**** all those who
got everything they needed in life
right from the womb,
born with a silver spoon in their mouth
and promised more in the future.

**** all those who
inherited that top one percent
as their coming-of-age,
the keys to the world dropped into an uncaring hand
and used as a simple plaything

**** all those who
have been blessed with enough
and more than enough,
but still insist on accumulating more and more and more
and ignoring those they believe are beneath them.

h.f.m.

Bless all those who
never had the bare minimum
since the day they were born,
fighting for every scrap of life
and still sharing the small surplus.

Bless all those who
were born into a minority
to be scorned and ridiculed,
only told it was because of color, gender, whatever
and that those were reasons to be spited.

Bless all those who
society had ******
just for existing,
those who's lives are a battleground
and who can still lend a helping hand.

h.f.m.

we comfort our souls with lies
and we
burn our homes to be free.

we dab perfume on our dead bodies
and we
stitch smiles on faces to be happy.

we turn up the music (too loud)
to be deaf upon the cries of our names
wedged between curses
and scorching regrets.

we try to dance along with the songs
of ghosts -
whose skeletons have been
long forgotten in our antique closets.

we drain bottle after bottle,
light a cigarette after another,
**** ourselves so we don't die -
a surrender to loneliness is worse, after all.

and so...

we say goodbye without considering
that we are worthy enough to stay,
we apologize for the words
we actually meant to say.

we crawl back to our hollowed grounds -
yet we love with the strength of that
who has never been loved.

we travel barefoot on unknown,
desolate roads
in the hopes to find where we belong.

we do the mistakes we've done before,
not because we are stupid,
but god, because we've learned.

When youth comes crawling to me
On it's hands and knees
Tears in its eyes
Begging
"Make the pain go away, help me, please."
I simply smile
And kiss it's damp cheek
Then laugh a little laugh
For youth is always weak
You can call me hurtful
You can call me mean
But I crouch down and say to youth
"Don't worry, everyone wants to die when they're seventeen."

                     **The Suicide Diaries

Ingredients:
- one (1) human shell
- one (1) sad or disastrous childhood memory
- one or more (1+) fear(s) and/or anxiety(s)
- one or more (1+) instances of contact with illness in loved ones
- one (1) empathetic heart [note: must still be beating]
- one (1) list of reasons to hate [but loving anyway]
- two or more (2+) supporters [even if only friends]
- several (1-3+) seeds of creativity
- infinite (∞) reasons to write

Steps:
1. Take the human shell, and open its mind. Place inside the sad memory, and mix with fear and ill loved ones. Let sit for 13-18 years.

2. Open the human's chest and place in the heart, pulsing steadily. Once the heart is embedded, engrave the list of reason to hate, but remember to saturate with uncaring attachment and devotion.

3. Connect this human to at least two others who will uphold them unconditionally, but don't make them perfect. Nobody is. Your human may not take heed of their support, but this is a necessary step.

4. Place the seeds of creativity in the well-cultivated, sorrowful mind and water liberally with reasons to write. Allow the ideas to ferment.

5. Release your completed poet into an ink rich environment and supply with plenty of paper, internet, and books. Remember to feed at least once a day and set a curfew if your poet tends to sleep less than three hours a night. Warning: these creatures are delicate, but immensely powerful. Handle with care and caution. They're your problem now.

h.f.m.