Jimmy learned that gay was bad,
unnatural, the pastor said,
his friends were all about girls,
so Jimmy played along.
At some point in high school
Jimmy realized
a very hidden desire of his,
he liked a guy.
Jimmy was desperate,
how could it be?
He had been with girls,
never with guys,
but how would he know?
He never tried!
He kept the secret to himself,
a shameful burden of his own,
until one day Jimmy boy came across a term: BI.

Two rocking chairs on a front porch,
they watch the sunset,
lips curled up on perm smiles,
satisfied solely in each other.
Shots fired in the distance,
police cars and ambulances,
screams and loud pleads,
their vibe won't change.

You're written and rewritten in my mind,
I remove bits, add parts,
you might not have The Bluest Eyes in Texas,
but you're haunting me tonight.

Some places hold grudges,
they incorporate agony into their walls,
blood stains embedded on the floor,
stories felt even before they're told.

When I was 10 or so I had a nightmare,
one that stuck with me for this long.
I didn't think much of it back then,
but now I don't want to ignore.

I was playing outside with a friend,
a few feet away I noticed a figure,
a guy, a teenager, no doubt
the more I looked, the more I found.

The guy standing there was me, but older,
staring motionless at my younger self,
with a tired expression on his face,
horror movie ****** style.

As a happy child I thought nothing of it,
made some jokes and that was the end.
As a depressed teen, though, I grew up to see
that exact expression on my face a lot.

I like loud music, it blocks out the world,
well played melodies or metal screams,
something to give me nightmares or sweet dreams,
sounds to muffle the voices out here. So loud!

I listen to deafening music at max volume
because people won't keep their mouths shut,
and I hope they see the obvious sign
that I'm not interested in their words.

But hear me out, neighbor that's for you,
I use earbuds or my headset,
I don't bother people so there's that.
I'm trying to work and you're an a...

There was a time when I needed a good head upon my shoulders,
I needed to make a difficult decision,
one that would change my life forever.

I needed a councillor, I needed advice,
at that one time, alone, I chose the wrong path,
I chose blindly, and for that I still pay the price.

If only at that one time, I knew what was at stake
I would've screamed louder, I would've cried harder
for what I lost that day.

I lost years of existence, not moving an inch forward,
now I weep for what I am and for what I could've been,
if only I had seen what was so obvious for the rest.

Passionate, bloodthirsty... Oh, so mean!
Meaner than the meanest high school bullies you've seen.
A particularly evil mindset, to a certain degree...
Because I don't hurt with punches, I hurt with words.
How can this be?

A blow in the right spot can make one faint,
a line in the right place can put one to shame.
From a blow they can recover just fine,
but from shame? Trust me, that takes waay more time.

If everyone around me read what I write,
they'd understand, at least a little, what tore me apart.
The people would feel what I felt and I'd laugh
as they bathed themselves with tears. Such delight!

Good morning, my dears,
miladies and sirs,
good morning, brothers and sisters,
saints, sinners, you all.
Have a nice day at work, school,
wherever you go,
have a wonderful evening,
afternoon, night and noon.

Looking at myself from another perspective
I realize in other times I'd have been lobotomized,
before that I'd have been burned as a witch,
even before I'd have been crucified.
So I'd never say I was born in the wrong generation,
since today's the time for change and I can do my thing,
not that "regular" people don't reject me and call me crazy,
but at least I kind of have the right to be me.

They say you should learn from older people
but if there's a lesson I learned in life
it's that an ancient can be the most ignorant
and a teen can be the one who's wise.

A huge box full of nothing
sells more than a small box
full of everything.
Your thoughts aren't your thoughts
until you've learned what they mean.
Small boxes full of nothing
will be endlessly more sold
in a place where everybody
has no box at all.

The obscure, the unknown
gives me a chance,
while the real world
denies me the right to exist.
Reality tries to pull my strings,
but it's never just me
they have to face.
I have a hundred soldiers
in the body of one,
and among a thousand "myselves"
is where I belong.

That's not too late to call me, in case you can't tell,
it's never too late for me, you're taking me for someone else.
It's never too late to text me, I never sleep anyway,
if I take too long to reply, perhaps I haven't seen,
or I have nothing to say.

You can always see me as you will and want,
but you can't make your wishes come true.
I'm an undistinguished shadow in your house,
sometimes I'm on your bed, just passing through.

There's this feeling I can't define, I feel it everytime
you and I are in the same room,
as if time has stopped and there's only us
sitting by the window on a rainy afternoon.

I feel like a king, I wanna be set free but I can't resign,
the risks are high, my feelings are strong, I'm by your side.
Even when I seem to be very far away from you
trust me I'm always there and you should know.

When I grab my laptop and start working on all those words
you think I'm drifting away from you and that's unfair.
How I wish I could have any quality time alone
without having to constantly force you out of my mind.