glare at me all you want grandma
but you know i'm just showing him I'm entitled to a life
and i'm tired of the lies
and shaking till i can't stand whenever he comes near.
tired of the misery and the boredom and fear.
tired of coming home at three
tired of having to hide the fact that i've learned to be me.

we need to stand up
and break off all these pairs of handcuffs
he's put on us over the years
before I get the **** out of here
and settle myself down thirty miles and a ferry
away from this place
where i don't have to see his face
or hear his words
which drown the world.

so *******, im gonna take a ****
at one-thirty in the ******* morning cause i'm tired of this.

Tired of you making yourself casserole at midnight
just to avoid the fright
of him slamming the door open
to scream about how you're wasting power using the oven
to make food he won't even eat.
first thing i'm gonna delete
as soon as i plant roots someplace else?
the memories of my own ******* father as the devil and this prison our hell.

we've gonna stand up and show him we're right
cause i'm tired of always losing the fight
and having to take a **** in the middle of the ******* night
to avoid his sight.

you're own son:
42 years and you're **** well done.
My father:
17 years of drifting farther
from him
on his own whim.

lets stand up
while our mind are still focused on this bump
that seems sewed
into our road

she smiles minutely as i sit down
just enough for me to wonder
what's going on in her head
just enough to make me take
a few extra seconds to say anything
but we have a short conversation
at a table with other people
and before I leave
I realize
I've ended up breaking down
some huge walls for her;
she was the first sunset beach walk
I took with any girl,
the first time i decided
I would explain my feelings face to face,
and that same day
my first near-seizure
where i ended up flopping around on the floor
of the school bathroom, alone.
She was the first girl to invite me
to a party of any sort,
the first house other than mine I ever entered
the first family to adopt me.
four years and one girl has changed me so much
I think
as I walk back to class
as I do every second period,
I'm a creature of habit
and I thank anyone who has ever made me try anything new
and break them.




©Brandon Webb
2012

Sometimes it seems like the only emotion
I ever see 100% of the time
is nervousness.
I have become a master at finding
those little nervous ticks-
chewed fingernails
face scratching
the occasional repetition of one word or another
the occasional downward glance.
sometimes i wonder
if I'm making this girl
(whichever girl)
tick like a clock about ready to explode
and leave it's arms loosing lying upon me
it's innards lying there in front of me
the inner workings, the inner thoughts exposed.
Or if her mind is just wandering to others
and i'm just the one sitting here ,
hoping to find a clock,
never knowing if i have,
my heart beating violently in my chest,
my nails already bitten to nubs,
small holes on my face and neck
where I've scratched the hair off
my hair pushed and pulled
this way and that by nervous hands,
my head **** near exploding with the thought
"opposites attract, but i need a ******* clock
before i myself explode
leaving my arms hanging loose in the air
and my innards raw and exposed
for more than just a lovers eyes"




©Brandon Webb
2012

He says
"we're close enough, lets just go"
and i agree, reluctantly
so we take a right
after we climb the hill and take the trail.
we end up on the main road
and walking along the white line
on the right side
we pass a bus stop and apartment complex
before we cross
walk a block
and take two more trails.

he knocks
each knock lessening in volume.
she opens the door
ten years old and wearing a blue dress
her six year old brother charges past to hug me
and pulls me inside
but he's the only one truly greeting me
I can see i'm not truly welcome
not today
when they form the
"guests can only stay in the living room" rule
just for us.

we have a good time
as we always do
but i catch a couple glares
even as we all dance across the living room floor
to some nightcore song.

All because of some Facebook message
that in it's simplicity meant:

"people are *******
but there's in a beauty in you that's only in you.
a beauty made when chopping onions and potatoes
for some type of bean cookies
while screaming at your siblings in a mix of spanish and english,
a smile on your lips
even as you drag a protesting six year old
across wood floors and carpets
to sit him down in his room alone
for doing backflips off the couch and into the shoe rack.
there's nothing more beautiful than lips stretched across teeth
in just that way,
the skin around your eyes gently wrinkling a little
and your eyes themselves open, clear and aware.
that is where the strongest beauty lies,
in a smile
and yours appears in the most beautiful of places
and that to me is truly mesmerizing"

I summarized that thought to her, greatly
I apologized at the end
I even said (truthfully)
that she is a great friend
and a wonderful sister.

but i keep catching two or three glares on me
as i sit on the couch
her brother flopping around on my feet
glaring at his seven year old sister standing on the couch
behind me, laughing.

"this is my real home"
I think, for a second
as i always do when i'm here
but they glare at me, quietly, secretly
saying that it isn't
at least, temporarily
and I hope this bubbles over fast
but i'm glad my words are bubbling
she deserved them
for chopping onions on the table
and having to scream at five wild siblings
while their mother works.

she works so hard,
and her smiling face while doing so
is more beautiful than even i can tell her.

most nights I'll say to myself
"someday somebody will find her who sees how beautiful she is"
some nights I tell myself
"get off you lazy *** and take a chance, you're already here"
But today I'm just being glared at for trying




©Brandon Webb
2012

half hour after midnight
and she says
"help, he loves me, and it's confusing me"
i try my hardest
but it was just yesterday
i left that note on her dresser
and i know she read it;
she didn't pretend like she didn't.
So
I'm crying
and shaking as i help.
then she says
"i'll just talk to you about it tomorrow"
and we say our good nights
and our see you tomorrows
and all that.
and i look back at my empty bed
still crying
and i don't stop,
can't stop
the tears just flow
and i can't stop shaking.
so i listen to sappy love songs
occasionally wiping my desk with kleenex.
an hour later i give up
and climb into my empty bed
still shaking
still crying
sometimes i wish she really knew
sometimes i wish someone did



©Brandon Webb
2012

I wanted to be there with her
downtown
before she had to work
so i could plant one on her at four
and say,"your mom grew up eight hours ahead of us.
so there's you new years kiss"
but i wasn't
i left her on facebook
with a quick,"brb"
cause i had to run to the store to buy biscuits for dinner,
and with my family,
that become a half hour trip
two blocks up the road.
I got back and she'd already left
so I watched the clock change to four,
went into the bathroom
and cut, a few times
not a full relapse.
just enough for blood,
not to feel anything,
not like i did a year ago,
screaming at the world
at the stroke up midnight,
one knife in my hand,
another somewhere on my dark bed
the neighbors riding their go-kart drunk outside.
I bite my lip
and keep my face looking rougher than most days anymore
but,
at midnight
I don't break.
And the tears and blood stay in my body tonight
leaving only old tears tracks
on my tired, bruised cheeks
and four recently dry scars
on my hairy, pre-scarred leg.
And i sit here in this worn office chair
watching peoples words flit by on this screen
when her name appears,
just home from work.
i didn't expect to see her,
but she stopped to simply wish me the best
before she collapsed onto her bed
after a long horrible day
that's left her so exhausted i can't even ask.
but she leaves and so do I
I hope she's smiling
half as much as I am,
but she probably isn't.
so I tell myself
"someday i'll make it so she is, because of me".
Sometimes the promises to myself that I'm sure are impossible
are the ones that help me fall asleep,
and I'm asleep before I hit the mattress




©Brandon Webb
2012

You've read my rant from yesterday
About those Christmas Letters
But one thing just disturbs me
Those Ugly Christmas Sweaters!!!

You know the ones we love to hate
They're  all so scratchy and they itch
You can barely get the **** thing on
And to remove it...it's a *****!!

Pictures of things Christmassy
Like a reindeer all in red
Mine looks like an emaciated cow
with a candelabra on his head

Snowflakes, trees and Norway Spruce
and colours....oh my lord
They can take them back to Norway
and throw them in the fjord!!!

My nan made one for me one year
It was silver with some blue
Turns out she used old brillo pads
Because she liked the soapy hue

They itch and scratch and don't fit right
They are a cancer to my eyes
I had one in green and red
With one sleeve down past my thighs

I thought it was a jumpsuit
The kind the paratroopers wear
The pattern pages stuck together
And that sleeve....went down to there!!!

We all have one hidden away
In a box, 'neath lock and key
In a place so nicely hidden
One we've had since we were three

We never plan to wear one more
We all know that we once  did
but, if we had to wear one out
We're gonna buy one for our kids!!!

If you need to get assistance
go to uglysweaters dot o- r- g
They can help you with your wardrobe
Tell them you heard of them from me.

her stare her voice so sweet

last year i remembered we talked we poured our hearts out

i was a great friend to you but all you did in the end was walk away

because i truly loved you at the time i didnt make my move when we hung out

well i moved on i said good bye to you i no longer do but those memorys made me who i am today

one day we can be friends again whenever but right now you dont want to even try so whats the point

now i walk the line of the nice guys who failed but this war does not involve you it didn't have to end with silence one day i want answers to finally to learn the ways of a crazy year gone wrong