Some people are raised
From a very young age
to believe that they’re
special and one of a kind.
And as they grow, they’re
Devastated to find out that
We’re all the same
They buy a home
They have a few kids
They conform to
The sociable
And they’re happy
Then there’s the people who
From the beginning of their lives
Are told that they’re worthless
And they succumb to the
Pressure of those crushing
Adjectives and they wither
And fall
Into drugs or crime or civil
disobedience to everything

We are made to believe that
The norm is to settle.
Is to capitulate to the standards
Of everyone around us.
Yes we’re all the same
But what makes us different isn’t
Our appearance or our race or gender
Or our personal style.
What makes us, Us.
Is our capacity to hope.
To dream.
To cherish.
To love.
To grasp something so tightly
to your chest that your body
has no choice but to make it
its own
Those exact things also makes us
The same  
We are all artists in the grand
Scheme of things
In our own universes, In front of us
Stands the canvas of decisions
Make sure you create something
Worth the trouble

There’s dullest in the walls
plastered with dried saliva
From the girl who ******
You, and him and her
The night before
The floor smells like ****
Because last night you
divulge to me your love for
the guy across the hall, Jamie
Your love for his ego and his
eccentric manner of being a
******* ****** bag
Aren’t you tired of roof tops
The crossed off words in your
mouth?
aren't you tired of putting things
Inside you that don’t matter?
I left my cigarette burning
Inside your stomach and Jamie over here
Left two more
Don’t be surprised if it gets that big
After 4 months
I’m glad the cancer isn't mine

I miss your breath after
a few shots
breathing on my neck
Corroding my skin
Leaving wounds the shape
of your mouth
the size of continents
seeping down
in to my bones
like radiation ,
rusting them
grinding my knee caps
my elbows
shifting the tides of
my blood
your fingers sail down
my spine turbulently
I could feel arthritis
On your lips
Taste myself on
Your tongue
and feel the collision
of a car crash being
pressed against me
everywhere

When I was thirteen
I had this awkward habit
of texting you at 1 o’ clock in the morning
about some crazy idea I had during the day.
And you would get so mad at me
that you’d reply in all caps and exclamation points
to which I would laugh so hard at.
But really, you didn't mind
because you would stay and
we would text until sleep claimed one of us.

I remember back then
I use to play basketball all the time
and you would always come out
when I was there.
It was annoying
because you would always steal the ball away
and I would have to chase you
all around the cul-de-sac.
Until you got tired
collapsing on asphalt
and I not wanting you to get hit by a car
stood guard right beside you
and you would always laugh at me
for being so paranoid.

I especially remember the night
when you were outside laying on the grass
wearing nothing but summer shorts and a tank top
Your legs gleam in the moonlight like neon
I thought you were the most beautiful
Thing I've ever seen
I remember asking you
“What are you doing out here?”
“My parents are fighting, what are you doing?”
“Taking out the trash” I said.
You asked me to join you
and I did and so we both laid there
cushioned by the thick uncut grass
covered in shining nightly dew
as we stared upward towards infinity.
and all I could imagine was you
climbing on top of me
giving my chest a reason to expand

I’m happy you found someone
That draws blue flowers on your
Porcelain every night
You leave your lip stick
On his night stand and
Your underwear on his bed
You walk to him like a horizon
like the floor is sand
like you leave foot prints
telling me where you are
just so you could see what
I would do
It’s been a month.
I've been traveling through Montana
It’s cold here, the snow is piercing
And the ice never melts
I’m at St. Mary trying to find
Where the lake touches the mountains
Some time before lunch
Realizing how you found
The world in-between his shoulders
And a history in-between mine

I want a love so furious
that I wake up to her
kissing the wounds she
gave me last night
I want to be decorated
with hickeys
tattooed with bite marks
I want to feel what actual
love feels like.
I want to wake up to the sun rising
outlining her body, highlighting her cheeks
smiling.
I want to wake up with post traumatic stress disorder
from the night before
and the aftertaste of her still
lingering in my mouth

We talked about it once
Near the window
With the broken frame
Underneath a night
Covered in cotton

We talked about it until
We couldn't talk anymore
Until we ran out of adjectives
To describe it and verbs to unleash it
Until our tongues were dry
From the saltwater pouring out from
Ourselves

We talked about the fire
You wish you could have
Been anywhere else in the world
But even then, you felt like
It would have followed you

So we kept talking about it
About the people without skin
And the people with too much
About how easy it was for you
To do it
That much iron in your hands
“I had to do it” You said

I wanted you to stop talking then
I stared at where your legs should be
Now stumps like deforestation
You knew too well what that meant
With your shattering eyes

You kept talking in your wheelchair
Hands brutal like mountains
Kept talking about that girl
And how easy it was for you
How you did it with only a couple
Of matches
And a gallon of gasoline