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To live is to be marked
To own the words of a story
Is it who's genes fall where?
   Or the pains we bear?
Is it the way we fare?
   Or the words we dare?

What makes the "love" Love?
   What feathers a dove?
What makes you wear that glove
   That keeps you from Love?

Do we make you hostile
   And storm down your mile?
Have we filled you with bile
   And forced your "Sieg Heil"?

Tell, how long must we wait
   For a bouncing gait?
Will your demons abate,
   Or have you ****** fate?

Some hold on to the hope
   That with time you'll cope;
They keep feeding you rope--
   I say, "******* nope!"

I gave you inches-- feet
   And with it I'm beat.
I'll watch you bite the teet,
   Silent in my seat.

Since you won't share my genes,
   Still stuck in your teens,
You can't care for our fare--
   Have no words to dare.

You're the feather-less dove
   Never to rise above.
They gave you unjust bile
   And you praised, "Sieg Heil!"
We like to sit together and eat
As a family.
I sit by myself towards the wall
With a half portion.

I'd like a cup of milk with it
And they oblige me.
The chicken is covered in fat
And I don't need that.

My weight means nothing to my gait--
I bounce like a cloud,
My head on my concrete-padded cell
That feel like giggles.

Out the doorway without a door
My friends keep an eye,
Because suicide is no joke
If I could stop laughing

I wanna nap-- no wait, I'll play.
I'll sit through this day
Til I get my shoe laces back:
Then I'll save my day

I drowned my sister twice,
Left hand, then the right.
Bubbles in the water like
A straw in Nesquik

Yeah, it was mean, but I'm nice, right?
We two are buddies,
You look and smell just like Shaggy,
Won't you play with me?

I drowned my sister twice
No, it wasn't nice.
And my brother drowned me must once
And that wasn't nice.

Once, lying under the cotton,
We were joined by Dad.
I kicked and scratched and screamed, "No, no!"
And then it's mumble.

My daddy proceeds to beet me,
And the his scratches...
My legs are boiling brown bruises,
But I'm still nice, right?

I drowned my sister twice
And fought off a shark.
My fists ****** from broken teeth
Start me towards shore.

The shark's mom and dad in pursuit,
I'm nearly done now
When a dolphin comes and saves me!
But never saved her.

I drowned my sister twice
I wrote this based on an observation I did at an intensive mental health facility for troubled kids. I'd like to dedicate this poem to Chris, a loveable young "psychotic" boy.
I say "come what may"
To the river, Me,
For I cannot stay,
Yet, can never leave

You ask, "pain or joy?"
I say "let it be"
For words will annoy--
And cloud what you see

Instead, I say "play"
Strive only for glee
But if it's at bay
I say, "let it be"
Poetry is Dead.
She's fled our consumer lives--
Back to the Muses
So I guess I'm saying it seems,
That no, it's not by my dreams,
that from my reading of the scenes--
You've still got feelings for me

And I know how you'll say say say
It's only a crush of May,
And that surely we must delay--
Wait for your permanent gay

But I'm sure you must know know know
That the wind will never not blow
That it will shake you to and fro
And will never let you go

Yes, you could wait for Tomorrow
And try so hard to swallow
The feels you feel, my Great Sorrow,
But one day you'll have to go

And follow the gales where they blow
Into the caverns below
And shine the light you dare not show,
And from that you'll surely grow.

I just hope it won't be alone.
And can you believe,
The horrible glee
With which his lips licked.
Dreaming-- carcass picked,

Reveling wholly.
Dismissing Holy
Enlightened beings,
Sinking in Needing.

Black black smack, alack!
I'm a crack-gack hack!
Or, mayhaps, I'm not?
Or, perhaps, just caught,

In nauseous verde waves
Of fanciful raves--
Rants all entertained--
I say makes me drained.

Baudelaire's half-baked,
Chatterton-- cracked
Morally, sorely
Standing half-poorly

But standing up still,
Avoiding the thrill
Of desert mirage,
It's poison barrage!
the heart aches
like
earthquakes.

today
i allowed myself to feel
heartbreak
one very last time for you.

the sun was settling,
silhouetting the city

it felt like
the burial site of massacred dreams.

— The End —