I have the unfortunate belief that
my self-worth lies in the quality of my hair.
It may sound ridiculous, but it's true.

Go ahead, touch my hair.
I feed off of your fascination
-though I remain engaged only as long as you do-
my tolerance for my hair is equivalent to its length.

I once had someone tell me
"I like your hair better straight"
And that was when fifth grade ruined me.

I thought by changing they would accept me.
And Daniel would like me like he liked Taylor
and all of my likes would be returned and
Eddie would choose me because we were best friends
and I had the fortune of being beautiful
but I wasn't allowed to be beautiful to him because
I have this hair.

People wonder why I spend hours with an iron.
But when you're so different that
boys won't like you because your hair is curly
and you teeth are crooked you have no choice but to
change the things that are in your power.

I could never make myself fully white
But I sure as hell can straighten my hair
and let Mamaw buy me braces.
They can call you giraffe neck still,
but at least your hair is straight like everyone else.

Yes, you like to touch it and it's "neat" and it's "soft"
But why on earth should that matter to me?
People respect my hair because it is mine.
But he will not love it unless it is like hers-
wind-caught silk that hangs to her waist.

I weep for my hair.
I weep for my hair.

You do not understand how different it is.
You do not understand how hard it is
to stick out like a sore thumb because your
genetics were oppressed for 500 years.

I am ugly
Because of my hair.
No number of people telling me of its beauty will matter
because I cannot see it.

He cannot see it either.

I had a dream
that you tried to **** me with a hammer.



I guess this means you don't love me.

I stole glances at you as we walked
under the moon and grey clouds.

You smiled when I did,
and I like to think you were smiling when I wasn't looking too.

The amount of words
Shared in a stare
Is nearly infinite
Take special care.

Ride the moment
And walk away knowing
Communication
Naturally flowing.

I wasn't prepared
When I embraced your eyes
False, deceitful,
Composed of lies.

Everything I knew
Stripped away
With your emotionless stare
Pools of gray.

I exist to assist
To guide to light
To stop the fist,
And expel the fight.

I set trapped free,
Help the troubled cope,
I answer their plea,
Replenish their hope.

Yet my Nature I hide,
As to not be used.
Deception I ride,
For I've been abused.

I have good intent,
Don't test my 'strain
Though from above sent
I will cause pain.

Living day to day
From one event to another
Ghosts haunting every footstep

is this any way to live?

belief is a double-edged sword
and the rate of blood loss
is much higher than
the rate of blood transfusion

breathe

in
out


breathe

it's just one more day

To be addicts
we are fated
always thirsty
never sated.

Bliss in a cup
Coffee is required
similar to a drug
It keeps us wired.

He's running
a circus
casino.

Open to the ages,
smoke at your leisure.

"You can't have a circus without a tent!"
Watch him,
he got high without dope.
He killed god without faith,
and did apathetically,
because his mom wouldn't have liked it.

He throws up in the sink
because his girl is throwing up
in the toilet.

He knows he shouldn't be here long,
but *******, the dope is strong
and *******, he has nowhere else to go.

It's a riddle, Hazel Grace,
and nobody gives a ****.

How Long is a Chinese man
and I came home to find my mother passed out
on the kitchen floor.

An empty bottle of Jack hides in plain sight,
so I steal money from her purse to buy
pleasure and delusional sequences
and I can't seem to think about anything but you.

This isn't romantic,
this is as disgusting and ****** as the scars on my wrists,
this is as twisted and cruel as the decomposing corpse
of my neighbor's cat
in the parking lot across the street.

Don't touch me,
please,
I'll start to like you
and then I'll kiss you
and then I'll start to love you
and then you'll ****** me and make my hands shake.

I want you to write about me,
I want it to be blunt
and truthful
and I want it to hurt.
I want it to leave me gasping for breath
and I want to remember it
when I'm ******* that girl who ****** your ex-boyfriend.

Shut up Meg