I don't like stories
that end with questions.
I can't stop thinking about
it until I get some resolve,
I'll find questions
pestering the author
until my imagination is
no longer running wild.

You changed your name
from Mars to Athena.
And honestly you should
of changed it to Aphrodite.
Becuase it was so *******
easy to fall in love with you.
Someone might ask how Mars
was accurate for our relationship.
It's the roman god for War.
And there's a constant battle in my
mind over what could have been.
Tears running down my face
like the blood you have spilling
from my heart.
I don't know why I can't
forget you.
You don't want me.
I know you don't,
and it hurts as if I was
an orphaned child
and what my parents did wrong
was beat me.

I know that we'd be terrible
for each other.
We'd be so destructive.
but I can't eat.
The only problem is that,
now you can.
With me gone, you don't
have to deal with my
toxic air.
But I can't imagine
a perfect image
without my backbone
showing just to prove
that I actually have one.

I'm sorry I'm so cold.
I'm sorry that frostbite's
the only kisses I've left on your neck.
You give me butterflies,
but I am cellophane to you.
While I'm begging for your attention
for some ******* closure
you're silent.

But I can't stand stories that have
questions at the ending.
All you are is a *******
question mark.
Which is kind of funny,
because remember when we gave
ourselves tattoos?
You put a question mark on
the inside of your finger
and I didn't understand.
You are the opposite of closure.

I don't believe in ignoring an
opportunity because all that gets you
is remorse. It gets you pain.
Or at least that's what it got me.
But really, I don't think you care
anymore.
I've been abandoned before.

Athena works for your name too.
Your strategy for breaking my
heart worked so **** well.
You knew just how to
break it completely.
Have your ******* cliches
back, and all of the kisses.
All you've done is break my being.
"Don't take my words, they're
all I have left."
But you've done exactly that.
I'm speechless on what to do.

If you love something, let it go.
Right?
I'm letting go, baby.
Just like you wanted me to.

maybe in 10 years we'll bump into each other

we'll catch up on all the time we let run away

and how desperately in love I was with you

and we can laugh about how we broke eachothers hearts.

The English vice,
Some Etonian curse –
Set down in grass
And purple verse,

Lavatory bred
With ransacked blood,
Skin slapping and
With a falling thud –

Takes boys at childhood,
Wishes them away,
With promises of popper fuelled buffets,

And poisons them with
Vice and virus red,
And sees them unmarried
Giving head.

I don’t regret a single thing I am,
I’ve tried it out
And can’t abide the sham –

I’ll **** men
And make them beg for more,
I’ll scrabble for their love upon the floor,

I’ll love men
And love will love me too,
I’ll love for love’s own sake
And when I’m through

I’ll die and I’ll be thankful that your hate
Never made me beg that I was straight.

If I wasn't gay would people care?
Would they actually let me breath the same air?
Could I actually go to school,
without people being so cruel?
Could I live in a world with no hate?
Maybe people would love me if I was straight.
It's not as easy as people think.
I can't just go to a shrink.
I didn't choose to be this way.
You really think I'd want to be gay?
I don't want attention,
I don't want fame.
This isn't some sort of game.
I am who I am and thats okay.
Most people don't see it that way.
I only wish I could be the same.
To have a wedding and it not be shamed.
I want to have kids and not be judged.
I don't want my reputation smudged.
But apparently I'm different now.
Sick in the head somehow.
Therapy and shock treatment for something that can't be fixed.
How did I get put into this mix?
Toxic and tragic,
that's my life.  
It's like I was stabbed in the back with a knife.
I'm gay,
what's wrong with that?
I get treated like some rat.
Using your holy books and your religion.
To fight against something that makes no difference.
I want to be a human not a punching bag.
Always getting called a ***.
Let that word have power and it gets to you.
But that words as good as whatever is stuck to the bottom of my shoe.
I love being this way.
I don't care what you say.

The knot untied, I slipped down and my feet sat on the cold floor
It must have changed it's mind
It must have realized I had more to offer, more to say, less to suffer
I walked on the ocean floor, but the waves soon carried me ashore
They must have found my heart under the sand, thought I would be useful on this saddened land, still floating by in the great wind
I wanted to be gone, not beneath the ground but gone in between the trees, tucked under the eagles wings
The storm never quits the brawling with me
I am pushed, I am threatened, I am made never to let be, but some how always the nightmare lets me free