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I am from the steam, boiling *** of ramen noodles,
Car oil and sawdust staining my skin
from Paper Towel brand paper towels and Dawn brand Dish soap
From Bud Light cans to Fifths of whiskey
I am from the mold of wet wood, from a house of glass and rock,
From the cramped space and thin walls
Hot, Angry, Smelly, Tight, Cloudy, lost
It felt like we were made of the glass rock surrounding us.
I am from the rusted rims, I am from the big backyard, i am from the cramped sounds of shouting
The  Rusted rims stuck up high, a tower held stable but being torn apart.
The Big Backyard marking out what was ours, all this space and yet I cannot escape.
The sounds of shouting being normalized by repetition, not natural to you but a natural occurrence to me.
I’m from the caring and from the drunk.
I’m from the God fearing fearful family hiding from Him in a cloud of smoke and a castle of empty cans and bottles.
From Dana and Morgan who got clean for health and love
From Brett and Sean whose love is for their poisonous fix
From Louis and Tara who would do anything for their little babies
From Bob and Tim whose patience has grown thinner for sons long lost
I’m from the emotional abuse and the constant telling of “Good Job!”
I’m from the “God ******” and “God Loves you”
I’m from the “God Loves All” and the “God hates YOU”
I’m from the hiding behind a closet door full of deception and lies
I’m from being forced out and finding a escapeway to another closet filled like the last, with lies from the

From never drink and watch me drink down my sorrowful cries
from “never be afraid to be you” to “Who have you become?”

I’m from family who told me to believe God is all. He loves all.
I cannot love that which cannot love what i feel
I’m from Drinkers and Druggies
Oyster Stew and Grandmas Cookies
I am from 3.
3 families
3 homes
3 traits I dare not call my own
3, the triangle is the strongest shape. Wish I could be made of triangles. 3 is the family divided by old age and pain, no change ever to be found. Hard as a rock and hands covered in marks of fighting to keep me in 3.
2, every story has it’s 2 sides. Wish the feeling of being forced to pick sides would be gone. 2 is the family divided by a 2 sided blade. Slashed down the middle, the divide forever growing in size, I sit and listen to their cries feeling powerless. Two, divided they stand forever listening to fake laughs and breaking glass.

1, everyone has at least one flaw. Perfection is a flaw, because perfection is a lie. Their fake perfection dies at the opening and closing of the door, blocking out the world that they swear is the cause of their habits. How can it be their fault if the fault is not claimed?  This one is a family combined all under the intoxicating toxicity of alcohol.
I wish to change the world for the world has always been changing around me. I wish to build houses for the poor by employing the people who need funding the most.
I am from a house, upon a house, upon a house…...3 families all flawed between 2 drugs and alcohol, united under me. One.
Where am I from? I am from the everything, choosing to try and keep nothing hidden. I have searched for the cure, hastily trying to put bandaids on bullet holes. Leaving holes in my family, I try to fix them all. But I am surrounded on all sides by the people who shout, no wonder I cannot keep a sound,.. fascinated by the horrifying realization I have to switch who I am for every family,... I go…
Who am I?
one day
the buildings will crumble  
and ships will be rust
and everyone on the earth living right now will be dust
one day
the earth will take over
and those which did not crumble will become the jungle
and those that did not rust will become earths crust
and still, everyone living will be dust
After 10 years, you’d think someone would care. After 10 years you’d think when they left they’d leave a tear.
But 7 years have now passed, and I still miss the past.
if the world didnt hate us
if our looks didnt make us

if our writing didnt save us
if our familys never betrayed us

if our smiles werent fake
if our love life was in sync

if our if's could be true
i wouldve never met you
does time really pass

your hands shake the glass

your eyes shake my heart

your glance takes me apart
Sooner or later you will turn ten
I will turn time
just to see you again
sooner or later
youll be a man
ill still live with the memory of being able to hold your small, little hand
sooner or later
you'll have a wife, you will give your kids life
your kids will not have to know any struggle or strife
but first
you will turn ten
do you need to sacrifice your life
join the corps
keep your core
end up as a corpse
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