loneliness breeds thoughts.

Guess the fuck what?
No more of that bullshit.

My impression is here so stay.

My footprints will forever be marked behind me,
whether I like it or not.
And I think that I need a small spot for my footprints.

For me.

ME.

I crave for understanding and support.

I crave for genuine embraces.

I will explore.

Anywhere, everywhere.

Anything, everything.
And maybe you,
someday, one day.
My thirst for genuine affections
are driving me insane
but is inhibited my angst.

Because…
How do I explain to my mother that her only daughter,
her only child is one confused mess.

I like girls.
I like boys.

I might not like girls.
I might not like boys.

Maybe I like both.

Maybe I am just blind…to gender.
One way or another,
I have come to accept that it doesn't really matter.
Whichever way, I go, it's okay.
I want to stop apologizing for cussin’ around.

Because to me they are motherfucking appropriate.
I am fucking tired of having to be sorry for being me.

I am fucking tired of having to be censored.
Just because some people think that
my orientation is an abomination to the population,
blaming people like me for the demoralization of the institution just because they are the ones without proper education.
But fuck that, this is my identification.

I will never know when the time is right,
so I'm putting the hourglass into someone else’s hand.
I guess I will let time do its job.
For now, I am happy with our
awkward little conversations.
You deserve to know that I am just flattered of your existence.
And y’know what?
I think you do a fucking good job at that.
I want you to exist beside me.
To hold my hand in public
and not care about offending anyone by doing so because it shouldn't.

For now, I am holding on to the hope
that maybe you will accept me one day.
I feel things that I don’t understand when I’m with you.
Fucking kiss me out in the streets.
When our eyes met,
fireworks lit up in my chest but at night
those monsters put them out like rain
I trip over these feelings but hold them back because
of my fear of rejection.
Because I want to be good at being good to you.
Taking out these monsters may all need a lot work but I got time.

"Mother"
I asked
"What does convoluted mean?"

She sighed.
"Don't be  a smart ass..."

Snare, snare
High-hat

It isn't so much a joke
As it is a fun-house reflection
A warped mirror pointed at a fat kid with thick rimmed glasses
Silly teeth
And nervous hands

"Mother,
Is childhood a degenerative disease?"

Applause

It wasn't so much a question
As it was the act of turning over a stone in the garden
And finding the long forgotten grave of one "Thomas the Goldfish"
Clean picked bones
And angry sadness

"Mother,




...Mother?"


Crickets


And it wasn't so much an absence
As it was a shell-game with no marble
A sudden realization that all we are is meat
Clean picked bones
And nervous hands

i'll always be the one waiting
being the one they depend on
and yet i dont mind
because that's life, you cant expect it to be perfect
even though you want to you just cant
why ?
well, find the reason why and one day you'll understand
why nobody is born with a perfect life