i find
that the word ****
is a poetic word.

"*******"
is harsh
rude
and
brash.

"**** me"
is ******
crass
and
not classy.

"**** it"
means a lot,
like ***** these ideas
***** what is thought.

I find
**** it
is a good phrase.
The other two
negative,
one that's positive
sometimes.
**** it,
implys a lot.
And in this case
it implied
forgetting
what the others
thought
and how others
saw
us.

-r.y.s

snows melting
ground turns to mud
rain pours
flowers sprout

the harsh cold
turns to mild warmth
bitter winds
into light breezes

winter fades
into the spring
the bleak despair
into promising hope

spring into a hopeful view.

-r.y.s

i love the feeling
of blood rushing out of my feet

it reminds me
that I am alive

i feel the blood
pull into my heart

and I remember
that I breathe and I'm alive

I struggle to feel happy
because the worlds so hard

and I sometimes forget
and the movement of blood

makes me feel alive

-r.y.s

Call me queer, call me *******
But is my ****** life really that important to you?
I don't call you ****-cuffin, ***** eater, nor hetero freak
So why must I be insulted for my *** life while you remain unscathed?

Call me ****** all you want,
But let's be honest, my life isn't easy
But I'm still here
My heart still beats
I'm still strong

Call me fairy to your little heart's content
But answer me this, could your heart bare the abuse of every kind  for almost a decade?
Could your "holy" self withstand standing alone in the dark without so much as a friend?
I'm a "sinner" and I've withstood all those horrors and still came out strong

Call me a disgrace, an abomination, a freak
But answer this you pretentious *******,
Who's the one cursing people, condemning, hating, discriminating them for being nothing more than who they are?
That's right, you, not me
So think again, who's your god going to punish?
People who have done nothing wrong but be themselves?
Or the ignorant fools who think they are God and condemn others?

Call me ******, call me queer
I know who I am, and it's someone strong

Call me *******, call me fairy
I'm the one who will survive
Call me all you want,
It won't change who I am

Feeling sober in a drunk world
Contact to the unseen
Crowds oblivious
Things lurk in eye corners

Upsets and pain coat the streets
Like Graffiti of fear
My eyelids like glass
Consciousness more a nightmare

Panic in a busy town
To those who wear masks
Fake people
The modern monsters

Conversations like banshees
The sound resonates my head
Left numb to life
Body fatigued from the brain.

O ****** little skirt,
A red so loud it burns my skin.
Such fine floral patterns,
And thorns that split human skin.

Wanders on a hill of red and green,
Falls into the hands of men with no mercy.
Stretched and pulled and stretched and pulled,
Like liquor rushing into hot capsules.

O ****** little skirt,
Trembles in the dark closet.
Pleasure and pain,  pleasure and pain,
Share the same red unmade bed.

O ****** little skirt,
Keep bleeding, keep bleeding.
O poor ****** little skirt,
What have you now?

One day,
I wish to
Exist as
Simply and peacefully as
The trees.

Tall, proud, noble, beautiful.
Sure of who I am,
And sure of my life.

Sure of who I am,
And sure of who I'll be.

me.gs