I really like money, is that a shame?
If you don’t have money, is your boss to blame?
I want to keep my dollars,
I got bills to pay,
Less taxes, more money,
Hip Hip Hooray!

They said
    "there's no one else here, so we'll use you"
but even after
  hair and makeup,
they snapped 3 pics
        and refused "no more"
for even when there are no other options,
  I am still not good enough.

She is glory
    the girl with dark hair
she is music
    in her red pants
she is lyrical
    twirling through the crowd
she is inspiration
    eyes closed, smiling,
she is soul
    the girl who stomps her feet

It has been seven months since I have posted a poem,
Seven months since I have closed a tome.
Signed and sealed, a book collecting dust,
My gilded cage open, now collecting rust.

High School heat gave way to the gentle ocean's wisdom,
My life has taken such a turn, **** no word rhymes with wisdom.
Maybe I no longer have such a need for these words,
When I look back I think maybe poems are for nerds.

Nerds and artists who take themselves too seriously,
And seriously what the **** rhymes with seriously?
But too seriously is not how I have learned to look at me,
I am slowly learning to be ok with being free.

Health and life and joy and passion,
I have opened myself up in a quite painful fashion.
And I must learn to be kind to my past distractions,
I must learn to embrace  how I was divided in fractions.

Fractions that now are becoming whole,
And how beautifully the word whole rhymes with soul.
My soul which no longer desires depressions,
But a soul that is willing to ask these questions.

Love and aching still burst my chest,
The weight of my youth can drown out the rest.
But I have healed and grown in these seven months,
****, I have done it again, nothing rhymes with months.

when she lays claim to you
(as only she can-
quickly, quietly, and through you)
she approaches me as an afterthought,
as if the damage done can be repaired
by this self satisfactory spewage,

as if the rising rage can be appeased
by convenient confession,

as if that would make me not want to knock the simpering smile from her ******* face,

as if.

looking at you is my least favorite game.
you smile and nod in my direction and i wonder if you can hear my chest cave in like a condemned house every time i hear you laugh.

was this expected? yes.
but it still aches nonetheless.