I'm a white, male,
American dreamsicle
who says "****"
way too much
to not be cool.

I read about my father issues
on my mother's face.
I hate things and people
because the news told me to.
Art is ****** and ****** is art;
when Billy killed Sue,
my heart raced.
Do drugs with me
or do none at all;
promise me when we're high
we won't fall.

There are ******* on the street
and the cops are shooting them.
There are ******* kissing
and old, white men are scared.
There are mentally ill people
and they are "seeking attention".
There are women with voices
and old, white men are scared.

I am an American Dreamsicle:
cold, unhealthy, and killing your kids.
You can buy me for 40% off
and I promise to take 60% of your ideals.
I am what my parents don't want me to be
and that is the appeal.
Little do I know, I am every thing you are
and that is my cancer.

Mouthfuls of lead
Cannot silence
Free speech.

People.
Poets.
Arise.

The pen is mightier
Than the
AK-47.

I want to rewind it all.
I'm watching the snow fall out my window and I can't help but daydream about catching it on my tongue all those years ago.
Back when I'd breathe onto windows so I could draw pictures, back when the whole world was my canvas.
It seems the whole world's already been colored in though, like there's no more room left for us dreamers.
I read a poem in junior high asking where dreams go, but now I care more about where the dreamers went.
I want to rewind it all.
Back to when I thought the sky was another world's ocean,
Back before I had ever heard the word stratosphere or had failed a biology test.
I want life to be recorded on a VCR, little green and red buttons putting my mind at ease.
Then again, I haven't owned a VCR in years...