The ice cream van
Has today reached
The melancholic realisation
That the only kids who
Chase clocks for Mr Whippy
And lick the exhaust fumes
In nostalgia
Are the kids who are not kids
But who prematurely aged themselves
With lipstick kisses
And cigarettes
Lowered themselves into nooses
Of sweet-sixteenths
From the age of six

We are a generation of
Peter Pan inversions
We ran ashore
And beached ourselves
Beyond the lure
Of Neverland
We are a generation of
Failed cloud-catchers
Aspiring rainbow-clinchers
Secretly slipping our hands
Back into a dead air
Of former innocence
In the hope we’ll be able to
Retrieve the pieces we left there
We queue and scramble
Like gulls for
Inches we can claw back
Preserving our age in
Wafer cones
And bleeding snows
That glue between our fingers
Each 99 flake
Is a time machine
Which we spin like a music box
And wait for the rewind
Copper coins and sea stains
And we hope we’ll find
Some of the things we lost
But we cannot predict or realign
The atoms or twist ourselves
Back into them
So we sit and watch
The incorruptibility we once possessed
Perished
Sexualised
Corrupted
Pool in the March drizzle
Someone once said
That youth was a process
Of being torn in half
By the past that pulls you back
And the future that tempts you
Being too big and yet too small
Longing but fearing
But an ice cream van tells me
That youth is a process
Of trying not to drown yourself
In what you’ve never had
And when that ice cream van tells me to
MIND THAT CHILD
I can’t help projecting echoes
Of its wisdom
On to all who pass me by
Mind that childhood
Before there’s nothing left to mind

Don't be so angry.  The world owes you nothing. It isn't trying to hurt you or make you wear how unfair it is on your wrists forever. It didn't ask for you to exist,  so don't curse it for the day you were born on, or act like it's an inconvenience around others for you to breathe and murmur and stare. Stop.
Stop thinking that everyone is superficial and fake and that you're the only 'real' one in the universe, or that they have the right to think of you any less than them.
Neither of you have that right.
You are here. They are here. I am here.
It doesn't matter what skin colour you are, or what gender you are or whether you like boys or girls or both. It doesn't matter if you believe in a god or not, or if you're uncertain. It doesn't matter if you are covered in tattoos or not, or if you love books or hate books, or if you're afraid of heights or aren't but wish you were.
Stop apologizing.
Stop screaming.
Think about what you're saying before you say it. Think about what you are doing before you do it.  
You choose how you respond, you choose your destiny, and you choose your reality.
So breathe and feel alive while you're alive. Laugh and love and get hurt. There's nothing wrong with living as who you are.
You are allowed to be.
They are allowed to be.
I am allowed to be.
We are allowed to be

You will be a gift at your best and someone who needs a shoulder to lean on when you are at your worst.
Let yourself see.
Let them see.
Let me see.
Let us see.

a little girl idolized me today,
"you are so fast!" her dress had pink
flamingos and her hair glistened underneath the shaky
sun. her brown eyes were orbs of hope.

"you know, anything boys can do, girls can do just as well"
her mother’s advice, i never heard from my own.

"well, she probably thought you were real pretty"
my shoulders slumped as i sipped cherry juice. sweat slipped
beneath my belly.

pretty? pretty? pretty?

what about my ability to run, how my muscles
expand, contract. how my brain is churning with explosives,
and my heart is able to let all these words and turn them into
daisies.

the little girl hugged me before she left,
"you are so good!"

i never heard pretty, or cute, or beautiful,


and i want this girl to grow up to know she is the veins
beneath the grounds, and she can grow up to be
whoever she
wants.

an athlete, a mathematician, a fashion designer,
as long as she’s not only
*pretty

You know those really really really long events you had to go to as a kid. Ridiculous stuff- like family reunions, or church meetings or just plain ol' being dragged along? Sometimes fun stuff- road trips (if you fancied them), Disneyland or whatever equivalent, or to family you actually liked.

Leaving at sunrise and returning as bats and owls start to yawn and pull up their sheets. That time of night.

After a long day of this and that and that and this. Well, I wish I could relive one of those drives back. Laying down in the back of the car if you had lots of space, wrestling with the seat-belt buckles on your back; or constantly trying to re-position your head against your window or that uncomfortable and non-ergonomic plastic-type frame next to the door lock and above the handle only to be bounced by the car and woken up.

Long after my brain would give up on trying to sleep in said conditions I'd get into a semi-psychedelic state. Watching the sea of red lights in front of me, ebbing and flowing little dots- each controlled by the movement of the others. To the left a torrential outpouring of bright yellow/white light (blue nowadays with those LED's or whatever). Not a single stop-light in sight.

I often would tilt my head slightly upward, my head against the window causing my vision to vibrate with the tiny, ubiquitous bumps in the road and look at those tall "7" shaped street lights. They'd come into existence as fast as they disappeared in a consistent and wonderful rhythm. Mesmerizing to say the least.

Occasionally the sound of the turn signal would outweigh the subtle 'whirrrrr' of the car and the sound of the road, only to silence after a soft sway in either direction. Slowing down, the beep-beep-beep of the "hey your door's open", and the slight cool breeze worked like a snap to a hypnotized me. Slowly peaking up to regain my bearings- only to continue forward once there was ample juice in the car or less juice in the folks driving.

But now tis' only I who drive. And I drive myself, by myself. Trying to recreate the same feeling while I drive wouldn't be quite smart... And so like those street lights those times have whizzed by without a sound. Only to be appreciated once it stops. They say time goes. No.
truly- time stays, we go.

Right or wrong
Short or long
Agree or disagree
When singing a song
Ape or kong
Blunt or kong
When you're high
Its like you're living a life of a person from Hong Kong

Persuasive talker
Convincing stalker
Both of these are mind players
But I'd rather choose to ignore them with a bottle of Johnny Walker
Subconscious mind
Left behind
Likw a hypnotist I'll pursue this until I find

Blame it on the left
Decision making
The oven of thoughts
Busy opinion baking
Anxiety is close
Hands are shaking
All of the mess I made
I'll be out there raking

Mostly its pressure from your peers
Flowing through your ears
Seems like you've conquered most of your fears
And then peers begin to cheer
Sensors begin to hear
That you were wrong to listen to them,dear

Its...
One thought to another
Disrespecting you mother
Ignoring your father
Cause' you'd rather...
Party till the morning
Drink while you're yawning
Get drunk until you sleep on the lawn and...

Drink and jive
Drink and drive
An accident happens
Then you're no longer alive
But you thought you'll survive
That's because death gave you a high five