Existence.
It's such a weird thing to have.
We don't ask for it,
We don't all want it,
And yet we have it.
Some are given the "gift" of existence because they were created to be loved.
We are given life through the intimacy of others.
We didn't ask to be here.
Put on this earth to suffer until we finally give up or give in.
We give up this beautiful life that we are given by neglecting all of the beautiful things we are capable of.
We give in to being dull and gray.
Each day we go to the same place, do the same thing, and see the same sights.
This makes us weak and emotionless.
Broken beings that have lost that beauty of existence.
We give in to the destroying and demeaning words from strangers.
We let them destroy this beauty inside of us,
We let them **** our hope.
But why?

it'll settle down before long.
in the left half-plane our
distorted polarities glisten and,
naturally,
all mechanisms leak:
the house gets colder,
the radio becomes static,
we
consistently feel different.

how'd daylight get so aphasic?
where were we when words
struck gold, moved out,
found a better life?

and all the while
the transfer function of our insides
slunk so out of sync;
i guess i'm kind of sorry.
'cause
the last transient to fade
would be you,
but,
you know
how unsigned possibilities,
cupped in our palms,
seep out, like

i leave the windows open
all night long.

I wake up.

I go to my window.

The Sun is out.

But not For Long.

The Smog is Creeping in.

That ****** toxic cloud.

Filled with poison. Filled with Sadness. Filled with Pain. Filled with Destruction. Filled with Anger. Filled with Loss.

Full of Fear. Full of Hurt. Full of Death. Full of Worry. Full of Hate. Full of Darkness.

The Wonders of the World are gone and have been replaced by the trillion terrors.

The Sun is out, But the Smog is rolling in.

So I walk. I walk.

I am Outside Now and I see That ****** Cloud slithering in front of that beautiful sun.

And I breathe. I inhale the ugliness. The Branches of my Lungs begin to wither as that cloud invades my body. I breathe and I breathe, never exhaling. My eyes begin to tear. My body becomes weak.

But I keep breathing. I breathe for my brothers, for my sisters, for my fathers, for my mothers, I Breathe.

I breathe for my sons and for my daughters. I breathe for all. I breathe in the disgust so they don’t have to. So they NEVER have to.

I choke.

And as my body becomes a shell and my soul decides to depart. My Brothers, My Sisters, My Fathers, My Mothers, My Sons, My daughters, they breathe in to me.

They give me purity and strength through air that has never tasted so sweet.

They bring me back and they carry me inside where I lie down next to my wife, next to my husband.

And I sleep.

With a Smile on My Face.

i'm in love with a boy
but i change my pronouns to say that
i love her
because of the ones who cannot do so.
because of the lovers who have to hide.
because of the injustice people have done to people.
we are all equal in birth, but live in an unequal society.
i am simply another girl who loves a boy.
no questions asked.
no awkward glances, no stiff hands to shake.
no glares, no whispers.
because i'm privileged enough
to be on the side of love that someone deemed
acceptable.
and because i don't agree with having to pick and choose who you get to love
based on their possession of particular parts.
you love someone for their energy, their personality.
the way they hold you in the night.
the trust you share, the bonds you make.
you love them because you are you and they are they.
she loves her.
he loves him.
she loves him.
he loves her.
or her. or him.
the pronouns
should not
seem odd
to us.
but our society majorly consists of
gritted teeth and
disapproving eyes.
and because of this,
because i love someone
of the opposite gender,
and because i do not
suffer from any hate,
i will quietly fight
the cookie-cutter
for you
with pronouns
and poems.

I do not hate you.  
                                                       But I wish that I did.

(Maybe it would make this
     aching loneliness
easier to accept
if I understood
why

you were not worth
      the love
                  you lost.)

being a discarded paper bag
in a sunbleached ditch roadside
moment, i rode past on the
stifled cycled exhaust fumes of
the intercity from oamaru back
home: second home, fifth home; how
many times have i left home,
now? being a stinging
sensation in the back of the
throat of some lost child
(me), some lost ******
human (obviously
me), this is the only thing
i'll ever regret being a
{oh, i am just a}
thought process cycling,
stifled, thinking, through
ultraviolet-polarised perspex
there, with
you with him, and he's
making you smile, and my
head hurts
just
a little more and i
fall
a little further down, like
apples drop from trees, like
lies drop from your insides,
and i mutter something stupid and true,
like: "i'll get over it this
time" and stay still stay
still, i will get over it this
time, just i, yours {never} truly. so, do
you get that feeling
like you're losing something,
(because i don't need you)
like you're caught mid-fading,
(because i don't want you)
but you can't figure out why?

i hope you feel it in your smile
tonight, darling.

you give me butterflies
butterflies made of antifreeze
butterflies made of fish hooks
    i don't like you
       i don't like you
    i need to throw up
  i think i love you
but i really just don't like you
    because you twist my arm
           with heavy wrenches
    but never break the skin
    and i have
      a thing for blood
     i guess
           'cause
i'm too ******* lazy to
      throw myself off a bridge
   in front of a train
           on fire with smoke signal
            "*******"s trailing behind me
but who cares
who cares, really?
           love is all fish hooks
       in the eyes of the devil so
         i'll save
              the last waltz in hell
                           for you, honey.