How a kiss feels
It is indescribable
And yet I can explain
It in detail
Soft Lips press
Against each other
As hearts pound
Sometimes it is
Soft filled with
Love and warmth
And others are
Forceful filled with
Lust and passion
Fingers tangle in
The other's hair
Arms are wrapped
Around necks and
Waists fingers lace
Together as warm
Tongues press against
Soft Lips begging
For entrance
Mouths open
Tongues battle for
Dominance as each
Persons heart hammers
In their chest
Fingers entangle themselves
In long and short hair
body
Heat grows strong
And stronger
Until eventually shirts
Are discarded bras
Are lifted and
Moans fill the
Room
Heat fills your
Body
As his touch
Sends a shiver
Down your spine
Your face flushes
A deep shade
Of berry red
As he nibbles
And ***** on
The sensitive flesh
Of your neck
Causing your world
To go blank
This is how
A kiss feels

Cough syrup
Red
Leaves you dead
Cherry
Filled with kodine
I leave a note filled with
Tears & love
This is not your fault i reapeat
Over And over
like a catchphrase
After I have written my last words
I sneak off into the darkened bathroom
The shadows in the corners
Amplyfiying my anxiety and the darkness in my head
The emptiness of my bed
After a moment of hesitation
I bring the bleach bottle to my lips
the mint smelling liquid burning away
the skin on my soft lips
I hold the liquid on my tongue
Oh how it burned
Oh how that first drink burned
I sip two more times
Two more times
The flesh of my tongue
Lips
And throat
Raw
I cough and gag
I walk back to my room
Deafeated
I am not dead
Suddenly as I sit in my lime chair
A red gleam catches my eye
Cough syrup prescribed to me
Months ago
Three teaspoons gone from it
I unscrew the cap
Guzzling down the vile liquid
The smell, and taste enough  to make me gag
I down half of the poison
Letting it purify my insides
I smile for the first time in days
Finally free from
Burdening all who care for me
I stand my body diminishing from the inside out
My once pink insides
Now dyed a ****** red and happy
Happy to be rotting
After a few agonizing hours of awaiting to  become a rotting corpse i stumble to my kitchen and examine my mom's set of knifes
Each one has sharpened teeth designed
To cut me open like a tender cut of meat
My eyes gleam in childlike wonder as I try to pick which one will slice my veins
I choose one like a kid choosing candy
Selective and critical
Finally i pick one and slide it quickly d across my wrists
I am shocked at how much blood comes pouring
From my wounds
But i quickly become addicted
Addicted to my blood
Addicted to the pain
Addicted to the thought of my death
After several cuts
I walk to bed to see if I can become a corpse in my bed
When i awake
I am dissapointed and relieved all at once
Relieved to be alive
Disappointed to be alive
Over the day my sticky red insides
Reject any nourishment
Expelling any of it through my mouth
My thoughts run a mile a minute
I find myself unable to focus on anything
My muscles feel ghostly cold
Meanwhile my skin is boiling hot
Once my mom comes home
Rushed to the hospital
Ordered not to fall asleep
in the rumbling car
But all my tired brain
And sticky red insides want
Is a permenant
Eternal
Happy
Sleep
But i was never given that sleep
That oh so sweet release
Water was washed through me to get rid of
The toxic red in my system
Now my insides are pink and truly happy again
Happy to not be rotting and decaying
Happy to be alive

I want to become art.
When the pit at the bottom of my stomach seems to grow
and all possibility for human interaction is fleeting
I dream of becoming the girl
That other girls wish to be
If only they wait long enough to raise a peach to their quivering lips
Weeping because they know their DNA
Will never be as perfect as my own
I want to become art I want my skeleton
Buldging boldly from my skin
To become some ones master piece
Their magnum opus
I want to be the Mona Lisa of the modern age
The bold brash beauty
I want to be the girl that smiles without it being forced
I want to be a gamer
I want the mirror to stop being agony
I want to be taller
I want to be smaller
I want to laugh quieter
I want my legs to work normally
I want to become art
I want to be plus sized
And I know so **** well it takes more
Than 21 days to break a habit
Because its been 48 and I'm still thinking of how much I ate
Last night
I felt pretty when I was hungry
Today I feel freaking beautiful because I
Am full
I am alive
I am me
I want to show the world I'm here
I'm big
And beautiful
I want to show
My starving sisters
That they need not starve
Anymore
I want to become art
A new form of art
A piece of art
That shows that you don't have
To be like that girl
Or that one
Or that one over there
You just need to be the most important thing of all
You
And that is the most beautiful thing of all.
A masterpiece
Stay strong
My starving sisters

Weight

Weight
Weight can be heavy
Or barely feel like lifting anything
Weight
Weight is the reason
Anorexic models are
Goddesses in the public
Eye as they strut with
Snapable ankles
Down the runway
Of life
I want to be these
Women
I want their protruding ribs
They're thigh gaps their
Everything
But as I sit
Gawking at the
Fat on my stomach
Face
Chest
And pretty much everywhere
I begin to wonder
Is it worth it
To be toothpick thin
To starve your body of
It's basic primal needs
To wake up only to skip
Breakfast
To ***** out
The sinful calories
To one day never
Wake up and leave
Your family alone
To wake up only
To obsess over
The number on the scale
I shake my head smiling at my reflection
Pulling my shirt down
And limping out of the bathroom
I would eat
Whenever I needed
Whenever I wanted
I have shattered the heavy
Iron chains
Of the goddesses that
Forced me to believe
That my weight
Determined my worth

Winter
Winter is joy
Winter is holiday cheer
Winter is cold
Winter is dark
Winter is stress
Winter is lovers
frolicking in the snow
forgetting their worries or cares
Winter is
Our world
Long ago
Summer
Autumn
And spring
Vanished
Gone without a trace they are gone
They are ghosts of the past
The warm comfort among the cold icy blanket of snow
That covers the earth
Winter has come
And there is no escape from it
Spring autumn and summer are the thoughts
That get us through the mundain activity of the
Scrape
Scrape
Scrape
Of our shovels against cement

this is a poem to my dad 

if you are reading this 

I'm sorry 

but 

in this poem  

I will just be typing my feelings 

and seeing what happens

seeing what monstrous words crawl out from the cracks of my crumbling

empty 

heart 

Fathers 

Fathers protect you 

Fathers raise you 

Fathers make you a good person 

they set a good example

and for the most part 

you've done that 

and I am extremely grateful 

but... 

the other half of our almost 18-year coexistence 

you've made me feel things 

bad things 

dark dark 

things 

and thoughts

dad, I love you 

but I can tell 

that you do not feel the same

about me 

sure you might have raised me 

and dealt with the monsters under the bed

in the closet 

in my head 

but for the past 18 years 

I have felt a burning bright red rage and hatred 

cutting my heart in two 

and I could never pinpoint why or how it started 

maybe it is my mere existence that triggers this 

maybe you're finally realizing I am a machine that you can't fix 

so you yell at me for not fixing myself even though I don't know how or what's broken, to begin with 

perhaps 

it's my smile 

my eyes 

my heart 

my mind 

I do not know 

maybe you hate me because I ruined your wife's life 

with my existence 

my personality 

whatever it is 

I don't know

but I just know you hate me 

dad 

you make me feel as though 

I. am. nothing 

and if you make ME feel that way 

I can only imagine how my mother feels 

having been married to you all this time

you make me feel ugly 

I don't know why maybe 

that's just me being me 

broken 

and damaged 

you make me feel sad 

when you say 'don't expect me too' 

it makes me feel betrayed in a way

you make me feel angry 

by the way, you treat my mother at times 

my mom is a saint for dealing with you 

she deals with your ice cold heart 

your anger 

your screaming that I can hear over my Hamilton blaring from my headphones 

that I have blasting to block out the noises of the angry voices of the people that once put me to sleep

you make me feel inadequate 

whenever I can't meet your increasingly high standards 

whenever you ask about my math grades 

and you focus on my math and nothing else

y'know dad I took a marine biology course 

and passed it 

just so I could 

FINALLY 

earn just the tiniest amount of respect from you 

but

I didn't 

my grade was too low

too low 

they're always too low

and they're never good enough 

for you 

and your standards 

I don't think I'll ever be able to meet those standards 

imagine this 

I am a world class gymnast 

or in a p.e. class 

without my physical limitations of course

and I have to do  a pull up 

I jump up to grab the shining pole 

the praise 

the admiration 

the respect 

but I miss and fall back to the ground 

failure 

but that doesn't stop me from trying again 

I jump again this time the bar is etched with geometric equations   and it's higher 

my hands grasp it for a minute and then quickly 

let go once again

another fail

I try 

and try 

and try 

but no matter how high I jump up 

I always fall 

always fail 

to others, I'm doing great

they're so proud 

proud of me 

but not you 

no matter what I do

nothing is good enough for you 

dad, I hope these words 

finally, drill through your thick skull 

but I know they won't   

nothing ever will 

I'm just being optimistic

dad

why am I writing this? 

you ask 

well I'll tell you why dad 

I was talking to my boyfriend 

as the sun laid down and rested it's tired head painting the sky orange and pink waiting for the night shift 

and he was attempting to help me get my mic to not be quiet 

and I felt rage bubbling over the surface like a hot soup 

and I yelled 

hung up 

and sobbed 

I called back a few seconds a few minutes later 

apologizing profusely 

I realized dad 

that I started to sound like you 

screaming 

angry 

frustrated and I also realized 

I NEVER want to make someone feel the way you make me feel ever!

when I finally move out of the little nest of love 

drama 

family 

and happiness you and mom built 

I don't know if I will want to associate all that much 

not with you anyway

sure

if MOM invites me 

to a party 

to a dinner 

I will go and talk to you as little as possible 

  and I know one child has done that before 

and I know it hurts 

but you have made me feel this way for nearly 18 years 

and you can't just recover instantly from that kind of ****

now YOU must try and grasp the high bar to try and regain my trust

goodbye dear readers 

goodbye dad I hope you finally get it 

love your daughter

A/N: This poem probably makes no sense but after listening to a few Blythe Baird poems I felt inspired to write something like this.



The life of a woman can be challenging
The life of a woman can be an uphill  battle that sometimes we just do not want to fight
Women can be born in hospitals
They can also be born trapped in masculine jail cells
Some people say that sexism is dead
But then they remind us to always carry pepper spray in the same breath
And I begin to wonder if being a woman is a curse or a blessing
Surely things had to improve by now
We are not in the twenties after all
But dread settles in the pit of my stomach like stones at the bottom of a river
When I remember reading that we had to invent nail polish that changed color in drugged drinks
Lipstick shaped mace
Develop apps to walk us home
And underwear designed to prevent assault
I wish I could go back
Back to a time before womanhood hit me like a truck
Back to a time before *******
And periods
Before I knew about all the sharp corners of the world
I often think of if I want to change the world
I do
And I do not
Somedays I want to write acceptance into existence
Some days I just want to hide from the weight of responsibility
Crushing me like a ton of bricks
I shudder as I remember the nights a man twisted my will by calling me, baby
Talking me out of conversations I knew I should have brought up sooner
I want people to see women as people
Most importantly men
We are not your  playthings
We are not objects you can twist and mold to your desires
We are not a piece of candy for your eyes
I want everyone to realize these things
But I will try and coat my words in sugar
I will try to make these words easy to hear
Easy to read
I will try and soften the impact of reality
I will try and make these words
This poem easy to swallow
Like a microscopic pill
I will try and make reading this easier than it is for us women to live

I stride to the podium tears streak from my sapphire eyes mascara spotted the skirt of my angelic white dress
I take a trembling breathe it seems as though the world falls silent
In that moment waiting for each sweet succulent word to fall from my lips
I clear my throats my trembling voice filling the room
“I would just like to say a few words” I admit scrolling through my phone where my speech was
I take another shaky breath “one on one communication is dead! We
all know that it is dead because we let our phones computers iPads etc etc run our lives control us like marionettes tugging at our strings we want technology to remember birthdays for us we want it to wake us up we relinquished all control to the technology and the marketing companies behind them I look at this great big world I live in and I wonder what happened to the sweet gesture of a handwritten note?” I chuckle grimly “I do not believe that human to human contact will ever be brought back from the dead but mayhaps it can it doesn't need to be like this we can have control again” I throw my phone to the red carpet stepping on the screen “may human contact rise from its dead state!” I exclaim walking off into the dead of night awaiting for the people of the world to make their decision

A/n; the prompt for this was write  a eulogy about an abstract concept that you believe is dead and I wrote this it is aweful

Vision is the art of seeing the invisible
Seeing beyond the pounds of makeup
I smear the goops and snake oils
Onto my face hiding my true self
So I can morph and mold myself
Into whatever ******* society wants me
To be I have an ich I can't
Satisfy because that would
Ruin the hour of miticulous painting
And perfecting I had just
Done to my horrifically
Ugly face
Vision is the art of seeing the invisible
Like when I lock myself in a bathroom
And repent for the caloric sin I
Committed that day
Until both my heart and stomach are empty
Vision is the art of seeing the invisible
Like my invisible tears that I hide in
My heart at the fear of seeming
Insane weak or afraid
Vision is the art of seeing the invisible
Like seeing past the phrase “I'm fine’’
That I seem to repeat over and over
Until it becomes my signature greeting
Vision is the art of seeing the invisible
Like when I glue on a smile for those that
Love me

Authors note; a different interpretation by ”In Just” by ee Cummings

The balloon man 

He brings rainbow colored rubber 

Larger than the sun 

He limps up and down the sidewalk all day 

Waiting for children to come and play 

He always goes home at night 

Much to parents’ delight 

He dresses up all in black robes 

Covering him in a cloud of ash-colored mist 

Children see him and run to him 

Grasping the string of his balloons 

The tiredness leave their eyes 

Their skin once a glowing tan 

Turns to milk their eyes lifeless 

Their bodies collapse to the grass 

The balloon man leans down closing 

The eyes of children near and far 

”may you sleep now in peace little one... Forever” he whispers solemnly 

He disappears riding away on the dark rain clouds filled with gallons of 

the tears of mourning parents.

When I was a girl
Around eight years old
My parents used to take me to ice cream
Every weekend
That bell above the store door would chime
Happy to see another paying customer
Even when the snow outside howled like ghosts
That bell above the store door would chime.
And every weekend I would limp into the store
With all the excitement I could muster
And I always felt like I was being  
carried away
Into a mythical world made of frozen sugar
The perfume of waffle cones, chocolate, coffee, and vanilla
Mixed and melted into a tornado of deliciousness
That swirled around my tiny body.
But my joy would shatter like a mirror
When my mom would demand that I choose
Between chocolate and vanilla
And I couldn't for the life of me
Understand why
How could I choose?
Why did I have to choose?
Could I not have both?
Could I not have the rich deep taste of chocolate and brownie chunks
Alongside the calming smell and gentle flavor of vanilla?
Ultimately I couldn't
I was eight
Had no authority
And my mom was paying
So I always chose chocolate
Different but still safe
Still normal.
This dilemma of choice always seemed to follow me as I aged growing into a bigger beast
With each year
With each decision
It clung to my shadow
Always reared it's ugly head when I just needed it to go away for a second and let me think
Let me breathe.
Throughout elementary school
I struggled to choose between
Transformers
Or princesses
I again couldn't fathom why I couldn't choose both
Why I couldn't be both.
Why couldn't I enjoy explosive white noise
And women with pretty dresses who sang songs and had animal sidekicks?
I didn't want to choose
I again wanted both
But of course, I couldn't
Because of the fact I was destined to grow ******* in the future
I chose princesses
Pink
Pretty
Normal
Safe.
In my freshman year of high school, I yet again had to choose
Boys?
Or girls?
I felt the weight of each choice weigh on me like bricks
The pressure of the gossip and venomous whispers I could encounter
Crushing me like I was at the bottom of the sea
Could I not have the
Strength
of a man
And the soft comfort of a fellow female
I couldn't choose
I just couldn't
So I forced myself to be straight as a pole
Steady and unwavering
I wouldn't accept that I was a pole that swayed in the wind
Going back and forth like a pendulum
I wanted both
Her soft touch
His strong chest
Her honey-sweet voice
His rough kiss
Her perfume
His cologne
Her
Him
Her
Him
My mind kept swinging back and forth endlessly
I couldn't handle it
I couldn't stand the fact that I swayed back and forth so easily
I always decided
I always was as normal as I could manage
Why now?
Why this?
Why was this the thing that shattered me like glass?
I ran
I'm ashamed of myself for it
But I ran from this problem
This choice
The beast had grown too large for me to handle.
I quarantined my emotions like they were each a deadly disease
And I became numb
Empty
Cold
A blank canvas that I refused to label
So the beasts prowling in my head did it for me.
Emo
Trash
Useless
Disgusting
Spaz
*******
Freak
Lazy
Fat
Unlovable
Stupid
And many more.
But today
I fight my beasts head on
And sure I may not have a blade
But I am fighting with all I can
I fight with my tongue and teeth
Because they're all I have left.
Today  
I sculpt a new ice cream shop
I walk up to the door slowly
My heart pounding loudly in my ears like a drum
After a moment I enter
Leaving my beasts outside at the door
The bell above the door chimes
Happy to see me after all these years of emptiness
This is my ice cream shop
My safe space
And this time
I can
And will
Have it all
Chocolate swirled alongside vanilla
A princess driving a transformer.
And I shall love men and woman
Because my heart yearns for both
Life is too short for me to let beasts run my mind anyway.

A/n: a poem about the last day of my junior year
So... It happened on the last day of school
Me and my mom were going to Starbucks before school.
I was so excited to drink coffee and say my summer good-byes
Then my excitement came crashing down
And I was given a nice fat serving of sadness
My mom first lectured to me about not getting in the car when it was locked.
Then when I get in the car she continues to yell.
Yell
Yell
Yell
That's all she seems to do anymore
Then she yells about how I care for nothing not even myself and my appearance
she then said and I quote
"Well, it's about time someone told you, you look like a homeless person, and you smell even worse than one!"
We get our coffee in
Cold
Isolating
Crushing
Depressing silence.
When ILT rolled around I threw my lunch away went to the bathroom sat in the corner of a stall and cried...
I don't know why
, I cried it's just that having your mother... Basically, call you ugly...
Something you believed since you turned 13... It... It just broke my heart...
And shattered what little confidence I had left ...
And I desperately try to pick up the tiny fragments
Of my self-esteem
And each day that passes
Seems just a bit brighter as another shard fits into place
But then one venomous word or thought
Sends the pieces back to the floor
Poisoning my mind until I'm back where I belong
In the corner my eyes leaking tiny raindrops
Well..
I'm sorry mom
but It's so ******* hard to care
when you've had the confidence, and joy emotionally beaten out of you
by people you thought cared
people you talk to
people you thought  were supposed to protect you, but no!
All they do is drag you down into the depths of your own self-loathing
I've lost all ability to care about **** like hygiene and personal appearanc
especially  when the joy in looking my best has been ****** out of me like a juice box...
So I watch anime and game desperately hoping to feel happiness again
but all I feel is emptiness and self hatred...
I try
And try
And try
To care about myself
But my happy caring self
Is in heavy iron chains
Of self hatred
And a new chain is added
With each
Venomous
Angry
Statement that echoes in my hollow head
So I just want to say
I'm F.I.N.E
Fearful
Insecure
Nervous
Emotional
Someday I hope I can be truly fine
Not F.I.N.E

Teachers

Teachers can sometimes
Shape and mold us
Into who we are today
As if out minds
were made of clay
And they are
Regarded in your mind
As a fond memory
Memories as
Warm and inviting
As a field of golden
Daisy’s on
A glorious sun
Filled day
But other times
They want to assimilate
Us to do it their way
Till we just stare at them
Awaiting instructions
Like dogs on a leash
And obedient dogs
We shall be following
Their instructions to the letter
Cringing and stressing if we
Do anything wrong so
We spend hours of our
weeks
months
And years  in cages
Disguised as labs for lunchtime
We want the good grade at all costs
To appear as a good dog in their eyes
But there is always
This disobedient dogs whom lash out at any time
Throwing away their homework
And barking when they are not
Supposed to disrupting
The teacher and his or
Her other
More
Obedient
Dogs

There is no such thing as a free poem
At least Not in these long teenage years filled to the brim with  
academic oppression
Teachers burrow into a poem searching for a deeper meaning forcing students into the depths with them
When in reality no deeper meaning needs to be found
The deeper meaning should be left where it belongs under the surface of the authors metaphors similies and other literary devices
The first thing we learn to enjoy in our youth is poetry such as nursery rhymes
What once caused giggles and restful nights of dream filled slumber  
Now only cause groaning and moaning as they have become tedious and mundane filled with hatred from students
Some teachers love poetry as if they are their lovers
dragging out the unit as long as they can
Much to the protest of the students
Others hate even the very thought of poetry
and even reading
So they nip the poetry unit
In the bud
Making it short
As possible

Who could ever love a girl, who wears her sadness on her face like makeup?
Who could ever touch a girl, with scars all over her wrists
When you want to make love, you might be turned off at the unattractive scars that are scattered across her body.
Who could ever sleep with a girl, who has nightmares of her demons eating her alive?
Who could possibly ever love a girl who once every few week
Sits in a stuffy cage with a specialist trained to eat away at her brain piling her tired mind With questions?
Who could touch a girl who’s stomach rolls like two hills to the point where just looking at them makes her
And you
*****?
Who could cuddle a girl who will just use your chest as a prison for her tears?
Soaking the fabric of your clothes in her sadness till you both drown?
Who could ever, run their fingers through a rats nest of blonde hair?
Who could ever bring themselves to love someone like this?
Who could anyone bring themselves to love me?

My grocery list of confidence shrinkers
1. You'll get better
2. Just smile
3. Please eat
4. Force a laugh
5. You are a failure
6. You'll never be pretty
7. You'll never be good
8. You only wish you had her body
9. You ate too much today
10. You shouldn't eat today
11. You should at least try and give a crap about your looks
12. Put on more makeup
13. You must be perfect
14. You are way to big to fit societies expectations
15. Your ugly without makeup
16. Anime is just for kids
17. You don't deserve your amazing boyfriend and friends.
18. Anime is dumb
19. Your music is weird
20. Your singing *****
21. Your writing is atrocious
22. Your walker makes you a freak among normal legged people

Bullies
They are everywhere
Sometimes .in the
Open sometimes in
The shadows spreading
Their hate and evil
Like a plague however
The worst kind of
Bullying is the bullying
That you do to yourself
You stare at your hideous
Features as the popular
Kids throw judging tomatoes
And heads of lettuce at
You're insecure little head
And heaven knows you can't
Fight back because these popular
Kids are the royalty of the school
And whatever they say goes
So you bow your head in respect
And bury yourself in your school, work
Possibly the only thing to bring you joy
The teacher's radiant smiles and praise allowing
A golden sun like beam of joy to fill your mind filling it with a golden meadow of daisies
But it is not popular to be smart
They shall call you oh so many toxic things
Egghead
**** up
Brainiac
Human calculator
And whatever
Oh so wondrous venomous things
That will poison
And ruin the once
Golden field of happiness
However, you stay silent
And continue to
Conform to whatever
They want you to be
To the point
Where when you
Take off the
Copious amounts of
Makeup you can
Hardly stand to
Look at your
Face and all
It's flaws and
Cry in hatred
And sadness
Loathing your looks
More and more with each
Mask of makeup you wipe
Away

Country
Country music
Grates on my ears
Making my heart hammer in absolute hatred
Country makes me long to go back to the velvety
Comfort of grand broadway musicals about a
Founding father long gone to go back to the incoherent mumbling  of Ariana grande
Country music blares from my parents radio in the cramped car
Awe drive for the required weekend beach trip
Filled with panting dogs and my agitated self so I put on my headphones
And blast my musicals at full volume to drown out the devils music
And the hateful hammering of my heart turns to a slow joyful thump
Until my headphones battery breaths it’s last breath turning them off until I can locate a charger
And I am once again left with that oh so hated country the devils music

You don't love
Someone because they
Are perfect you
Love them in
Spite of the fact
They're not despite
What the media
Of today seems
To think perfection
Is unattractive I
Want the imperfect
Things like a
Crooked tooth
An uneven grin
Makes you that
Much more desirable
At least to
Me but no
You live your
Life pretending you are
Ugly the ****
Of the earth
So you skip meals
And bury your
Face to make up
Just to appease
To whatever society
Deems as beautiful
But let me just say
Society is garbage
Don't trust the people
With photoshop and
A marketing team behind them
Do not give into their sugary
Sweet whispers of perfection
For you have no need for them
Because you are perfectly imperfect
And maybe just maybe one-day society
Will wake up and realize that being imperfect
Is perfectly acceptable
I do not want perfection I just want you

Prompt: The word is racism.  Freewrite.

Racism
Racism is over here
It’s over there
It’s all around
Us it’s in the air
It’s amplified by
The hateful orange
Man In a house of
Pure white he builds
A huge wall in absolute
Delight he will kick out every Muslim
Asian
Mexican
And whatever else
  America shall become
The next Berlin
Separating us from the
Differing cultures of the world
Isolating ourselfs until we are


A cracking crumbling economy
As a wise man known only as
philosopher George Santayana,
Said 'Those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it.'
And I suppose America has learned absolutely nothing
In its lifespanracd
We were ignorant
Of the culture feelings
And human worth of the
First African Americans
In the earliest days of our history
And we have learned nothing to this dayr

Expectations
They can be
High as the
Clouds above
Or they can be as low
As the center of the earth
And my expectations
For myself is as high
As you can get
I want to be thin
I want the tights as thin as wrists
I want a protruding rib cage
I want to be beautiful
I want to conform and morph
To society’s expectations of
What I am supposed
To be
And
What I can do
I want to be Like the other girls
In my high school
Their hair
Shiny shimmering
And gorgeous
Other girls
Trap men’s eyes
In their thin bodies
Their walk full of purpose
And life while my
Obvious limp
Is awkward
Other girls with
Their teeth
As white  as a pure pearl
And their bodies as
Thin as sticks
And their clothes
As glamorous as a
Goddess
If I were to have
Any prayer
In my life granted
It would be to
Be
Like
Other
Girls
If only for
One day
In my life

I could never live
Without my sight
Sight is a beautiful thing
That more often than not is
Taken for granted
At least in my opinion
There is so much beauty
In the world that I couldn't
Bear to never see again
Like a valentines day rose
Sitting idly in a vase the fragrance of it bringing forth
Happy memories
Or the loving brown eyes
Of my boyfriend his gaze
Sets my heart ablaze
Or the silent snow slowly
Falling against your window
Back in the harsh cold north
As you curl up watching anime
Or the wide smile of your best friend
Her smile  unbroken despite the fact
Her back most definitely is
Or the yellow yolks of eggs.
The sight of them lets me know
I shall not go hungry for another day
Or the gray of an angry rain cloud
Hanging above my head the anger angst anguish and sadness
In them
These are just a few of the seemingly endless reasons
I couldn't live without my sight

Heaven or hell
They are the places
That people go
When they are
No longer in
The mortal world
One is a utopian
Paradise atop the clouds
where
women wear
Angelic white
Robes their
Beauty knows
No Bounds
Men wear
crispy
Clean suits
Looking
Proper and uptight
As they walk along the
Clouded street
With no worries
Or cares
The other realm
Of immortality
Is hell
A raging inferno
The mournful painful
Cries of lost souls
Run through the vast
Emptiness for eternity
Men and women alike
Are consumed by the
Flame forever repenting
For their sins never missed
Never mourned
Because when the
Villains fall the kingdoms
Never weep
No one lays a candle to remember
No one mourns at all when they
Lay them to rest
Heaven is where the brave
Loved
And pure
Rest in a blissful immortality
Hell is the place
Where lost souls
Float in agony
Regret and pain
Until the end of time
Forever regarded
as ****
Of the mortal
World

"I'm here for you"

"your never alone"

******* ******* when my self hatred falls from my arm in tiny red raindrops, when these feelings of hopelessness have pinned me on to my bed forcing me to dream that my life was as perfect as I wish it was I am alone. When Satan's lulling me into the sugary sweet sleep of death I am alone. when the bullet explodes upon my skull, when the chair falls as my aching heart, and burning lungs collapse I am alone.

My silence
My silence
Is my confidence
I scroll through my photos
Idolizing the Anorexic women within them
But I do not idolize what matter
Personality
Relatibility
Oh no I idolize their bones bulging from their skin
I pinch poke and gawk at the fat skin on my arms
Face
And stomach
My repulsion grows
Until I am either
In the corner crying
Or repenting for the caloric sin I
Committed earlier in the day
I made a tumblr just to look at
Protruding ribcages
Bones bulging from Loose
Skin
To me bones are beautiful
Thin us beautiful
I strive to be these women
My confidence shrinking
And shrinking and shrinking still
So I do guilt fueled push-ups in the
Pale four am moonlight
I feel guilty when I eat too much
“What's wrong with you how could you eat all that!?”
And when I eat too little
“How could you let it get this bad!?’
I can not think of a more
Sadistic
Selective
Suicide
My silence
Is my
Confidence
Or…
Lack there of