I'm a white, male,
American dreamsicle
who says "****"
way too much
to not be cool.

I read about my father issues
on my mother's face.
I hate things and people
because the news told me to.
Art is ****** and ****** is art;
when Billy killed Sue,
my heart raced.
Do drugs with me
or do none at all;
promise me when we're high
we won't fall.

There are ******* on the street
and the cops are shooting them.
There are ******* kissing
and old, white men are scared.
There are mentally ill people
and they are "seeking attention".
There are women with voices
and old, white men are scared.

I am an American Dreamsicle:
cold, unhealthy, and killing your kids.
You can buy me for 40% off
and I promise to take 60% of your ideals.
I am what my parents don't want me to be
and that is the appeal.
Little do I know, I am every thing you are
and that is my cancer.

I sit on this comfortable branch
I have worn grooves into the bark
with talons grasp I have weathered many storms.

There was then a wind blowing in January
that made the limb sway and I worriedly cooed,
I was so sure this storm would pass on, as all the others had,

I loved the home, I perched on;
felt as safe as in a nest,
the winds of change blew;

and I found I must fly again
into the cold winds of change,
I soar again.

Young man, its time to wake up.
Your love affair with death has got to go.

From many long years, you have to rake up.
The Leaves from the past.

Slow suicide is no way to go.

Blue, colored gray days
Dizzy weakend by the haze
Infection is not a phase

The cracks and lines from where you failed.
They make an easy man to read.

For all those times you bleed.
For a little peace from God you plea and beg

Your not a fake now, so wake up.
Now is your time not to go.

I need you to take
the fragments that broke
and stick them back
in swiftly stroke.

I kept trying, I did, but
couldn't do it myself you see;
oh please won't you rip off
this bandage for me?

I want to be able to feel
all that's past but isn't gone
but with my heart in pieces
I just can't know what's wrong.

There's no pressure really
just please make it clean
and don't puncture any of
my major arteries.

I'm strong enough?
No, you don't understand
I knew what I could take, but-
this isn't what I'd planned.

This broke me but it didn't hurt;
now I'm just practically dead.
I need someone else to fix me
so I can remember how I hit my head.