v-v-vaporwave aesthetic and s-s-sorrow
and **** baby i just wanna live like life ends tomorrow
i like the pretty boys and i like the pretty girls
and their picture-perfect instagram teeth shining like pearls
they all love the way the car goes to roar
as we race away hiding from college loan gore
take a knife, take a pill, i hope-i swear to die
if by the end of all this **** i can't even go to cry

give me the ******* battle-flag and let me pledge allegiance.
let the boys cry, let the girls sing, let the old-folk mumble and groan,
but give me your trials, your tribulations, and let us go to war.

we are losing to an enemy with no god, no hell, no entropy but the one we--
make
and the world will end in fifty years if we don't do something;
collapse under the weight of its student loans,
its political polarization,
its religious animosity and identity politics,
its carbon emissions slowly melting the ice cap.
**** your pity, **** your intellectual debate,
and pick up the life-water in your hands and help the thirsty.
people die while you pretend they don't exist.

give the ******* battle-flag, bitter neighbor,
i'm pledging to not ******* it up like your generation did.

and i'm waiting for the day
that your kisses will feel like cold steel on my throat,
and your tongue will be tasting the ashes in my mouth,
and your fingers will burn bulletholes in my skin,
and your eyes will hold nothing but despair and apathy for me.
the freckles on my cheeks will lose their charm,
and you will grow weary of my laughter and my arm around you.

because you and i both know, lover, that this will implode
and it will be so terrifying beautiful when it does
(just like how we've always been, dancing with the edge of fate).

her name was ever-so-lovely, ever-so-light, ever-so-sweet
and your name was problem child, troublemaker, never-fit-in.
i loved you both--
but not the same.

she was darling of the class, a-student, charming, compassionate, attentive;
you were flawed, pulled out of class, screamed at, split apart, lonely.
she went to dances in beautiful dresses and ceremonies like a little star
and you skipped them all, staying home, quiet, writing-always-writing.
i was stricken by her beauty--scared by it, entranced, could not understand--
and took too long to ever notice yours.

(the first time anyone ever touched her was loving, gentle, planned;
you were barely twelve and your best friend puts fingers in places you didn't fully understand yet. you were always second to her boyfriend, though.)

i trailed after her for two longmiserablelonely years and never found a thing from any of it, any of it.
you, though, you flirted with me in class and touched my shoulder
and so often you'd reach out to my hair and look at me with that look,
love.
she was the first i confessed deep dark secrets to,
but you were the first i made them with.
i miss her sometimes, her radiance, her sunshine, the way she smiled
ever-so-pretty
like a barbie doll almost broken beyond recognition.
you and i fixed each other together,
you, trouble child, problem child, inattentive, daydreamer, not-enough;
me, *******, perfectionist, procrastinator, obsessive, compulsive, not-enough
never-enough-enough-enough.

you are the most brilliant beautiful wonderful person i know.
(and i will never tell you that i loved her first
because i know it would break your heart, angel.)
i'm in love with you, though, uniquely, undeniably, terrifyingly.
(i loved you second but i love you more;
i loved you less instantly but i love you more honestly, more sincerely--
and you too love me in return.)

the only problem you've ever been for me
is me wondering how i ever got lucky enough to hold you in my arms.

please don't talk to me about how i'm feeling
please just--
hold me a little bit longer, a little bit closer,
a little bit less like i'm tearing your soul from your heart
and more like i put it back together (because i did, i helped);

your blue eyes are brighter than a fast food sign even when they're glazed
like a sloppy coat of paint
and your breath stills feels like summer's relief,
but your kisses are stilted and hesitant,
like you're as consumed with concern as i am,
and dearest love, we only have the energy for one of us to fall apart
at a time.

(can i have my turn first?)

you never look quite enough like yourself--there's an edge of a mask,
something in the way you smile--
and i'm afraid of what's underneath.

(way-back-when--when we were kids--you never smiled like that, and now it's the only smile you have to give.)

(stop smiling and cry a little, will you?)

you're a ****-no-good-fool-liar as my mother would've called you,
          and by god i was the fool who knew.
i almost loved you--once, when we were younger kids still,
          when the girl of your dreams turned you down,
          and i asked you for a date.
even now i'm not really surprised by what you did.

you were the first boy i ever kissed (not the last) and we had no idea how--
         i hesitated, and you didn't; but once there we stayed on flickers of
         endorphins and energy that i know now weren't really there.

and looking back i wonder if i was keeping you from the edge--
        you hid your drinking problem for me (not that i ever--ever--
                             (--would've shamed you for it--)
        and told me later that you never drank while we were together,
        that you were clean, that you were engrossed in me
                     and your **** musical theatre.
you didn't lie about that, but when i found you with another girl,
         when i saw the way your eyes dropped to your feet and swelled with
         tears you didn't deserve to cry?
i left you, and i didn't regret it.

i never have.
i wonder, dear, if you're drowning in your lies the same way you used to drown in the bottle?
i hope not--but you chose to make it your problem only.

we move on--hopefully you're not sunken in your basement
        with only the flow of your hidden whiskey to keep you company.

crusaders
christianized, zealous warmongers with ****** stains on stainless steel blades
hauling with them the great flapping insignias of royalty, emblems of their special heritage
disregarding the fact blood flows warm and fast all the same, nobody spared
familiar ties shattered over petty disputes of land and territory in the name of a great purpose
a great purpose disguising glory-seekers and painters whose favorite color is red
led by a massive snowy warhorse with crimson hooves and jet black beady eyes
old, worn, and of a raggedy golden mane forever worshipped
it is my fate to follow
(that’s what they tell me)

crusaders
biblical storytales springing to life as they gallivant across the country singing do-goods
while their actions connotate some great demon lurking about behind their holy words
valiant warriors in service to a mighty omnipresent deity watching woefully from above
as they unnecessarily **** innocents that they knew it was wrong to ******
blind belief is as alive as bloodlust to them, screaming their lungs out for the almighty
they are the salvation and the scourge, leeches of the land and lordly leaders for long
fearful eyes of aliens stare to the sky and grovel in a piteous attempt for mercy
he cannot condone this
(and that’s what they don’t)

crusaders
knights of cardboard armor and ironclad skulls falling by the thousands
yet they relentlessly hunt the enemy like predatory raptors of the past, voracious
not yet declawed or defanged as they are before the plastic wisdom of man claiming to be
the god of glory, gold, and gore; suddenly he is a savage ravager and avenger of the undead
men swear themselves to a cloaked idol in order to become accusers of the guilty
when the openness of perception may be all that is truly necessary
even kings are defenseless against the all-consuming force of religious blessing
how is it just?

crusaders
god’s greatest success
crusaders
god’s greatest regret
(am i both or neither?)