I'm not exactly who you think I am,
the words I speak, I do not think,
I read your mind and see what you need to hear,
so I talk it, hoping you're listening,
It's not entirely my fault,
I was born without a face, empty, and dull

You only see those with eyes,
so I pretend to see to get by,
maybe I'm too young, too late, and too old,
but all I've ever known is the night and her cold,
All I really want is a new beginning,
all I've ever wanted to see in you was a face smiling,

So I'll pretend to be something I'm not,
until my last shred of identity rots,
because you wouldn't like who I am
under all the clothes is a wolf made of scam,
a wolf, young, scared, and confused,
so much, he doesn't know his own howl from the moon

I miss you, and the way your eyes felt soft and deep and endless as
we steady held the silence in the gaze.
For how you saw right through me...
brought me to life.

I had nothing to hide.

I miss you and the way you held my heart when it was breaking, every day
you whispered comfort for my fears.
You listened as I fumbled towards awareness of myself,
You were strong. You loved me. You knew me.

I miss waking up to love you, and letting you love me.
To fall completely into each day, into the trust.... I miss before I feared.

I couldn't cope with the concept of you knowing me better than I know myself.

And now I know that I have never known myself.

But you have.

And you were right.

I just needed you to know that now I know.

I want the world for you.

the path i should walk
to take me to places i should go
with friends i should talk to
and the boys i should like
the book i should read
that tells me what i should be doing
flaws i should cover up
clothes i should wear
food i should eat
to ensure i look the way i should

i'm gonna go where i want
with the people that make me happy
regardless of if it's what i "should" do
because i'm sick and tired
of being defined and confined
by what people believe i should do
because of what i look like
or where i come from
my gender
my age
my race

you only get one life

why waste it doing what you "should"?

they tell her to let her imagination fly
but they don't know how much her hands shake
when she thinks of his smile.
the sun always sets
but the sound of his laughter
ringing inside her mind won't.
she wants to make a home in the stars
that twinkle in the galaxy of his irises,
but she knows better than to find comfort
in someone else's body,
especially a body that she has never
had the chance to hold.
they tell her to let her imagination fly
so she keeps thinking that she will someday
make a bed inside his collarbones
and that she will spend her mornings
watching him trace the outlines of her hips
with his fingertips like she used to do
with the strings of the violin
she used to play as a child,
but no one ever told her
that you can't make homes out of human beings.
she tries to imagine a world
where the distance between them is shortened,
where she doesn't have to look at the moon
and pretend that he is looking at the same one
even though he's probably asleep
and dreaming about someone else's eyes.
they tell her to let her imagination fly
and she wants to let it skyrocket
past the ozone and land next to where he is,
on the other side of the solar system.
they tell her to let her imagination fly
and she does, but not because she wants to.
she has to make up all the words herself,
the way he smells and the way he tastes
and the way he sounds in the air.
she knows that everyone needs a place
and that it shouldn't be inside of someone else,
but imagining a world with him
is better than imagining a world where there is no love
and where everything goes wrong.
which is to say, imagining a world with him
is better than imagining a world without him.

Rat a tat tat
The sound of a war

The Politician swings
On marionette strings

As we chant
Destroy a nation
Follow blindly and do as you are told

To question this is Heresy
Eternal Hell and Damnation.

Line the pockets of the corporate *****.
Babylons got a new King.

Nameless kids on the front lines.
Being blown to smithereens.

Johnnys come home in a black bag
The same thing happened to dad.

Mom and Julie alone now , two  mouths less to feed