Dear Angry,

I know you're not happy,
but there's nothing I can do,
I can't help it you're upset,
how you feel is up to you

I know that hurting others,
is something you do for fun,
but right at this moment, Angry,
I've got to get this ironing done.

With you it's, let's take someones,
sunshine, and turn it into rain.
Let's take away lifes joyfulness,
and replace it with some pain.

You turn up at accidents,
just to add a bit of rage,
Look here, Angry, why don't you,
just go off and find another stage.

(c) 4th November 2010

I'm angry

Seriously, ******

Because people rake up leaves
Like they can
Control nature

Because in the third grade you
Pushed me down
Instead of helping me up

Because I never forgot
The day you
Apologized to me
And you can't even remember
Last Tuesday

Because Sarah Lynn
Isn't even my
Real name

Because I had to feed
Myself at the age of
Five
And I was raised by
A *******
Television screen

Because I thought the
Drugs could somehow
Fix everything
For me
And they just made
It worse

Because everyone thinks
I'm a lesbian
Simply because I've never
Had a serious boyfriend
But how could I
Tell them
That I never loved
Another
After you...

Because I step on the cracks
Praying I break
Her back

Because all of those
Songs
That I can relate to
Weren't really
Sung about me

Because when you
Finally
Told me how you felt
I pretended
That I was just
Sleeping

Because everyone
Turns the other
Cheek
When they see me
Crumble

Because no one
Will ever read these
Words and
Understand completely
Where I'm coming from

Because I feel like
I think too fast
And I know too much
And I'm too overwhelmed
To ever truly experience
Happiness

Because I'm the only
Person in my life
That I can
Trust
With anything
Serious

I'm angry
Because...

Because when he smiles
At me
My heart melts
And there's nothing
I can do about it
Because he's
Dead

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

512

The Soul has Bandaged moments—
When too appalled to stir—
She feels some ghastly Fright come up
And stop to look at her—

Salute her—with long fingers—
Caress her freezing hair—
Sip, Goblin, from the very lips
The Lover—hovered—o’er—
Unworthy, that a thought so mean
Accost a Theme—so—fair—

The soul has moments of Escape—
When bursting all the doors—
She dances like a Bomb, abroad,
And swings upon the Hours,

As do the Bee—delirious borne—
Long Dungeoned from his Rose—
Touch Liberty—then know no more,
But Noon, and Paradise—

The Soul’s retaken moments—
When, Felon led along,
With shackles on the plumed feet,
And staples, in the Song,

The Horror welcomes her, again,
These, are not brayed of Tongue—

were it as rippling as the techno static shoveled obdurately
in the volume of this writhing pit i'd sonic cavalierly with the
fairy dusting eyelids fluttering. stripping accurately the moisture
of my minute organs churning salty crystal obliqueness at the
stunning lounge seriously unserious fractals micturiting. hey it's
youth. what else?