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My love is a judge.
A cold judge with a heart made of stone.
You couldn't call it love.
The more appropriate word would be test.
My love is a test
Put forth by the judge.

If I move away,
If I speak quietly or
If I don't speak at all
It is all held against me.
Evidence for the other side.

My love seems so hopeless,
Like catching and trapping air
In my bare hands.

He wants me;
It seems like he really wants me
And I want him, so badly,
But I can't.
I've tried to speak up for myself
But my words travel to the back of my mind
Instead of streaming out of my mouth,
Like the butterflies always nestled
In my stomach.

Love is a risky thing.
I can't picture us being together
Without whispering and ridicule.
It's so beautiful
But at the same time so horrible.

Love is a drug,
An ecstasy.
So distracting that you forget your friends.
And for what?
One look.
A voice,
A gorgeous, but hesitant voice;
A mystery.
That mystery that pulls you out of bed each morning,
And brushes your teeth.
But love was,
Is
And will always be
Nothing.
I’m singing his song.
I’ll be singing his song.
My lips are singing that song,
So why do I think this is wrong?

Yeah, my lips are singing
And the air from my lungs, like a
Sigh makes my voice start a-ringing
Why do you blame it on me?
It’s my lips, my lungs, my face,
My teacher that carry the music.

It’s not like I’m having your baby
(Besides, I’m too much of a lady).
I’m just singing that song;
Your song.

What’s the big deal?
It’s not like I’m a seal
And you’re the ringmaster.
I’m a sea lion woman
And no one can tell me otherwise
(Except *****).

No, no, no, no, no, no!
It’s just fear;
A simple word,
A simple anagram for fare.
Food isn’t bad.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!
I’m afraid that the one moment I have
To show what I’m made of
Will just reveal
Cracked vocal chords,
Notes sung off-key,
Wobbling words,
A rushed rhythm, racing to
Finish the song,
Incompetence,
Failure,
And it’s all on purpose.

I don’t want to sing your song;
At least not well.
I don’t want to sing that song of yours;
The one you know you’d ask me to sing.
I don’t,
And I probably shouldn’t,
But I will.
If you want me to.
Written April 28, 2008, while I was in high school.  Someone asked me to perform (sing) a song he had written for music class.  I had a crush on him and, in my utter shyness and awkwardness, I found the entire situation uncomfortable and stressful.  It seems a bit whiny in retrospect.
You strip naked and then
Display your protruding ribs and your gentle curves
Bask in the lust and admiration of drooling men
Glued to their MacBooks, fingers pressed to nerves

You think you are a *** symbol
Your beauty commands respect
Strong and nimble
Attention simply what you expect

But you’re wrong about your power
You’re weak, tied with a tether
A fragile, dainty flower
Crumbling under a feather

You do what they tell you to do

Tiny **** are better than sagging thighs
Body hair like buzzing flies
Cellulite
Overnight
You are a socialite

Swallow pills so hearty
Starve day after day as you become more vein
Stay up all night at parties
Prolong the pain

Hover over the toilet below
Half crying, half vomiting, hungover
Your guilty pleasures are reality shows
The Biggest Loser, Extreme Makeover

Love, *** and lust
Drive you to do this
Or maybe you just want trust
For someone to care instead of dismiss

The powder from the thick white sponge invades your nostrils
It is the bread, your red nail polish the wine
Vogue and Cosmo your glossy gospels
Your closetful of designer shoes a shrine

Cocktail dresses and Gucci are your new burger and draught
Finding nourishment in Martinis, icy words
Why do you think this will make up for your past?
All it does is make it worse
Sky tinged blue and pink, clouds drifting high
Like a cheery pre-school
Walking under the nine o’clock cotton candy sky
I journey to the pool

So safe in the water’s arms
Techno music playing like the sound of an alarm
Water caresses my feet like silk
Tonight the dolphin is of my ilk

Humans so fish-like when they swim
Power and finesse, bodies smooth and slim
Quick graceful flips as they turn around for another lap
I long for the slippery speed of the swimming caps

I would be so naked on land
My fat thighs like a black brand
But in the water I am beautiful
Even the most vigorous stroke strangely blissful

Ten o’clock as the empty complex prepares to sleep for the night
Ten o’clock and fast food chains, cars, street lamps, cell phones provide the light
I have much longer to go
Before I rest my head upon the pillow

Inhaling the sweet smell of chlorine
As I pass by the pool like a patient full of codeine
Body so empty, purged of excess weight
Mind wondering whether it can still stay up late

Body so limp and useless after swimming
Eyes blurring, hair wet and ears ringing
The sky is dark blue like water twenty feet below the ocean surface
Blue half-obscured by black clouds and for once I am not nervous

Tonight life is a dream
I am covered with a shield, a stream
Of water, faintness and fatigue
Tonight I am infallible, full of intrigue
Cardboard and colour
Voices altered with equipment
Just paper and ink
But it is so special to me
I watch as he is assembled from raw materials
Black pen
Markers
Pro Tools
Adobe
Microphones
Cameras
Clicks of the mouse
They gain meaning in seconds
Create a life
Something so close to life
And truth
In the animation studio
They have no idea what they have done to me
How they have possessed me
Locked in my bedroom for days
He is ready to haunt my dreams
As I recreate the narrative in my head
Alter it
Play with my love object
The soundtrack softly playing in my mind
Every nuance replicated
More in love with him than any human
After all
Could any human ever be so perfect?
I watch his every move on screen
Drink up every detail around him
So it is locked in my memory
Every character in every book becomes him
Every situation, every plot described to me is tainted with his presence
He keeps me up late at night
I burn his face into my memory
My soul
About animated fictional characters and how people can become very obsessed with them.
Ben Kowalewicz (spoken): Hi, my name is Ben Kowalewicz and this is Billy Talent.

Well I tripped, I fell down naked
I drank from a cup of lead
I hugged a skunk, it peed on me
Yesterday I joined Scientology

Steal a Camaro, then **** Jack Sparrow
Try stupid ****, try stupid ****
Jump in a dump truck, smell **** and get stuck
I cannot read, I cannot read
**** on computers, then drink some pewter
Die sanity, die sanity
Marry a cheapskate, gain ninety pounds weight
I'm really dumb, I'm really dumb

I'm stupid, it's my fault, so daft
I like to play in the garbage shaft
The best sport is Parkour, **** straight
I arrive at work five hours late

Drink a deep fryer, eat some barbed wire
Try stupid ****, try stupid ****
Sleep in a fireplace, burn your entire face
I cannot read, I cannot read
Cinnamon challenge, go on a chalk binge
Die sanity, Die sanity
Bike into traffic, pose pornographic
I'm a *******, I'm a *******

I ate some poo!

I'm stupid, it's my fault
Try
I'm stupid, it's my fault
Lie
This bad song don't make sense
Pie

Get a Prince Albert, snake blood for dessert now?
Drink some Everclear, cut off your own ear now?

Go back in time to, forties as a Jew
Try stupid ****, try stupid ****
Do *** and rip off your right knee
I cannot read, I cannot read
Find the KKK, put on some blackface
Die sanity, die sanity
Locate a pervert, then take off your shirt
I am a twit, I am a twit

I am a twit, I am a twit
Try stupid ****, try stupid ****
I am a twit, I am a twit
Parody of Billy Talent's song "Try Honesty."  About people who do really stupid things.  The first line was added by me to poke fun at *******.
The snow melts to reveal sad assortments of garbage
Strewn along the sidewalks like a ***** bricolage
The geese occupy our emptying quad
Each is a blessed sign from your god

The early bird rises far before the dawn
Bragging in bird-tongue about his perfect lawn
Global warming shows its ugly face
And the weather becomes a temperamental disgrace

Moving trucks and vans headed toward the interchange
Each summer my peers look forward to happy change
To work or not to work, that is the question
But often work is more than just a suggestion

April is the time of transitions
The time of decisions
Move from brain to body
From student to entry-level nobody

It’s nice work if you can get it
But every year I forget it
Wait until the last minute
Get hired just in time to quit

Exams and singing
Farewells and resume printing
Interviews and bargaining
All these things remind me of spring

Longing glances across the fluorescent lights of the store
I long with everything I have for him to cross the floor
Every year we interact but nothing more
But every year I hope the power goes out so I can be his *****

Well, roll up your sleeves
It’s time to produce!
Five months away from the tuition-grabbing thieves
So there’s absolutely no excuse!
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