"I am so lonely
and alone
my sadness
is my tomb”
Said the 12 year old girl
that watches shows of suicide
but only has a 1/6250 chance of
dying like the girls on those shows.
Even if she attempted to go through with it
the odds of succeeding are
1/25.
Oh boy,
it’s hard for young girls
to die.
I myself
usually only deal with odds of
1/1,000,000
but i’m more of a thrill seeker
than a mathematician.
But a lot more recently
i’ve been thinking about
odds
much more along the lines of
one in
6250.

Do you remember
That day before the day
You died.
I had yet to cry
And yet already cried.
How would I know
It'd be the last time.
A kiss upon your nose
Barely a goodbye.
I didn't know
I didn't know it'd be
The last time.
If I did I would've stayed
And waited for the time.
To too quickly slip
Beyond your mind
And take you away from me
As I held you close
Forging your soul with mine

I seek fulfillment
while I
die
trying to deny
these demons.
People use the phrase
“It’s all in your head”
and
what if it is?
What if it is?
Is that any better?
Inside isn’t a place to hide
it’s a beacon
to our reality
everything we see
is simply reflected from the outside to the in
endlessly.
Unless I end it.
Unless I think of a way
to fend them off.
I can’t
but I will.
All I’ve got left is will
will and that
half filled bottle of pills
but not the ones prescribed
the ones that tie my hands behind my back
and leave me ******* the **** of life for more.
It’s ok
don’t worry
it’s all only
a metaphor.
All except the title
I’d be dead
if not entitled.

I riddle my lies and empty my ties in the river of tears that i’ve cried as i lie in bed in the midst of the night
kissing my fright alight.

Sparks fly
but I can’t end it.
My dog Sparks died
but I pretend he didn’t
As words float around my mind
sounding (a lot like)
schizophrenic.
I end it.

I've been abused
Bla bla bla
My life's been *****
Bla bla bla
Nothing's the same
Bla bla bla
I tremor as I sleep in chains
Bla bla bla
My waking dreams and nightmares are the same
Bla bla bla
Last night I tried to **** myself in the rain
Bla bla bla
The trauma might get better but will never go away (fully change)
Bla bla bla
My brother died last week
Bla bla bla
He left me this ring
Bla bla bla
I wore it straight unto the grave
Bla bla bla
And never once told I'm gay
You're gay?
Oh god...
Anything
But gay

I've been abused
Bla bla bla
My life's been *****
Bla bla bla
Nothing's the same
Bla bla bla
I tremor as I sleep in chains
Bla bla bla
My waking dreams and nightmares are the same
Bla bla bla
Last night I tried to **** myself in the rain
Bla bla bla
The trauma might get better but will never go away (fully change)
Bla bla bla
My brother died last week
Bla bla bla
He left me this ring
Bla bla bla
I wore it straight unto the grave
Bla bla bla
And never once told I'm gay
You're gay?
Oh god...
Anything
But gay

The trees
used to sing with the wind
before He got here.

The salty ocean water
would gently shush us
all to sleep.
Now that He’s here
ships are sinking like
our dreams:
immediately.

Ever since He arrived
Candles no longer light the way,
They burn bridges
and build unimaginable walls
in their wake.

Plutonium
is no longer
radioactive.
Radioactivity
is relative.
Everything now glows a
sickly hue,
brought on
by His discolored
rotting views.

Air Earth Water Fire Aether

The eternal marriage
of Air
and the Earth
has faltered
under the guise of
conversion
“therapy”

Water has now
made itself undrinkable to all
but the chosen few.

Fire is now
Only Orange.

The Aether
is no longer empty.
It is filled
with all our memories.
It is the only place
for all of our bodies to go
now that we’re bound for soot,
inhabitable soil
and eternal
nuclear snow.

Air Earth Water Fire Aether

are now

GreatAgainGreatAgainGreatAgainGreatAgainGreatAgain

There are lots of avenues
through history
to travel down “again.”

Many views of former greatness.

Slavery
Holocausts
Massacres
Cities Lost

and it all starts

with an immigration ban.

Signed on the day
remembering
my dozens of dead family.
My millions slaughtered endlessly.

Here we are
At the beginning.

History supposedly repeats itself

Let’s not let Him

days go by
like drunk children in their
mothers womb.
I’m fishing in a pond
filled with nothing but alcohol.
It feels good
but I haven’t found any fishies yet.

I guess this is what
transitioning to your 20s feels like:
three weeks of settling into your new place,
thinking you have quite a few opportunities ahead of you
and then settling into your slightly bigger than before bed
only to stay there for hours upon hours a day
scrolling through nothing on the computer
hoping for more to come your way.

I’m trying to eat like a poor person
but I’m only poor in spirit,
financially i’m fat as a double sized donkey.
I’ve got a big ***
but it’s a nice ***
but i still wear
baggy jeans
and all black
to hide my
assets.

I wonder if i’ll look back on this transition period
with regrets.
The days fluctuate
some are
time so well spent.
Others are
just as dry as paint,
the stuff of art
but probably just as useless
as recoloring a picket fence.