don't be a person
that can lie to a person
that can **** for a person
that can cry like a person
that can act like a person
that can buy like a person
that can ***** like a person
that can die like a person
that can speak like a person
that can eat like a person
that can speed like person
that can grieve like a person
that can steal like a person
that can feel like a person
that can gloom like a person
that can doom like a person
that can draw like a person
that can awe like a person
that can love like a person
that can shove like a person
that can be a person

Each day I sit: numb hands, numb feet
Waiting for the autopilot to take my space
So I can fall asleep in the passenger seat
And wake up in a different place

Or even drift right past tomorrow
If I'm his hostage, he's my plague
Because the bumpy road he tolerates
Always rocks away my aches

My body is held by strings
And my eyes no longer blink
So I stay in the passenger seat
And keep choosing not to think

and then
all of a sudden
it becomes an invisible part of the past
in which you don't exist

Did you stop smiling
when they plucked
the stars from your eyes?
Did you cry out in pain
when you first began
to understand this life?
I hope so.
I hope you didn't just
let the moment pass
you by.
We learn to suffer
because to suffer is to learn
and we think that makes
it alright, but we never
get to hold the child we
were. We never get to
say goodbye.
We become cynics
born to burn away,
born to die.
Our innocence is borrowed
from the universe.
It's just on loan.
We have to give it back
when we're done with it.
When we're grown.
Knowing that we live
in mourning of
who we used to be.
Do you ever wonder
what became of you when
you stopped being me?
It's probably alright.
It's likely just fine.
Still, I hope you wonder
about it from time to time.

A passing spirit
Might hear it
When I talk to myself
Inside my head
I don't fear it
I cheer for it
I hide nothing from it
I open my soul to it
It changes me
It clears up the misconceptions
I talk to it
Lay before it
What I can't express
How my soul is stressed
Can't show my face
My lungs are full of toxic waste
My heart is venomous
My head suppresses it
A filter silences me
Truth is repressed in me
Words form in my heart
But are too revolutionary
My friends are distasteful
Speaking to people
Is a leap of faith
Some are like sheep
Most are stubborn like goats
I don't want to be an influence
Don't want to be heard
Except by the passing spirit
The passing bird
In my head

i hate men
i didn't say all
so before you try to patronize me
let me actually talk
i hate men
i never said all
but you know the ones i mean
a majority evading fault

i hate when i have to prove myself
when i've bent over backwards to please
my grace and wit dismissed
i'm supposed to laugh when they harrass me
when i report
i'm a tease
or i'm a *****
or i don't get how the joke was funny
the ***** gallery wants to chip in
keep the two cents
i don't need the nuisance
or the blatant violation
***** in my mouth
when you act like i'm just some doll to play with

Blank Out

Sometimes the words
Just don’t come
No matter what
There’s no inspiration
Nothing strikes me
Nothing is there
Just a blank page
It’s like a winter white out
It’s painful
The desire is there
The want to write
But nothing comes
It’s frustrating
I want it to end
The inspiration
To once again come
Blank Out