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

A Poem For Each Of The Boys I’ve Ever Loved

Ⅰ.
sometimes your scent travels in the wind,
suffocating me like a nasty perfume,
leaving me to wonder if i’ll ever forget your smell.

Ⅱ.
you wore the sweatshirt you let me borrow a few days ago
i mean, i don’t even think you remember i had it at all.
it was just another sweatshirt in your drawer.

Ⅲ.
your handwritten notes sit in neat pile next to my bed.
it has occurred to me that maybe thats the cause of my nightmares.
but really i think you’re the reason for everything and anything.

Ⅳ.
you have the prettiest eyes in the whole entire world.
im satisfied knowing i was once the reason they lit up so bright.
I’ll never let someone take the sparkle in my eyes away again.

Ⅴ.
we used to listen to music together and we’d laugh a lot.
you’d snicker at they way i lip sang to myself.
and id laugh because you really didn’t care i was a ******.

ⅤⅠ.

most of my days are spent wishing you were still here
you never really know how much you love someone
until they don’t love you anymore and thats a sick thought.


(ps, each of these poems are about you and only you and always you. i miss you. love always, the pathetic girl with a big heart and green eyes.)

It's so much colder here in the morning
The rain is cold and the sky isn't blue
It's so much colder everywhere in the morning
Lying anywhere without you
I know you will be happy when your with me
And with you I will finally feel alive
We've both got baggage and the right to be
Able to decide to just put it all aside
On the day we finally meet
On the day that I finally hold you
In my broken down embrace
I'll never want to leave you there
Without me with you in that broken down place
My life won't ever be the same
Just like my past will forever be stained
But you and I will be ok
And I know we are both afraid
Of the thought that we might be making a mistake
Of the possibility of a high price to be paid
Even with the risk looming overhead
It's a chance I'm more than willing to take
If we don't jump off the edge
That could be the biggest mistake of all
Our happiness could fall
right by the wayside; with all the times they lied
and told it was wrong when we knew it was right
But still I have this plight
My past is just that; it's the past
And yes its filled with broken memories of dreams that shattered just like glass
I lived a life that was hard and fast
I barely made it through the other end intact
So I'm sitting on a cold morning
With my baggage and I'm so blue
It's so much colder everywhere in the morning
When I'm dying without you
So please, love, do your best to get here soon
And I will travel to you by the light of the moon
And I will hold you so close; so soon
Forever changed tomorrow at the strike of noon
I hope I don't scare you away
With all of the horrible things I did do and say
Because the past is the past
And the future begins for us right here today
I will never ever leave you
I always want to be by your side
I'll help you carry your baggage
while I'm hoping we can get past mine
I don't want to be cold in the morning
I want to know that everything is fine
I don't want every morning to be so cold
I just want to know that you are mine

I'm sorry you had to steal
what was already freely given.
I hope your heart never burns
like mine did the day I wrote that.
I give to you freely
what you honestly deserve,
that is a second chance,
and a word of advice.
Give from yourself,
no gift can ever be poorly graded.

When I was nineteen
I learned to procreate.

Sparks were flying and fears were moving and hearts were beating and hands were racing and bodies were sweating and hormones were raging. We were wrapped up tight in your Target sheets, gasping for each breath as if our end we would meet. Our eyes averted. We were so nervous. This new act of pleasure drove us deeper and deeper. We hoped we would stay, we hoped and we prayed and we loved until that day.

I said no more. You cursed and slammed the door. This wasn't for us, I couldn't take it. I wasn't tough.
You begged and pleaded to be forgiven. I was done pleasing and was ready to listen to reason.
That day was the last and I said I ain't coming back. You kept pulling me down so I said **** it and I turned around.

Around to my other guy, because I wasn't happy with the one by my side. To my back up beau waiting for me after school. He was there on the long nights as I wiped my tears from saying my goodbyes. He held my hand and listened to my plan of the two of us finally making it after two years of struggling and suffocating in our relationships, our individual emotional abyss. This was our time, our time to shine. Time to let go and be happy and be free and be who we wanted to be. All I needed was him and all he needed was me.

But that crashed and burned.

What we thought was forever was only a game. Heartstrings were pulled and heartache was made. Disaster full on. Before I knew it he was gone. Two years of my life were erased just like that, like a single mistake where all you had to do was backspace. I cried my eyes out and I banged my head and I avoided you and I wished I was dead. I gave you my heart on that very first day and you kept it for two years and then you threw it away.

Twenty one today and I've come a long way from the girl that cried over broken hearts and broken minds. I'm strong and it's true, I love someone, I do but it's in a different way because today's another day. I don't have to live worrying about what ifs and the past. It's gone and it's over and I'm thankful for that. You both made me cry, my arms up to the sky pleading and begging for something so dear, but how did I know I would find it right here? Now I've got my heart together and I wear it on my sleeve, proud but protected from any would-be's. I'm happy and I'm healthy and I feel joy and I want to sing. This life I am living, I can't imagine any other thing.



*September 20, 2013

a moment ago i was holding her hand and telling her that her hand was soft and beautiful and she said to me that my face was soft and beautiful and now i am thinking back on that...
if thats the case, i believe my face is a liar.
a misleader of sorts.
it leads people to believe that i myself am soft and beautiful.
i've been told i have very kind eyes.
that may be but i know the truth about myself and it really does boil down to fact that no one knows me.
except me.
not my mom.
not my best friend.
not my other best friend.
not my girlfriend.
not my sisters.
not my brothers.
people only know about me what i have chose to reveal to them.
( in that sense, i guess you can be whatever you want in this world.)
whether what i have revealed is true or not doesn't matter.
( and i guess some people are better liars than others. some people would try to lead you to believe certain things but they're bad at lying ((which i think means they are unintelligent because you have to be pretty intelligent to successfully mislead someone/everyone)) and you realize the truth about them that they are trying to hide)
my face is a liar.
it'd lead you to believe that i am kind, soft and beautiful.
there is a fraction of me i suppose that is.
say 9%.
but the rest is not.
i am in truth, a master manipulator.
i am a sociopath.

I don't want to be depressed anymore.
The shoulds and woulds
All wrapped up in why did he
And how could she.
Eating slowly at the bonds I've formed
With people.
Human beings that are doing their best
But never good enough for me,
For perfection.
I'd rather be dead.

I don't want to be upset anymore
With the strangers on the bus
In their garb of business and ***
That they speak with boisterous joy
They should be considerate of me
And speak louder to drown out my thoughts.
Maybe I could drown them out on my own.

I want to be content
Because I want to do the dishes and use them
I want to ***** the floors and wash them again,
I want to see the beauty in a teapot and the joy in a
soft pillow
To see what it is to comfort a weathered soul.
I want to uphold routine.

I want to be happy
Because I love to feel alive
And I love to feel in love.
I love to love you and I want to do that for me
And maybe you'll do it for you too.
I want to sit with you in silence
And discuss soda in the coffee shop,
I want to look at you and cry
In gratitude
The only thing I can feel for you
And I know I will.

I want to live a life,
Because I want to be alive.

"You killed a man"
They say over and over
In his head
"You killed a man."
They repeat to him
Until he knows they can not be wrong.

He walks the streets
wondering if the eyes that glance him over
while they walk on by
know that on average
a person walks past a murderer
36 times
in their life.
"You killed a man"
He expects one of them to scream.

She is different
He knows this from they day they first meet
The voices go quiet
Almost allowing him to sleep.

He takes her on dates,
tells her
his hopes and dreams
though it is not until the night
they decide to combine their resources
in a cramped damp apartment
with a view of the sunset against the skyline
that he decides to tell her
the words that once were on
replay
inside his mind.

"I killed a man."
He whispers to her.
His voice bright
In direct contrast to the darkness
of the night.
As his hands tap the covers
Twice then once then twice again.

Her eyes caress him,
touching him in ways he knows can not be done
with hands
as he repeats
"I killed a man."
His eyes fixed on the ceiling,
Counting the tiles
To be sure
that 101
has not changed to 102
and the stain in the 81'st hasn't shifted to 22'nd.

He jumps at the feeling of her touch

Voice sharp
Hands soft.
"Tell me."
The demand
so quiet
he wonders if it was just the sound
of settling dust.

He turns to her,
Finds the question in her eyes.
It's a drastic change
from the haunted look he expected
if only to reflect
what he sees in the mirror every day.

"I killed a man." He says once again,
For the millionth time in his life
though only
the third
outside of his head.

Her fingers trace his face.
Thumb running across his lips.
She opens her mouth,
and quietly whispers the words he never dared to
even consider
"The man you killed,
was yourself."

cheers to the teenage years
cheers to the years with the crazy thoughts
cheers to the years where you feel as if you're not worth it
cheers to the people who keep us going
cheers to the ones who never quit
cheers to falling under the pressure
cheers to the kids with a broken family
cheers to the kids who act grown up
cheers to the kids who choose not to be themselves because they fear of the judgement
& keep themselves smiling to please the faces that haunt them
cheers to all these confusing years

that seem to never end.
a.c. & s.n