I fiddle around with the truth in my hands
trying to mold it into a shape I can stand
(that isn't age 7 when I didn't understand)

I look up and say with a pensive sigh,
"I've never made love to anyone,"
because that is no lie

but I promise myself, there is hope for a body profane as mine
a ****** I will be! and I'll make love for the first time-

to a lover, to a tender hand,
to another boy and not a man

in the queen-sized bed, on the soft white sheets
intertwined and in love, our bodies will meet

Gunfire rattled through the tranquillity, shattering like the bones he trod on to get this far

He laughed a little, because he heard them squeak and squawk when he stamped their life away

He pumps the shells out of his rifle, seeking any pray that is unlucky enough to find him

He quiets down, and sneaks on the brown autumn leaves while they crunch

He finds what he's looking for, he sees her stand tall and proud and happy

He readies his gun, steadily aiming at her

Her skin is a rough brown and her orange hair is falling out, and covers the floor like a carpet

He laughs a little while he pulls the trigger, sending a few bullets into her thick skin

Her bark breaks and there's a hole, the bullet is stuck inside of her

And he chuckles while inspecting what he's done, and he thinks "wow, I did this."

The tree is still standing, and she always will be

But the gunman, he now knows what he can do

and she will never be able to stop him from that

the gunman walks away with a cocky smile, whistling a tune

The tree simply stands, and grieves for his future crimes

HE'LL TRIP YOU UP AND YOU'LL FALL DOWN THE STAIRCASE AND WHEN YOU REACH THE BOTTOM HE'LL HUG YOU AND KISS YOUR BRUISES AND CALL AN AMBULANCE FOR YOU AND PRETEND THAT HURTING YOU WAS NEVER HIS INTENTION BUT IT'S HARD TO BELIEVE THAT WHEN HE HAS DONE THIS SO MANY TIMES BEFORE

I was shaking
staring at the damp cracked ground, avoiding your eyes at all costs

The weight of my thoughts pushing me over and making me hunch

I said a lot of dumbed down things that I didn't really mean
because I didn't think you would understand
or care, really

I did everything I could to keep you as far away as possible

"I'm just.. a tired person. Complex. I have a lot of things going on, yeah."

"Can you tell me about it?"

It kind of caught me off guard, most people don't try that hard to know me

"There's not much to me."
Simple, something I assumed you'd take at face value

"I want to know you.
Everything about you."

It scared me, like you were trying to hurt me or like you were trying to get some kind of twisted confession from me

I pushed those thoughts aside, because you aren't like that

With a slight chuckle I asked,
"Why on Earth would you want to know that?"

"Because I like you,"

I tried to avoid your face still,
But I couldn't help it

You must have had me under a trance

Every time you spoke my distance dissolved

"You okay?"

You smiled in the way that you do

I was smiling too

Then you took my hand

And for once in my life

There was no distance

I fought against this life as hard as a scared child could and it still didn't work
I tried my hardest to be truly alive but I was too weak
I have no choice in being this way

you threw your life away because you couldn't be bothered to live it

WHEN THE NIGHTS ARE LONG AND DARK AND THE GHOSTS COME FOR YOU

WHEN THE PEOPLE OF THIS WORLD ARE CRUEL AND UNJUST
GIVING YOU BRUISES AND ****** NOSES

WHEN YOU ARE RUNNING DOWN AN EMPTY PARKING LOT
CHASED BY A HOODED MAN WITH A KNIFE

GIVE THEM A GREAT BIG HUG!

BECAUSE LOVE AND COMPASSION
WILL MAKE ALL YOUR PROBLEMS GO AWAY!

I can't believe you said all that

it's funny how you think you feel anything at all

you are nothing you say you are

you are not angry, you are not sad,

you are not even hollow

you're just so

you

and that's not a good thing

IF YOU THINK YOU CAN FIND BETTER
BY ALL MEANS YOU CAN LEAVE

WHY DO YOU STAY WHEN YOU SEEM TO FIND OTHERS THAT CAN FUFILL YOU BETTER THAN I CAN?

IT MAKES ME UNEASY TO REALISE I AM JUST LIKE YOU
AND THE WAY I CAN'T SEPERATE YOUR FACE FROM MY OWN MAKES ME AFRAID THAT ONE DAY
I'LL TURN ON THE NEWS AND SEE MYSELF IN THE PLACE OF YOU
AND I'LL SEE MY FACE CAPTIONED WITH THE SAME WORDS

"KILLER ON THE LOOSE"

IF IT IS DEAD
BURY IT

I DON'T CARE TO SEE YOU
PARADING CORPSES AT COCKTAIL PARTIES

AS IF THESE GOOD TIMES ARE STILL ALIVE

I live vicariously through artists more talented than me

I steal their words, their look, their fashion

Their trends and their beliefs and their lives

Because I hate myself and my art
I hate my look and my fashion
I hate my trends and beliefs

And I hate my life!

So I've found it much more preferable to be a shadow of a great

Than the shape of something small and pathetic yet original

There isn't a creative bone in my body

I just replicate things that are better than me

don't try to tempt me out of bed with the promise of your body

your skin could never be as soft as my sheets

don't ever touch me, got that?

my body belongs in my room
in my bed

don't talk to me

don't even think about me

you all have filthy minds

don't taint me with your worry

I don't need you

all I need is my bed

I've lost my way with words recently, you know that
I mean, I stutter like a nervous wreck and the things I say are pretentious as all hell
but even so
you make me want to write something sweet and sincere
you make me want to shout ****** ******- my heart is beating so fast!
you make me want to laugh so hard we fall in the mud and even though we're filthy we keep on laughing like the morons we are
I want to be still for you, no more fits and no more tremors
but most of all?
I want to kiss you
and enjoy the simple pleasures of being two teenagers in love

the dreams where we talk,
just talk, are much worse than in
the ones you **** me

When I was younger
I loved the world
I saw no suffering
Pain is a distant myth
Bees fly high in their way
Birds singing their cheerful melody
Cats and dogs played chase till sun's end

That was a wonderful time

And what did you do to it?

"Stupid boy, that's not right"
Your words were foreign to me
I have not heard them
I tilt my head and ask you
"what?"

"Dumb boy, you have an attitude"
These words again
No definition in my mind
I ask you again
What do you intend with these words?

"Your mother has done wrong in raising you, undisciplined, disobedient, you'll get nowhere in life"
Am I one to be trained like a dog?
I begin to think
What have I done?
No answer comes to mind
But maybe what I do right is wrong?
Maybe that's what it is
It must be
No other reason explains it

What have I done right?
I can't tell
Not anymore
The lines between right and wrong start fading
It was right, right?
Or definitely wrong.
Or is that wrong?
I don't know

Now years later
I still don't tell
I can't
Not because I lack the effort to try
Just the motivation
I tried again
And my efforts are failing me
So why try now?

It all makes sense to me
Good and bad
I can't understand your reasoning
That's my downfall
Empathy is not something I am not capable of
But I don't think you are

I think I might of been able to tell
Long ago
But you beat that out of me

The perfect vision to see
I see no lines anymore
Colourblind to green and red

Fades out to gray

And soon

It'll fade out to white

And I won't know

If that's right

I grew up
wanting to be you
because you were
cool and mature

the cigarettes,
the alcohol,
the ***

the peak teenage life
that this little boy
idolized

and in the end
I did end up like you

but I realized you've always been
a scared, scarred child
like me

and the life that we chose
isn't really a choice

it's the curse that came
from an old man's ***** hands

and while you tried to wash it off
you dragged me into the bathtub

and your
beautifully manicured hands
were filthy

you grabbed my wrist so hard
you might have broke it if I tried to resist

I wish I had snapped my arm out from your grip
and shouted for my brother

but I didn't do that
I kept quiet

because I wanted to be cool like you

"****** purest," swims through her head, shes growing,
oh god, oh the sinking dread

unrecognisable, her eyes with the shame,
her blood poisoned, the toxins remain
pulsating through her skin, her brain

and when you eat her guts from the inside out
while shes crying for her mum

shes a good for nothing, good for nowt

and she tastes like blood and ***

Oh hello again
We are unaquented still
Can you please remind me

Your name?

speak up, boy?

Oh

You still don't know?
How can you not know?
It's you isn't it?

Oh faceless one
Oh unaquented soul
Oh stranger..

I don't like talking to you

You don't know a lot..

I think I might stop looking at mirrors

I don't know whose eyes are staring back

My eyes are sore
My hands are cramped
I'm struggling to keep awake

But my dear

I need to keep awake
I want more of your words
I will gladly bare any discomforts for you

Such a small price, really

Because right now

There's a smile on my face
There's a beat in my heart
There's a laugh in my voice

It's all because of you

You make me giggle like a school girl
You make me blush like a teenager
You make me feel like I'm not finite

I could run on with stereotypes and clichés all night writing ****** poetry dedicated to you

It's the best I can do

Because I can't describe it enough

I can't find the right metaphor or simile to explain what I feel

I can't find the right word to finish this stanza

I can't write this well enough for you

You deserve the best

And I'm sorry to say

You're stuck with a ****** poet

Who writes ****** poetry

For the best person in his life

The name means nothing to her
The name means nothing
The name spoken and cried by billions,
The name prayed to and worshipped

The idol that we should not reject
As it is her
And she is true

The name that should not be said in vain,

The name of a million meanings and definitions

The name that could change a nation

And the one it belongs to that could change worlds

It bares no meaning anymore

For the one it belongs to

No longer knows it

She has forgotten that name and the vow that came with it

So now the name is nonsense

And it has fallen to obscure itself

And the one who it belongs to
Can no longer be reached

The name is gone

and so is she

The idol is gone

And so is the light

a word doesn't have to be real for it to have meaning
nothing has to be real for it to grip your stomach and throat and force butterflies into every part of your anatomy
the emotion crawls under your skin and all you can do is feel it

a woman rises in the dawn with her fiery red hair, eating men like air
you become that smiling woman, only 17 and not even a lady
dying becomes your art, and you are indeed very good at it

a man frowned like thunder and went away, the stars not needed today
you begin to pack up your very own sky, melancholy filling your entire world until it all comes to a standstill
wind does not blow and not even streetlights shine
your very own lover is still in tact, a phone call away even
but he frowned like thunder and went away

a raven, a remorse, a rapping at the chamber door
a madness, a mania, a man whose mind is gripped by loss
a horror that now belongs to you, the pigeons on the street start to quoth "nevermore,"
every crow is an omen, every bird is wandering through purgatory just to torment you,
and you have no loss to speak of

I dreamt I wrote that feeling, I dreamt I put it into words
I dreamt I transcended humanity, I dreamt I became the art
I dreamt about the feeling, I dreamt you felt it too

I don't write that kind of poetry
you know the type,
pretty flowing words that trickle down the page like a quaint little waterfall in a fancy garden
while daisies open themselves up with so much confidence
without any doubt

and I say something about myself without saying anything at all

the three dimensional poems that you could take a stroll through
and you can lay in the summer grass by the lake
you could get lost in the meaning

even though you're not so certain what the meaning is,
at least not for sure

no, I'm not so good at that

my words are more like...
running through the forest while it's dark and cold
because you want to get home and you're positive
you just heard something rustle in the dead leaves behind you

like telling your blaring warning signs to calm the **** down,
it's just an uneasy feeling

like telling the paranoiac to grow up and walk the **** pathway

it's shameful, annoying,
it's just some dumb feeling

no,
I don't write the sweet paintings kind of poem

I write my heart out into my notebook before I scribble it out and decide I had better not bother

my poems are regret-
regretting putting something good in my butchered understanding of art and words

every piece is the best I can do
and that's about it

my spine curves inward and outward like the horizon of a burial mound
if I stand up straight you might clock the little girl that's buried there

the wretched shackles that bound my wrists clanged together dreadfully as I shook
they themselves being the bindings between my innocence and the gallows patiently awaiting me

the voyeurs shout-
"murderess, o foul murderess!
burn eternally, you foul murderess!"

I am numb to these accusations,
as I am numb to the fear of death

the benevolent masses, the enemies that seek my execution,
these are not evil spirits
and so,
the guilty verdict that once grated against my skin now feels as soft and gentle as the clouds that, too, await me

I have retired the melancholy
I resolve myself to die with the dignity and gentleness that I had conducted myself with from the moment I was given life

I resolve to hold onto the sweetness and maternity that I showed that sweet boy,
that I had used to hold him for the first time

my hands, nothing but affectionate to that boy, my boy
the same hands that loved and cared for him from his very conception,
these are the hands they convict

these hands were supposedly the weapon that choked the life out of that sweet fawn, that I had loved so dearly

and so, these are the hands that are held accountable
bound behind my back, wrapped together tightly

these are the hands of love that have been convicted

Do not lecture me on the present or now

I will spend the rest of my life

Trying to live in the past

I will spend my entire life

Trying to find what I already lost for good

And this will never change

Because the only constant I'm allowed to have

Is to regret wasting what I had

And I will regret wasting this moment writing ****** poetry

And I already do

Because I could have had what I want

If I didn't squander my nights like this

If I didn't waste my days feeling sorry for myself

Maybe I could be who I wanted to be

If I was allowed just more constant

Just please give me one more thing that isn't so changeable

Just one thing

*please...

"BUT WE WERE BOTH YOUNG,
SHOULD I BE CHARGED WITH A CRIME
THAT I WAS TOO JUVENILE TO UNDERSTAND?"

IF YOU PLUNGED A KNIFE
INTO MY TODLER CHEST

WOULD YOU BE ASKING THE SAME THING?

Lying to yourself.

well done,

you actually believed you could be that way, didn't you?

You nearly fell for your own trick

the lie that

you are worth something

that you are anything but flawed

that you are strong

nice work, friend

real good work