Do you remember
when the dragon saved the princess
from that awful knight
because I can remember it clearer than most

the knight, a greedy *******
who's foul lips
wrapped around a glass bottle
who's foul lips
sought the bottle
and nothing more

and remember when he hit the princess that first time
remember when he grabbed her hair
remember when he shoved her down
put away the scars
the scratches
the bruises
treated it as
'oh, he's just showing his love'

and remember
remember that one night
when she finally called his bluff
she said 'no, you don't love me'
remember when he hit her with the bottle
the knight, what a **** bag
but after that,
came the dragon
with his tattoos and heavy beard
on his motorcycle
and beat the knight away
****** him to hell
or at least prison
and a lot of angry inmates

and the princess and the dragon
set away
to have a nice little life together
with the night safely locked and gone
in a far away tower.

I would hold back
the sea with my
bare hands

If you asked

No one told me
so i'm telling you
i expected grief to feel like sadness
but i wasnt told that
that it makes your whole body ache from morning until night
and even in your sleep
and that it makes your hands sting from numbness
making buttoning your jeans impossible
and that some days clumps of your hair fall out
but having a good hair day is the least of your worries
and morbid thoughts attack like being ***** slapped upside your head
hurting so bad you actually pass out in mid sen--
But it's nothing like the sadness i had expected to feel
i've known clinical depression since age 4
and that feeling of curling up in the fetal position
waving the white flag of surrender
trying to make yourself into the tiniest ball of nothing
But grief is a flammable substance
and you can feel it as it ignites the flame of your soul
it feels like being angry in a righteous way
like when jesus knocked over the flea market vendor's tables at the temple
like being so ******* at all of the scales that are inbalanced
and it is the fuel that makes you want to correct the injustices of the world
and become larger than you are
and shower love compassion and truth over evil
no one told me that grief feels like this
so i'm telling you

I love you because your my brother
Even if its not obvious to others
Because we look different
I brag about you at school
And complain
(But that's because your weird ;)
I show I love you every day
And that's why i say yes when you ask me
To vehemently threaten the monsters in your closet
And lock said closet afterwards
And why
After I'm done
I mention everything in the room
That you can use to bludgeon them with
Because you might actually have to use the Mater Piggy Bank
To knock out a robber
When your in college
And why after that
I tell you that all stuffed animals are Super Friends
And that's why parents get them for their kids
And yes, Monkey Friend and Friend-Friend
Are the best in the monster busting biz'
Along with Sabrina the Teddy Bear
Who I haven't washed in so long
Daddy says she looks like a truck ran her over
I love you
Joe-Joe
Buddy
Bug
Monkey
Joey
Joseph Fredrick Kolb
And I always will
Because I'm your Big Sister
And that's my job
To love you
You eleven year old 'Griever' (TROLL)
And keep you safe
And hopefully not crying
Because the next bully at school
Who makes you cry
Is going to die a painful death
So help me god
Because there is nothing worse
Than a crying little brother

He's six feet above
And he's missing her because
She's six feet under.

you?
made of pixels?
hah, if i wanted pixels i would have played nintendo 64 with my neighbour down the street and angrily whispered "h-e-double hockey sticks" under my breath as one of my pixelated hearts faded away.
you are anything but intangible; i can feel your pulse across two countries.
our hearts are undeniably made of flesh.
i know that word grosses you out,
but the blood pumping, orifice-filled organs in our chests constantly beat with the ferocity of 109 percussionists drumming on the queen's birthday.
hearts are not meant for beautification; one cannot get a cosmetic surgery on their heart to impress the girl next door.
it's up to you to pair with your just-as-ugly brain to prove how beautiful love can be.

What's this rush i feel when your skin touches mine?
When you hold me close and our fingers intertwine
to pull me behind you, as we run and laugh
through casino tables, guests and staff.
When we draw odd looks from curious faces
who stare and pretentiously wonder if places
like this are for people like us.
But really, sweetheart, if i had to guess
at how i feel and what magic this is,
then i could only try to describe my bliss
as the gentle tickle of your dress against mine
and the click of our heels, as we move in time
to a beat, that doesn't match that of the DJ
and the music he chose for us to dance the night away.
Then we dance to the Time Warp, and Thriller,
and then a slow dance, after establishing that C is killer
at dancing no matter how crazy. That we should kiss
though we awkwardly don't and maybe, it's my guess,
you don't feel the way i do,
and you don't feel this rush and want this affection for you
that i anxiously hold, and try to restrain from running wild.
Yet i feel as though it is a Great Dane and I a small child
trying very nervously not to be shy,
but to express through words or kiss and a sigh
the feelings i feel for you as you stand at my side
hands perfectly entwined
as your hair and dress
                             slide
                        around
                   your
             curves
          like
        wysteria
           or ivy
              and flare
               dramatically
and             splendidly
               as you spin                            
              and rush
       and laugh
and smile

I smile

How soft we've become, sitting on cushions instead of curbs.