i have a thing for vengeance.

i like to watch people reap what they sow
i like to watch evil human beings eat **** for what they've done
i enjoy it.

and that sounds kind of ******* messed up
sort of
but at the same time
i love to see good, kind people
succeed
does that still make me bad?

my dad says that my gift of justice needs to be redeemed
that i have so much trouble forgiving people
because i refuse to give up the right to vengeance
that vengeance is the lord's...
i get that,
dad.
but i don't want to wait
for these ******* to die
before they get
what they've sent around
and i don't want to watch
the few good people on this earth
die before
they feel alright
for once

i am a fighter
i can't help but fight
someone once told me that's why i'm single
i said
*******, man

i try very hard not to fall in love with certain boys
boys that think i am a ball of yarn they can string along
care free
i get snarled
too easily
might be
the ginger in me

i especially avoid all boys with guitars
my heart is a six string
and they've got the pick
i don't like that

never fall for trumpet players, either
the myth about them being good kissers is false

i like rough and ready boys
with dirt under their fingernails
and autumn breezes in their hair
they catch up those green fields
in their eyes
look at me with them
and i
can't resist
that one
for some ******* reason

everyone says
"get a boyfriend, red"
but there aren't any boys in this small town
that are like that
and dad says
don't fall in love with southern boys
...sorry dad, these northern boys won't do

give me that sweet summer
goodbye stain on your lips
and i'll give you
half my smile
so you'll keep coming back
for more.

i talked to a man from india
jilted at the altar
three times
by the girl he loved
because she was
"feeding her dog".
he waited nine hours in his tuxedo
"like an ***"
he said.
she wanted more
"gifts"
if she was going
to marry him.
depressed, he went to a *******
"where the real fun began"
got hired as a dancer
got paid to make women wet
something
he'd never done
before
most were married with kids
he felt bad at first
but his boss said
it couldn't be helped
get used to it
he became incredibly wealthy
many friends,
many gifts,
paid a high pension
didn't show his face to the girls
but showed other things
eventually he was banned
for being too
prosperous

...a man almost forced into prostitution
even when he didn't like it
a sad story
one that belongs on a blog somewhere
or in a poem

and it all happened
on imvu
welcome to the ******* internet
where being ridiculous is cause for farming liable sympathy

it's very hard to be a successful poet without being in love
and i haven't been in love since
....
maybe it was ryan
but i don't know if that was love or not
i think it was more like
wishful thinking
i have been determined to find my own bravado
ever since

i like boys that use pretty words
and think deep thoughts
but i would never want anything more to do with them
other than the small attraction i give sunlight and water to
every once in a small while

i am slightly worried about not being in love.
at my age
with my gender,
that is one's occupation
i can rightfully fail school
if it is in the name of love
they might even make a romantic comedy about me
if i do all the wrong things just because i am moonstruck

i would ask you to fall in love with me
to give me an excuse
but to be honest...
i can't be bothered.

i would like to line you all up
shake your hand
one by one
inform you that i don't need you
and then employ a large wrecking ball
to knock you over
one by one
so i don't have to look at your faces
any more
i get very angry
and then i cry
and cut my body open
it's your fault
i would like something to be my fault for once.

i would like to write a cute little poem so i can post it on facebook
and have everyone tell me how adorable i am
how good at mediocre poetry i am
have them repost and like and comment
on my mediocrity
but every time i sit down to try
the word "****" pops out
and "****"
and
"*******"
and "cutting"
and "help me"
and "go to hell".

and no one on facebook would like that
they'd unfriend me
not that i ******* care
just that i have a hard time being adorable
no matter how many times people comment on my cute face
i am not a cute person
i'd cut you,
*****
forreal.

i almost wish i could be like my little sister
the prodigy
but **** prodigies, man

i had this strange notion that new clothes would make people want me.
like a tripping over a new stereotype and taking it home to dry
would make people notice me
like my pictures on instagram
now that i can hashtag "gamergirl"
"nerdgirl"
"glasses"
"geek".

like somehow big bows and tight jeans
loose sneakers and earcuffs
and fake glasses
would finally sort me into the right file
with all the other people
like me (?)

like me.
are you like me
as in the clothes i'm wearing
the movies i'm watching
the games i'm playing
are you like me like the words i use
like the smiles i smile
like the imitation kim kardashian perfume that i buy (?)

i had the feeling that people would notice me
that hipster boys in starbucks would take a sideglance, then go for another peek
that boys from ivy-league schools
would ask for my number
that gamestop employees would stand too close to me...
and i was right.

but being right doesn't always mean you're happy
and though i am somehow now interesting
and attractive
and easy to sort into small plastic boxes
i feel
empty
poor
cold
materialistic

basically, i feel like every girl i have ever envied.
i don't know why i envied them.

they are not like me.

a familiar tightness and shortness of breath
slips into my chest...
college always does this to me.

it's not even the work.
i can do the work
like a prisoner doing his time
it's the people that i can't do.

why am i so socially awkward?
i am a triumph among those younger than me
but people my own age
make me feel like a snail
hiding in a shell in plain sight
where i could easily be stepped on.

i must sink into my comfortable stereotype
yes, that will help
i am a gamergirl who wears batman shirts
and plays assassin's creed in the library
move along, ugg boots.
nothing to see here.

why is it that every time a boy passes me in the hall
i feel guilty
like i owe something i haven't paid
like i ought to have something but i haven't taken the time to get up and get it -
embarrassed.

boy,
why does the back of your neck frighten me
why does the suggestion of your frame
make me wish i was not existing
what is it about you that is so
*******
scary

i am a goddess
a wisdom
a prose
and yet i cannot look normalcy in the face
you are nothing special
but you are enough to untie my laces