She’s the kind of friend who knows what you think before you think it.
Her laugh is familiar,
Like hot chocolate on a winter day.
Her presence is safe;
She reminds you of that big tree fort you and your brother built to hide from the fairies
And forest monsters.
Her room is home to you.
It’s where you go when something goes bump in the night.
She will never judge you for the out of pocket things you say or do, and
Her watchful eyes make you feel
Protected and seen for who you are.
She leaves tomorrow.
Back to Kentucky, 2,000 miles away.
And now you’re afraid
That you’ll never have a cup of hot chocolate again.
That the monsters and the fairies will finally catch you
Or the bumps in the night paralyze you with fear.
Nobody will ever know your soul
The way she did
And you’re afraid of being unknown and alone again.

Four years ago I didn’t think I’d be anywhere.
I didn’t think I’d be alive.
But now,
I’m breathing in the ****** air quality of
El Centro, CA.
Stationed at an Airbase near by.
A few things have changed since I last checked in, guys.
I joined the navy, I work aviation.
F-18 fight attack jets.
It’s been a hell of a journey so far.
I went from Great Lakes, to Pensacola, to Virginia Beach, and now I’m here in El Centro.
I’ve made friends.
Bonds that are stronger than titanium, or steel, or concrete.
I’ve lost friends too.
From distance, from death.
But the strangest thing is, we’re always connected.
My friends that are deployed to the South China Sea, when they’re in port
They always message me about how deployment is going.
They don’t forget me.
My friends that are touring around Europe,
Saez is in Greece.
Lockhart is in Norway.
Root is in Italy.
They always message me to tell me about it.
I’m not lonely anymore.
I’m not sad.
I’m so happy.
Every morning I wake up to the sound of Blue Angels flying
And it’s music to my ears.
I have a family again. It’s amazing.

A simple white flower
Blooming on a citrus tree.
It’s opulent scent, filling my lungs
In the early dew of daybreak,
Scattering my brain, feeling the lull of
Hiraeth, a sickness for home.

In the gentle whispering wind,
The saccharine perfume whirls around
Lifting my spirit towards the Gemini moon.
It whispers “Hiraeth,”
As my lungs teem with
It’s overwhelming scent,
And my soul brims with peace,
Thinking of a long forgotten home.

Because he makes my heart skip a beat,
Nor do I mind our feet touching feet.
”Magic is of the moment,
And when the magic does fleet
There goes but the moment.”


-j

When the house is on fire,
Do you wait around and discuss the fire,
Or do you get out of the ******* house?
See, a rational human would smell the smoke,
Or feel the heat,
Or hear the alarms going off,
And tuck tail and run.
But me?
If you told me to stay in this blazing fortress,
I would.
If you told me you needed me to stay, until there was
Nothing but ashes around me, I would.
I'm a sucker for pain, everyone knows that.
Even if it hurts me, I'd still do it for you.
I know that's not healthy,
But I love you.

Four years ago, I felt like the world was ending.
My friend Christina Grimmie was murdered on June 10th.
On June 12th, 50 people were killed in a night club.
Four years ago 51 people lost their lives to gun violence.
Every year since then, around this time I'm eaten by a certain sadness.
It's hard to describe.
It's like I can't breathe, or I'm taking in oxygen and it's never enough.
It's like theres holes in my lungs and the air is escaping.
Never quite full, never quite the same.
I miss her.
I feel the Pulse family's pain.
Most of all, though, I feel sick.
Like every time I think about what happened I want to *****.
I miss her.
Four years ago and I miss her more and more.

I meant to add to the last one
That its agonizing for me.
And by that I mean,
I hate not being your friend.
But it's the right thing for me, I think.
It's the only way I'll ever be able to get over it and process properly, cutting ties with you.
Because as long as I'm tied to you, I'm also always going to be tied to him.
And I don't want that.
As much as I love you.
As much as I miss you.
I just can't do it right now.

Admittedly, I still read some of your poems.
I did, just now.
You wrote that sometimes you think I forget that you were his victim too.
But.
He never ***** you.
He never abused you.
He never made you feel like you were worthless,
Always the last choice,
And he certainly didn't take your best friend away from you.
I remember picking out your white wedding dress with you.
I remember how beautiful you looked in it,
With it's laced back and fitting form.
I remember being happy that you were happy.
But in the room, as you tried it on,
I also remember feeling a little betrayed.
A thought nagged at the back of my mind:
"How could she do this, knowing what he's done?"
I still don't quite understand how you can be with him.
I don't know what the appeal is.
How could you walk around town holding onto his arm
Without thinking "they know what he is?"
Why do you want to be the girl who married a *** offender?
Why do you want to explain to your neighbors that your husband is on the registry?
I just don't get it...

This past week has been a blur.
A range of emotions from
anger
sadness
confusion
to
happiness
excitement
bliss.
For nearly 3 months I prayed he would come back.
I loved him, and still do.
I knew we could work it out.
I believed so firmly that we were the ones for each other.
And here we are,
a week after getting back to talking.
It's almost like nothing has changed.

Sometimes,
All I want to do is run my fingers
Through your curly red hair.
To caress your face
And feel the texture of your beard
Under my hands.

Sometimes,
All I want to do is
Look into your pretty, blue eyes
Framed by your pale blond lashes.
To admire the freckles peppered across
The bridge of your nose.

Sometimes,
All I want to do is hear your laugh.
To hear your voice when you get home,
Saying, "Baby, I'm here."

Sometimes,
I miss you so much that it's hard to breathe.
I wish that we could talk.
I wish we could be friends like we were before.
I wish you weren't so stubborn.
I wish I knew why.

Sometimes,
Only sometimes,
I still cry.

I'm taking a break you guys. Writing on this page has recently become about the likes, and not the meaning behind the words. Gonna take some time to rediscover my love for literature. I love you. Thanks for being here for me.

Even now;
Even through the heartache you're giving me,
My heart still skips a beat when I see you.
And instead of cry
I smile.
Even now;
When all you want is space
When you're near me, I can still breathe.
Even now...

I am an engine, and I will run without stopping until i fail.
Until i sputter and spit.
Until I'm wheezing for nourishment;
For proper maintenance.
I'll get you out of your holes,
And carry you up that mountain so your legs wont have to do the work.
I'll keep you warm in the winter.
I'll make sure you're cool in the summer.
I'll carry you for hundreds of miles before i need a break.
And when I break down, need an oil job,
Need a part replaced,
You'll fix it.
Begrudgingly, but you'll fix it.
And then off I go, working, working working.
Spitting, sputtering, wheezing, coughing.
Finally, I die. A bad fuel line,
And rusty pistons that don't pump anymore.
I am discarded.

For 8 years straight, you've called me worthless more times than I can count.
Called me stupid,
ugly
fat
useless
An ungrateful little *****.
For eight. Years. Straight.
You told me that all my life,
Since I was a old enough to walk.
All the bad things that have happened to me,
Are all my fault.
"You're worthless."
I started to believe it, at one point in time.
Started to think you were right.
But... recently I've come to believe that
you are the worthless one.
You, are a worthless waste of ******* space on this planet.
You, deserve everything that happened to you.
Your kids getting taken away.
Your brother killing himself after you refused to go and get him.
Your failing marriage.
Your **** relationship with your family.
And it's all because YOU are the worthless one.

I'm grieving a Lost friendship.
My best friend
Victoria.
Can I still call her that?
Could I have ever called her that?
Some of you might have heard me speak her name in hate,
In anger,
In pure, undying rage.
But today I speak it in love,
Because I love her;
Victoria.
I love her, but I had to let her go.
She's the only one who understood,
What I was going through.
What my family life was like, as a Big Sister,
As an unloved child.
She even understood the heartbreak I endured in 2015.
To an extent.
And this brings us to the second stage of grief:
Anger.
I am angry at her for choosing him over me.
If she were my friend, how could she be with him?
Knowing what he did to me, to JRF?
To Molly, with hair like a lion's mane?
How could she see blindly past it?
I can never get his touch out of my aching skull;
How can she love being touched by the same hand who hurt me?
Who hurt at least 3 others?
I asked my mom what she thought.
Was our friendship weird?
Awkward?
Unusual?
"Imagine if Anna got together with Travis, who I am still to this day traumatized by, 21 years later. Of course it would be awkward to be her friend.
She wasn't a true friend."
Could that be?
Could that really be the truth behind the pretty pictures?
Could she, deep down, not see me as a friend?
"It's always been about winning with her. She has Mark, who you were so in love with. She's trying to dangle that over your head. That's what she's always done!"
But that's not true.
All we had was eachother, for the longest time.
We're past all that, right?
Right??
Maybe.
.... right?
I loved her.
Victoria.
I'm angry at her.
Victoria.
I love her, and I'm angry at her.
I miss her.
Victoria....
- The Spider

Everything always seemed to happen by your house,
and hidden by the trees.

It was a couple weeks after I slapped you.
We were in the woods again.
The snow was melting, and the frozen muddy ground
was visible again.
I sat down on a log, and you sat next to me.

"I really want to try. Can we please just try it?"

You looked at me, pleading for me to try to have *** with you.
But the thing is, you knew I'd never had *** before.
I was scared, and you knew that.

"If you loved me, you would try."

Being fifteen years old and a suicidal wreckage,
I didn't want you to leave me.
I was naïve enough to think this was love.
I agreed that I would try, not that it would go anywhere.

You laid down your jacket, so that neither of us would get muddy.
I started to pull off my pants, but I left my underwear on.
I just wanted to get used to the idea of your **** near that area.
I explained that to you, and you seemed to get it.

"Are you ready?"

I told you no, that I wasn't ready for any of this.
But I would do it for you because I love you.
You pulled off my underwear, and got yourself into position.
My heart was pounding. I kept saying for you to go slow.
And you did.

As your **** began to touch, I started to panic.
I was stuck, frozen in terror.
I had never had *** before, and I 100%  knew I wasn't ready to yet.
As you put your tip in, I remember that it started to hurt really bad.

"STOP. STOP. I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS, PLEASE STOP."

You didn't though.
Instead, you pinned me down,
putting your weight against my struggling body.

"No, I don't want to. Just let me get it in once, and then I'll stop."

My heart dropped.
This is where I began to panic.
I felt you try to put it in just a little more, but the pain was too much.
I let out a small scream, and then I started to cry.

And that's where you started to panic.
You got off of me, looking hurt and upset.
I put my clothes back on, and you picked up your jacket.

I was reeling. I was scared.
And you were mad because your jacket got *****.
I was still crying, and after what seemed like an eternity you
asked if I was okay.
I played it off like everything was fine.
Heaven forbid I hurt you.

Yes. That was just really scary. I asked you to stop, and you didn't and I just got nervous, that's all.

We went to your house.
You walked me home.

Winter; late 2014/ early 2015

"I need to know that you'll be able to stop me if I can't stop myself.
I don't know if I would be able to stop myself."

In the woods by the baseball diamond,
you took my hand.
The setting sun was glowing through the trees,
and a fresh blanket of snow gently covered the ground.
Your green eyes shined in the speckled sunlight,
contrasting against your dark hair and pale skin.
You stepped towards me.
You started to kiss me.
You started to take it further.

"Hey, stop. I'm not ready, please stop."

I pushed you away;
I tried to, at least.

"I don't want to stop. YOU have to stop me."

After I asked you to stop a few more times,
without any signs that you were going to listen,
I finally slapped you.
I slapped you across the face, hard,
and I just looked at you.

"Well, now I know that you can stop me if you need to."

You had said it like it was amusing to you.
I was scared.
But I loved you, so I forgave you.
I stood there, in my blue fleece jacket, freezing,
frozen, scared,
telling you that I loved you and that I forgave you,
when I didn't even fully realize what could have just happened.

I walked home.
Oblivious.

It'll get better.
You're young, and you still have a life to live.
No matter how deep inside a hole you feel,
You can always dig yourself out.
You can find that light,
Whether it's in music or video games,
In art,
In science...
Or even in yourself.
You will survive because I believe in you.

I have vivid dreams.
I dream in color; dreams of laughter,
Dreams of sorrow, dreams that are caked in blood and fear.
Occasionally, though, the dreams I dream are muddled,
Only flashes of seemingly arbitrary scenes in every day life.
"It was only a dream. No context or meaning," I tell myself.
And then I see that same little arbitrary scene while I'm awake.
Like sitting on the floor at Grant's house in my dream,
And now in my waking life.
At the store, with Whitney jumping all around, giggling and being roudy.
I believe I am on the right path,
Because my dreams have shown me the outcomes of my choices.

except...
my heart is as cold as the ice
on the ground...
dead as the trees come winter.
how i miss my family
in a land so far away...

There is always a reason
why people listen to certain songs.
To certain artists.
To certain genres.
Somehow, music has this mysterious
Enchantment over the human brain.
Something that makes
Even the most aloof brain
click.
I listen to songs that I can relate to,
Or songs that have the ability to bring out emotion in me.
I listen to songs that make me sad
When I'm sad
Because the slow melodies are
comforting.
Sometimes what a person listens to,
Is a reflection of themselves on the inside.
I went through two playlists from people
I don't particularly like.
One of them must be very angry,
But he must find comfort knowing that his anger can be channeled through music.
The other one, though,
Her playlist was like
mine.
Sad songs for a sad person
About being broken, or lost.
About being able to see the future,
But not see yourself in it.
I think I understand now why it happened so quickly.
She's like me.

I was strolling down my suburban street
Wandering, pondering, enjoying the day,
When, as the pavement hit my feet,
A calming thought came my way.

It floated gently to me, riding on the wind,
And implanted itself in my buzzing brain.
I know, strangely I say this with a grin,
But if falls off my tongue like a gentle Autumn rain.

If things had gone like I planned, 3 months ago I'd be dead.
I would breathe no breath to fill my lungs.
Bear no thoughts to behold my head.
Live no longer to climb life's rungs.

I would be gone, like a whisper in the dark,
Absconding into the unknown oblivion waters of Lethe.
But instead, I flew; like a skylark,
and disengaged my rusty sword from rusty sheath.

I fought my way out from that blistering Hell,
And my cold, frosted skin welcomed the morning sun.
I heard, then, what I can only describe as a victory bell.
At that moment I knew that I had won.

I dug myself out of this deep, dank grave
And found myself smiling at the trees.
My ears perk while songbirds rave,
And I accepted against my flesh, the breeze.

I let your name roll off
My tongue,
One last time.
Like water, dripping down
A melting icicle;
That, and nothing more.

(CONTENT WARNING: NSFW)

Tonight he gave me a full body massage.
He massaged my back and my neck, worked his way down to my legs and told me to flip over.
I laid on my back, in just my underwear as he rubbed my legs.
He looked at me, with a sort of hunger in his eyes, and he said,
"You sure you want a full body massage?"
I said yes.
He started to rub me, in my most vulnerable area.
He kissed my neck, my cheek, my lips.
He kissed me from my lips to my chest to my pelvis.
And then he really kissed me.
He flicked his tongue up and down, and drove me insane with pleasure.
Then he started using his fingers.
I was seeing pure, absolute bliss.
Shaking and shuddering happily with every touch, squirming and moaning.
"Mmm, you like that, baby?" he asked.
Then it hit me, like an explosion of light.
The heat of relief and pleasure, complete relaxation and happiness.
Yes, I said. I pleaded that I needed him.
I wanted him so badly.
"I don't think you want me enough," he said, and I groaned, agonized by his tease.
I really ******* do, I said as I grabbed him and pulled him closer.
He took off his shirt and his boxers,
And pushed inside of me.
It was beautiful and hot, and it felt so good.
I was squirming.
I wanted it hard and fast, but he teased me slowly and gently.
He pulled my hair, he kissed me.
"Is this what you want?" He asked as he ****** deeper and harder.
I was mad with a need for him.
I growled, yes, please baby.
He went wild, then.
And when he finished, I saw that same light and felt that same relaxation.
We were a heap of flesh and sweat and wild love.
"I love you," he told me in a gentle tone, and he kissed my lips.
I love you too, I replied happily.

Once, when I was a teenager, I got drunk and high.
I was so crossfaded;
I saw the world in a Viper Room blurred haze.
I remember the people I was with.
My best friend, and some guys from school.
Everything was moving in slow motion,
frame
by frame
by frame.
I saw phantasms of my friends moving from one side of the room to the other,
their ethereal beings following behind them.
The high undulated every few minutes,
becoming so intense I could just see the waves forming before vanishing.
It was the middle of the night.
I had sat down on the couch next to the neighbor boy.
Touching was very intense.
The heat of his skin through his clothes
where our legs and elbows brushed flushed my cheeks amaranth.
I remember feeling euphoric,
perfectly content about where I was and what I was doing.
He laid his head on my shoulder,
falling out of the high like a wounded raven from the sky.
I was so warm.
I remember thinking I could stay on that couch,
letting this altered state of mind befall upon me in perpetuity.
Happy, forever.

What is in a name?
Broken beyond repair
Revealing what was under the surface
Again and again your fists struck like a bat to a ball
Not even acknowledging what you did
Denying that anything happened
Over the course of 2 years you let me believe you were good
Now I know the truth

You're nothing but an ***.

What is it like to be *****?

It's like waking up and having sleep paralysis.
You can't move your arms,
you can't move your legs.
You can hardly breathe and the whole time you're panicking.
Until you just accept that you can't change it.
You've tried shaking yourself awake
and getting your limbs to flail in an attempt to move yourself.
But nothing works.

It's like waking up with a target on your back
begging boys and men to call you a **** because you
"shouldn't have drank so much."
Is 2 beers and half a cup of whiskey "too much" to you?
Did you acknowledge the fact that it might have been spiked?
Nobody believes you because all the details weren't perfect,
and because you weren't the perfect victim.

Imagine saying no 3 times after he begs you
"please, baby, it'll just be in and out, really quick."
Imagine him getting frustrated with you,
shoving you down on your back
and taking off your pants.
Imagine how it feels when he goes inside of you.
It's like your soul is ripping out of you from the inside,
and the worst part is that you think you're in love with that human.
And because of that, you don't say anything.
You're in shock that he did it,
and he takes your silence as a compliment while he brags about how "tight" you are.

Now you're dating someone four years later.
He's a new guy, and respectable.
He's sweet and wouldn't harm you, that you know of.
You've decided not to tell him about the baggage you carry around
from being a **** victim because it always causes problems.
You've since gotten over the emotional damage for the most part.
But he's started to notice the way you flinch
when he touches certain areas of your body.
The way you get quiet when he doesn't understand why you're not in the mood,
because you're too scared to hurt his feelings.

The memories of what happened to you are always going to be there.
They will never leave.

July 23rd, Tuesday
dial tone ringing
Hello?
Hi there, how are you feeling?
I feel like I'm going to explode.
My mind wont stop racing.
My heart won't stop aching.
Mistakes that I'm making
Keep eating me alive.
Just take a deep breath, tell me why.
I'm a huge ******* joke.
Ask me why again and I'll choke.
My vision is clouded with smoke
and my fragile walls are breaking.
You're not a joke, all you need to do is breathe.
Once the air fills your lungs,
you'll be able to see--
See what? That karma is a *****?
That my lies make people's skin itch?
I know that I'm absolutely worthless.
I know, I know. I deserve this.
No! No, you're not worthless! You just need--
Click
Dial tone

-The Shriveled, Dead Spider.

All my feelings are gone.
No love.
No hate.
No anger.
No bitterness.
No happiness.
No hope.
It's all gone.

Laying down in bed
next to him.
Bare chest pressed against
my back.
He sighs in his sleep;
A soothing sound so
sweet.
I hold onto his thumb;
so comfortable in
my hand.
He's warm.

the memory of laying down in bed
next to him.
i can still feel his bare chest
pressed against my back.
i can still hear the sound of him
sighing in his sleep.
i can't get it out of my aching skull.
a horrid sound so
wretched.
i grip my hands tightly together
to comfort myself.
i'm cold.

The last one was my perfect prince.
The one I dreamed about so long ago.
His brown hair and brown eyes matched what I saw.
His stature and his features were precise.
I thought I met an angel,
but I met the devil himself instead.
Not only did this one hurt me
but he broke my trust.
The devil can be beautiful.
He can ring as honest as a bell
but drip lies like a poisoned dart.
This last one was a nightmare disguised as a dream.
He was a mix between the first two.
Sweet and handsome,
but violent and misleading.
Helpful and happy,
but hurtful and cowardly.
I loved him.
With everything that I had.
And he was just the ******* devil.

One was a boy with brown hair and
crystal clear green eyes.
I thought he loved me.
All he did was hurt me.
He defiled me, belittled me,
tore my confidence to shreds.
He wore a façade and played everyone he ever knew.
He was cruel.

One was sweet and kind and wonderful.
Blond hair, a straight nose,
and a pair of ocean eyes.
He treated me like a princess.
Like I was a priceless gem.
But I guess he couldn't handle the distance,
or maybe he was just an idiot.
But soon he started lying,
and our relationship started dying.
He lied and lied and lied
until my love for him finally died.
He was a coward.

But this last one... my, my, my this last one....

I guess I find I'm not surprised
That all your words were filled with lies.
I just thought that you were perfect;
All this time that I deserved it.

All this time I pined for you;
And you didn't even love me true.
I had to find out about you secondhand,
and the taste of your specific brand.

I thought it would be shocking
to hear that you were **** talking.
Anxious about feeling the fury,
but all it did was humor me.

I don't feel anything anymore.
Anger, sadness, rage, all out the door.
It's not because I'm cold hearted.
It's just that now my heart's departed.

Broken, ******, battle scars;
Clearly we're not in the stars.
I will never love again,
For fear that they'll all be the same.

I am Alice.
Today I woke up where the grass is greener
and the sky is bluer.
The sun shines brighter and illuminates
The shadows and the vile creatures within them.


Floating
                 Back through the sky like a cloud;
                 racing towards eternal life,
                
up
                 to the warm earth.
                 I try to see myself in
the
                 world we live in today.
                 I can see myself running towards it,
                 fast like a
rabbit
                 chasing after the scent of carrots.
                 Chasing after life outside of the rabbit

hole.

"All I do is work
Money money money
Getting hoes
Money money money
But i have no money
All i have is sadness"

Tuesday, July 16th

To my darling ex boyfriend, whom I thought was divine but instead was a divine joke:

It feels like ****** being shot through my addicted veins.
Like I'm on a high and I can't come down.
It feels like I'm flying above the clouds,
Through the stars and into extraterrestrial territory.

It's almost a sick feeling.
So good that I might just throw up from it.
I'm woozy and light headed but I can't help but smile
At the thought of your panic.

I've outed you.
Your secret is known to the public world now.
You've already lost at least one friend,
and now I wonder how you'll feel when you lose more.

You can call me petty if you want to;
cold-hearted, even.
But you should've known never sneak up on a Black Widow.
If you do,

It's clear that you'll be bitten.

-The Spider


07/16/19

I was on the phone with my best friend Blondie,
When she said some words that really shocked me.
She said, though I know she was joking,
"Maybe you need to stay away from people who make you feel like that,
Because it always ends horribly!"
I thought it was silly,
That she could only be kidding.
But then her words rang in my ears
Like bells doing bidding.
Love is supposed to come slow,
Over years and years should it grow.
Maybe this time it will be good.
This time I'll let love's flowers flourish slow
As it should.

What is love but the air we breathe?
What is love but the sun on our backs?
Is it love that drives us humans to be?
Is it love that keeps us on track?

Love is the color of the setting sun;
Blissfully orange, tomorrow's blooming begun.
Love is the taste of a bitter ***;
Down your throat does it's fire run.

Be it love that grieves us so?
Be it love that gives winter's sorrow?
It is love lost, I am told,
That makes the human heart grow cold.

What is love but the darkness of the night?
What is love but heartbreak's plight?
Love is just a waste of time
If I can no longer call you mine.

The last time i was home,
You wore a blanket of white snow.
You killed your leaves
And the willow trees weeped
For a summer heat from not long ago.
But I remember how your grass smells
In the autumn sun
Or after a warm summer rain.
And I remember how the clouds roll
And how the wind keeps me sane.
It was Christmas when i last came home
And the air was crisp and fresh.
Through whispy clouds the sun had shone,
And your chilly air had pierced my flesh.
But i was not cold standing on the frozen lake,
For i remember your humidity on hot beach days
When i would swim with the pike
Or fly with the gulls
And happiness engulfed my soul.
The last time i was home,
You wore a blanket of white snow.
Your winter beauty will remain permanently in my mind,
But I'll always remember you as a whole.
I don't plan on returning, dear Wisco.
Nothing against you;
I love you more than you know.
But now i think it's time for me to go.

It's because I loved you
that I feel like this right now.
Why I feel like gouging my own eyes out;
why I'm shaking anxiously at coffee rush with Kylar.
It's because I realized that I loved you
and you lied to me.
I was nothing if not honest with you about how I felt
and you lied to me.
You deceived me and the told me
I was the one lying.
I settle for the untruth these last 2 and a half months
just so I wouldn't cause you strife.
And now I'm finally angry and feeling
how I am supposed to feel.
You're a piece of ******* garbage.
A lazy dog lying on someone else's bed
mooching off of everyone around you.
I don't see you being an independent adult in the near future.
I hate you.

She's such an ***. She has no respect for anybody.*
It's okay. You can't blame her. I can't imagine the kind of hurt she feels right now.
They talk about me as if they know what I'm thinking.
What I'm feeling.
They have no idea my state of mind,
yet they act like they do.
It's amusing, and

That's the funny thing.
I feel no hurt.
I am perfectly happy.
But the fact that you lied to me,
and that you continue to be a **** to me
is why I don't care about you right now.
If you died right now
I would shrug and move on.
I do not care about you at all.

I think out of all the baristas at Coffee Rush,
Kenny is my favorite.
He banters with me playfully,
as he does with everyone.
But even when I am sad or under the weather,
Kenny is there to make me feel better.
With dumb jokes,
or a comforting you'll be okay. We got you.
Kenny is very wholesome
and wants nothing but the best for most people.
Kenny is good.
Be like Kenny.

Daydreaming all day thinking in future timing
and feeling happy
like a sailboat on a calm ocean
in Malibu, California.
Paying no regard to the rocky bottom;
it can't reach me all the way
on the smooth surface.
The May flowers are finally flowering
after April spent it's time showering
and March covered in snow.
I'm so hopeful.

Today my mind is filled with the smell of
the burnt oak tree on
cranberry road.
The earth around the tree has regrown it's grass
and the dirt no longer smells like
melted metal and plastic.
The air no longer smells like smoke,
yet all my nose smells is the aroma of
burnt flesh.
Of blood and seat leather.
The fire still burns my skin when I think about it.
There's an empty hole in my heart
that he left when he flew through the stars and back
over the moon.

Could it be--
I had seen him before
Engulfed in the blazed sun?
Atop a building
In the summer air with the wind
Blowing through his auburn hair,
Oh, what a dream!
A water colored blur--
Subtle and bright but detailed
By each individual brushstroke.
Oh, what a dream!
What an enchanting light!

How many more children have to die
before we stop believing the lie that
America is safe
and America is great
and that we all live under the rule of a really great guy?
Before all our children don't need to vie
just to survive
going to school and coming out again alive?
Before mental disorders stop being the
brunt end of a joke
and that maybe there might be hope
that those who suffer don't have to walk on a tightrope?
What about when we can start living in harmony?
When we stop judging others and
start shunning dishonorary
acts of violence
acts of hate
and acts of crime before it's to late?
How many more children have to die?
How many?
How many?
How many?
How many???

-Spider

When someone gets angry at you
for just being nice,
I wonder how bad they must truly be feeling.
I told him just a simple word of advice:
You shouldn't talk bad about people behind their backs. It's not good.
He got angry at me.
Hypocrite.
Liar.
Snake.
He raved about how I let someone talk crap about him
and said nothing.
Because I know that you're better than that.
Ben is a lost cause.
Why waste my breath on someone who wont hear?
He ranted again.
I wonder how bad he must truly be feeling.