I Like music

I like my music like I like my ***, loud, hard, and angry.

I like to stab people with needles and call it art

I like to rip open my soul and call it poetry

I like boys with weird hair and piercings

I like people who aren't afraid to say what’s on their mind

I like people with broken souls and broken knuckles to match

It's one in the morning and it's raining outside
can't sleep,
anxiety high
sit on the curb
light a cigarette
watch it burn
watch it die
it's one in the morning and it's raining outside
hear it trickle off the roofs of the homes
sit alone
flick my knife
hear the cars go by
it's one in the morning and it's raining outside
That's alright, when you're wet nobody can see you cry
it's one in the morning and it's raining outside.

April 5th 1994- Kurt Cobain dies
April 6th 1994- The President of Rwanda Dies
April 7th 1994- Kurt Cobain's body is found
April 7th 1994- A genocide begins.
Neighbors take arms against neighbors
People he once shared a sandbox with now hold a machete to his neck
Heads roll- literally
Babies cry out to their mothers who lie there choking on their own blood
Girls who 2 days ago were playing house with their dolls, now take care of their whole family
Screams of pain from girls who's innocence is taken from the man who used
           to bounce them on his knee.
Gathered in the place where God is supposed to be
Hundreds are murdered ruthlessly.
Guns not pointed at their heads
But clubs that smash them in.
Achilles' heels slashed
These men drink and feast and sleep
Over the screams of their victims
Babies born 9 months after these men took something that was not theirs to
           take
A physical representation of all that is evil and hatred and pain
She tries to love them anyway
But she sees him in them
He has daddy's eye
She has her fathers nose
She sees them in the way he looks at her when he's hungry
As if she is just there to quench that thirst with her body.

The whole word is split in 2
Nobody is Rwandan anymore
You are Hutu or Tutsi
Short or tall
Human or vermin.
The dead among the living
Sometimes I can't tell which is which
Until I see it
That sparkle of hope in that one man's eye
Because the human spirit will never die.
The father of his best friend tortured and murdered his mother on their
           front lawn.
Orphaned and afraid,
He cannot stop
He cannot slow down
He cannot give up
Because ***** Kurt Cobain
he has to tell the story of what really happened that day
Rwanda April 7th 1994

I'm terrified of the dark, but I snuck out of my house every night for weeks
Because I thought it would make them like me better.

I went weeks on 1 hour of sleep
Walked into my house at 6:30 and got ready for school
Because I thought it would make them like me better

Got so drunk that all I remember is splashing around in the toilet because my elbows had already fallen in
And slapping Colin in the face because I didn't like the way the blanket felt on my half naked skin
Because I thought it would make them like me better

Fought a 3 day hangover
Because I thought it would make them like me better

****** a guy I barely knew because we needed a ride
It didn't matter that I already had a boyfriend
Because I thought it would make them like me better

All I ever got back was tears as I sit, dripping wet, in nothing but a towel because he said he was going to **** himself.

Stayed up until 4 AM because he said he was going to drink himself to death because he broke up with my best friend

He still said nobody cared about him.

He stood me up on every plan we have ever made
And that's when you know to drop a friend.


But he did share his mac and cheese that one time.

Her Holister Clothes, her Ugg boots,
The 600 hair products in her bathroom,
and the ruby red smile she paints on every day.
The house of cards that is her so called perfect life
toppled by a gust of wind.
She's in the bathroom crying again.
A rusty blade glides across her wrist
like a snake in the grass
a crimson river runs off her fingertips
forming a heart shaped puddle at her feet
but she cant see
mascara running down her cheek
she gets to the sink
washes off her face
wraps her wrist in a blue cloth and a bracelet that says peace
paints on her ruby red smile
and picks up the 52 tear stained cards that is her so called perfect life.

This is not an angsty teenage poem
of love lost in that moment when you realized you wern't the exception
This isn't the story of love found over a cup of coffee
This is the poem for those who cannot speak
afraid of the havoc their words will wreak
the voices that tell stories worth sharing
wanting to be set free
to see light
to scream
Those who sit in fear
of not being believed
and for those who's name they'll never speak
The star athlete
the man down the street
the man in the corner of the bar
their best friends brother,  in his car.
this is a poem for those who shed tears and wish they were layers of skin
this is the poem for words unspoken
for those who wish that all they lost was love
for those who's tongue's gone numb
for those who wish this was an angsty teenage poem.