Some few things you should know about me
if ever I manage to capture your love.

To me, there is no such thing as casual ***
nor casual relationships, nor casual love.

It may not seem like that on the surface,
I may be able to act the part of what society
has told you to expect of a man...boy...thing.

But in truth I sit awake writing about everything
that touches me so deeply that it hurts.

Things that make me happy come with a price
called guilt, and that guilt drives me to abandon.

Stupid reasons and stupid logic born from
things done and almost done that I watched
so detached from myself that I couldn't believe it was real.

If you love me, don't ever tell me
don't do that to yourself.

I knew you would forget, just as soon as the sun would rise,
But your words, cliché and hollow, came as no surprise.
I asked but one small favor, at both break and close of day,
Just to hear you say hello, but now, hope's bled away.

You pride yourself on being an Instagram ******.
To hide the fact that you're a scholastic flunkie.
Your body may be skinny, but your attitude is chunky.
But that doesn't matter, your boyfriend is hunky.
You're just another member of this generation.
Using social media to seek validation.
Unwilling to join the societal relegation.
You snap another selfie to provide esteem inflation.

Congratulations on finally being Instafamous!
Appealing to all, from beauty to heinous.
Leading the change to a society of nameless.
With actions to show that you are truly shameless.

As a child, Mom and Dad said it was "just a phase."
Growing up, you lived the life that was "all the rage"
But now that your face has taken center stage.
It's time to see how your true colors have aged...
Instagram should name a filter after you,
For all the nights that you went through,
Matching the right lighting and tone
For people to view on their telephone:
Your perfect hair,
Your perfect eyes,
That perfect smile,
Conceiling lies.
Your perfect body,
Your perfect chest,
Convince them all,
That you're the best.
2000 men,
And many more,
Still totally think,
You're an instawhore!

Congratulations on finally being Instaqueen,
The idol to girls under seventeen.
A product raisedon a Disney screen,
Maybe now you'll get what they truly mean...

Oh baby,
i dont need medicine,
i dont need a pill,
i just need you, the only drug
to calm me, chill.

Even though the words hurt,
stabbing me myriadly at one time,
even though the blood spurt,
i'll just repeat the - it is okay, i'm fine.

Why you are not here?
soothing the things that are severe,
those phrases, those sentences
i am sure it was sincere.

Oh baby,*
i dont need medicine,
i dont need a pill,
i just need you, the only drug
to calm me, chill.

We are the ones who paint with words
thoughts and feelings soaring like birds,
horrors, dreams and things of the night
indelibly scribed for your delight

furrowed brows are forced to think
in pastel shades and jet black ink
scrawled in haste in an hour of need
raw nerves scraped until they bleed,

there is no cure or magic pill
we lost our freedom to the quill  
slicing our souls down to the bone
to leave a legacy carved in stone.

I have been recollecting our shards
Shattered glass of incandescent past
And I do not care if it cuts
My porcelain hands do not feel
For you have drained my blood
I have nothing left to bleed
But somehow I'm glad that
If you are reading this by any chance
Know that I didn't love you just once
From the first meeting until the last
And all the days in between
My love will stay unthawed
Frozen and locked here



-Petrified Heart, Margaret Austin Go

The cacophony of noise is infuriating
Grinding teeth
like bars of steel clashing
Severing my senses
Burning embers, churning coals
My lungs filled
with Steam and Ashes
Searing consciousness
My arms flailed
Writhing uncontrollably in vain
But you fueled these clogs
Suddenly, I'm tamed
I hope you remember
How we toiled our hearts that November
How we would never let it slip
And how many castles we built
then demolished them quick
Crushing bricks
But we are born liars
And it's impossible to alleviate
Unending chain of regrets
As I run backwards in denial
I try to forget
That I am actually dead



-Clinical Death, Margaret Austin Go

You finally let me call you
Girlfriend. So
I do until I forget
Your name.

I carve our initials
Into grateful trees
Until I cannot see the
Forest for the love.

Climb. I'll catch you
If.
I have arms to save
Worlds.
Growl at me during a bad
Day; my heart is too callused

To bleed from involuntary
Cuts.
We all carry blades; scissor
Hands also reach
Out for comfort.

You finally call me boyfriend.
I am.
Ask the trees.
Ask their beautiful scars.

My shoulders were weak
From being there for myself
To lean on,

So I let my guard down
And **** well cried onto
Her naked skin,

Whispering between sobs
I'm so tired. Just...
So tired.

Not my most manly  
Of moments. Not the
Least, either.