you used to be my light.
I wear sunglasses now.

you are not as strong as you once were.
your defenses are weakening, and the troops are retreating.
but you stay planted.
you will not move until this war has been won.

you ache with hunger.
your body caves as all missionaries desert and you find yourself the only one armed.
but you stay planted.
you will not move until this war has been won.

you cry at night.
your mind has gone crazy and the journalists have taken your heroic story from the headlines.
but you stay planted.
you will not move until this war has been won.

you will not move until I love my self.

i. when I was young, I was never complimented. I never felt good enough and it hurt and somewhere along the line I began complimenting everyone because I was never complimented and I never wanted anyone to hate themselves the way I did. just because I call a girl pretty does not mean I want in her pants.

ii. we live in a country where a gay poet spoke at obama's second inauguration, where five openly gay senators serve, where all fifty states have had a gay elected officer in some capacity, so if I were to be gay, what's the problem with a relatively unknown sixteen year old girl from a relatively unknown town in a relatively unknown state being gay?

iii. do you want me to be gay? do you want a better, more socially acceptable reason to make fun of me? is my weight not enough?

iv. I was taught the term fluidity by my best friend Alyssa. she firmly believes that sexuality is a spectrum, like many other things. I have a different view on sexuality because I see it as a spectrum, not something that's set in stone.

v. I like making people happy, I like completing people, I apologize a bit too frequently and I was taught how to accept people.

vi. just because I call a girl pretty does not mean I like her. just because I say a dog is cute does not mean I want with the dog. just because I say a painting is pretty does not mean I am going to **** the painting.

vii. aesthetic is a very important word.

viii. there are three kinds of attraction, aesthetic, romantic, and ******. just because you have one does not mean you have all three. just because I like the way something looks doesn't mean I am going to have *** with it.

ix. sexuality is an Identity. not a YOUdentity.

x. I'm not gay, but if I were, trust me, I wouldn't go for such a whiny little *****.

As I try to shield myself from the beast of civilization, the cold hearted bleeding dagger protruding through the back of America, that filthy, filthy, king of darkness swallowing the minds and dissecting the thoughts of the youth, the raging zombie in the form of love. So I tried. Beauty claim the beast as it was written and saw the true face of Frankenstein. What a soft timid thing, similar to me. Dare I try? ***** the breast and taste the flesh of the raw meat. Something new, something sweet, something just like me. Beauty tamed the beast and so the face was revealed.

When you're up on stage,
It's like time slows.
Your breathing is more focused,
Your heart beats a little faster.
You go out there and own it and do your very best,
Because there's no point in embarrassing yourself,
With a little pity thing called fear.
The rush of adrenaline pours over you,
And like that you're addicted.
You crave the curtain opening,
And the applause at the end.
Your heart drops when you miss a line,
Or fumble on a word.
The stage becomes your life,
And consumes you,
As if acting was a drug.

What happens when life turns to hell and
even heaven has that offset view
of hells gates deceiving
Trickery, mockery.
Heavens lights are dimming
Hells fire is burning ever more.

"don't let your heart
guide your head in a fight
or you will lose to the dark
before you even embark"

What's the point in pointing the finger of blame,
And leaving remnants of shame,
That rip through our family walls.
Why must we mold and conform to what we call the "Love laws".
Rules to live by that control what we think,
But I swear I'm on the brink,
Of saying "**** it all".

You say that you love me,
And yet you won't let me be who I am meant to be.
You put on this image,
Of perfectness that seems to lack a blemish.
Would you take a moment to look back and realize how ****** up this is?
You can't because you have your head stuck so far up the book that is the almighty His.
I wish you would.

But please don't get me wrong,
I get up and sing those good ol' Christian songs,
Just like you do,
But mine are true.
You're a Christian in the walls of glory,
But every where else you act out your Christian faith so poorly.
Stop blaming and hiding behind that book.

No matter what you do or say,
My love for you will always stay,
Because a Loves a Love no matter what,
Just hold on and I promise we'll get through this rut.
No matter how we disagree,
I know that we will never see,
Eye to eye.

But if somehow by fate we do,
That would be the day that my dreams come true,
To have a family that doesn't fight,
But loves each other day and night.
That dream of mine is too far away,
So for now the circumstances stay,
How they have always been.

I sell for a living.
But not the kind of selling
you do at the supermarket
and not the kind you do on the net
but the kind where I give parts of me
to strangers I will never again see.

Strangers like the boy with the pretty eyes
and the woman shedding tears
and the gentleman with many stories.

I give away the parts of me
I think will make others smile
an ear for you sir
and a part of my heart to you madamme
would you like a hand? a dimple?
Let me know because I give it all
and when you leave
don't say goodbye,
let me believe
and dream that one day we will meet again
and you will give those parts back
so I can be whole once again
for the one who would have cared