That night.
I was going to bleed again.
But I lost my needle.
It slid away.
I guess.

I need to get more.
And some black thread.
I only have beige.

I don't use knives.
I use the tips of very sharp things.
And I go down.
Not across.

I have a cross.
My two most prominent scars.
Faith first. Then myself.
Left. Then Down.

“Please leave your message after the tone.”

Beep

“I just, needed to remind you that I love you and I think of you constantly, and I’m having a deja vu, but, I- I don’t know if this one will end badly, but the last one did.”

Beep bop doop don beep boop boop

Ringing

“Please leave your message after the tone.”

Beep

“Hey, I don’t know what good it is to tell you I’m sitting on a corner, alone, in the rain just, shivering. But, I miss you. I miss you like a flower misses the sun. Like an ear misses sound. Like a heart misses lo-”


*Love.

I'm glad we felt the same way,
I still do,
Do you?

I want to wake up on the next 60 Christmas mornings and see your face,
Your collar bones, your chest, your hips, your gorgeous legs and those quaint feet of yours,
Because I love you.
And I will never, nor have I ever loved another as much as you.

You are made for me and I am made for you.
The two pieces to a two-piece jigsaw puzzle.

The picture we make is love.

And I will love every second of it.

I'd like to pretend that I'm not better
But I am.
I want to say things that demean myself
But I don't.
I'm better and that's that and I'm not depressed.

I can rely on myself and not others and
Be happy.
I can wake up and fall asleep regularly,
Refreshed.
I can say "Hey look at me or don't" and mean it.

I'm better.

I'm in a higher league, apparently,
She wouldn't even talk to me.
I scared her.

I just wanted to kiss.

If I had it my way,
You’d be the topic of the day.

Your light would be omnipresent,
Kinda like heaven.

I really miss you, Bella.
I wish you hadn't left.
You taught me to be proud,
that who I am is my own best.

You said we all live
Under the same moon.
Those we vowed to never see,
We would see more than soon.

You taught me kissing's fun
And ******* great
And *** doesn't mean
That you are bound by fate.

You said so many things,
Signed one golden thought,
Packed up with your family
And went to where you sought.

I miss you Bella.

And I don't know what to do.

But I really think I am.

And that's okay.

His fist broke the drywall and paint
Like it was a glass ornament.
His knuckles pulsed
His heart pumped.
His tears built up
And flowed.

Lights of red and blue,
Halt the beat,
Unplug the amps,
Have a little more fun,
Before the night is done.
I want to smile,
But it feels kinda,
Empty I guess,
My lips are longing,
    For a reason to crescent.
    And maybe a little more.
Want you here with me,
Want to spend the summer,
Want to sit around a fire,
And live a little with you,

I want to step forward,
Not look back,

I want to be with you,
Only you,

Your blue flame alone,
Can light my fire,

Light a fire,
Live a little.

-June 2nd 2013

So sick of metaphors,
So sick of trying.
So sick of fake love,
I’m sick of crying.

Love thyself, thy neighbor,
just don’t love a broken soul.
Love all the things you control,
but broken souls have holes.

Cause when you laugh,
And when you run,
You will fall into a hole.
"****" will go the fun,
And "****" will go the sun.
"****" will go control.

And you will be back to crying.

I’m not lying, I’ve been there and back.
                         *Thrice.

In my head
I say the right things and land on the beat and the synonyms all rhyme.
In my head
I impress them all just enough to earn myself a picture on the wall.
In my head
I pursue with intent, gain interest follow through and succeed in gaining attention.
In my head
I don't just stare at her lips
                                                 *I feel them.

Sea shell, sea shell,
By the stegosaur,
Millions of years prior to dinos
So often pictured together.

Why must it be so easy to
Break.

Pterosaurs are not all
Pterodactyls,
******.
And they are less bird
Than the monster you call T. rex,
Which was actually a scavenger.

Velociraptors don't exist as you think they do,
The closest thing you speak of are turkey sized
pack runners from Mongolia and China.
Or the Utah Raptor, over 6 meters long, from my native home land,
Utah.

You can't comprehend how much time
This Earth has been through.

We are less than the one percent.

I lay awake so late at night and stare up at the ceiling,
I want to write I want to create some form to capture my feelings,
But my brain so dazed and tired cannot form the right thoughts,
And so it must analyze itself to create something of meaning.

I wish I could write sonnets aplenty, haikus flowing abound,
I wish I could grace this digital world with strokes and words unknown,
But instead I am trapped behind this wall of gray called writer's block,
And cannot capture these feelings of youth and trust and love,
but at least I am trying.

You must give me that.

I’m singing this song,
Don’t know what to expect,
But the words, they keep flowing,
And the music, it keeps going,
And I reach my highs when I sing and think,
    of you,
And I reach my low when I say something,
    I really didn’t want to,


‘Cause I want you,
    So. ****. Bad.
I wanna live up to,
    Every expectation you have.
I wanna sing the problems in your life away,
I wanna make sure the notes I hit stay,


I want you to hear me say,
That every day,
    I need you,
And that way,
    You make me,
Makes the next day worth living.


‘Cause I want you,
    So. ****. Bad.
I wanna live up to,
    Every expectation you have.
I wanna sing the problems in your life away,
I wanna make sure the notes I hit stay,


'Cause every time I wake up,
    I smile,
And every breath I take up,
    Is great,
When I hear you say,
    “I love you,”
And the feeling you give me stays,
    It’s true.

-July 14th 2013 (Lol the sun is rising right now)

And so it will be,
The path halts,
The last apple falls.

This new study says
That therapods like
Tyranosaurus Rex
Made hissing,
Booming sounds
Like cassowaries
And emus.

They are right
As I see it.

They were not monsters.
Only pre-birds.

Instead of dragging knives across my skin
expressing self hatred or anguish,
I take small breaths of cigarettes.
It's liberating.
The minutes I can choose to take from my life.

I want to die young.

You don’t deserve it, but you may get it,
And I will be happy for you.

And if it breaks you again, I’ll smile and laugh;
And if you manage to go the whole way with him,
I’ll laugh even harder, out of joy this time, not sadism.

I will never support you, nor detach you again,
I got my revenge, and you got yours.

I hope you make it, because you gave him so much,
And he gave you some too; But you both took- stole.

I hope you make it because you have ruined countless lives for this,
And if it fails, it will all be for naught.

Make it work, Miss Renner, because if you don’t,
*The dead weight of your victims will multiply.

Limericks are not my triumph,
Most of mine classify not high up,
But once in a while I get quite lucky,
And one of them isn't so fucky.
But this one will burn in fi'ya.

One of those morning where I want to cry
Over one condescending comment
And curl up into a ball
And die a little.

If you walk through a forest, you leave footprints.
And the footprints you left is one ****** nail print,
Several long blonde hairs,
And a circulating memory.

Circulating strands,
Your passionate scratches,
That embrace.

Why didn't this happen sooner.

I tried to write last night about my mother,
And all the hurt she gave me.
But as I wrote and as I rhymed,
I got lost
In
My
Thoughts.

I am hurt and I am harmed and I am heavy from said pain.
It's been 9 years and it still hurts.

I want to forgive her for selling out my love,
I really ******* do,
But I CANT.
I CANT FORGIVE HER FOR BEING SUBHUMAN,
SELFISH,
SHALLOW.

You threw away your children,
Your family.

I just don't understand.

It’s always rain that falls.
Never light, never warmth.
Like the world is crying,
Maybe he feels as I do.

These things, are they caused by rain,
Or are they an effect
Of the world’s tears?

More trial and error to see.


It’s always rain.
It’s always cold.

                -Marshall,
                    11-19-13

Sleep is for the weak.
But I must be weak.

I get to use my Z key.
Quite a rare site to see.
A tap and a tick in the bottom left hand corner of my keyboard.
I like it.
This tapping and ticking.

That first day,
Seeing you so short,
Thinking you two years younger,
But your heart was infinite.

Your selfless smile,
Smiling voice,
And smiling soul are so,
Soft.

You deserve far more
Than the world gives,
So you take your joy,
In giving back to all.

You’re in safe arms.

I love you, Sam. I hope you’re okay.

My best friend died seventeen days ago.
I was strong. I was the lone strength in my family.
I mustered my muscles and carried his body to its destination.
And laid him down.
I paid the fees associated with death.

And I walked away.
Strong.


But in the last moments of seeing him being carried away,
My father reached out to feel his hair one last time.
Fourteen years of life, and this was goodbye.

I broke after that.
I let it out, all of the sobbing, the retching, the mourning.
My face was wet, my heart was wet.


And then I grew strong again.
I threw on my face of man,
And walked the world again.

Because You were everything to me.

And it keep it there, between your legs while
I use my other hand to explore the soft curves of your back while
I gently start moving my kisses away from your lips
And towards your collar bones while
I listen to you gasp and moan in pleasure and ecstasy.

God,
You ****** me up.
There's damage here that's permanent, unchanged, unchanging.
I will never be the same since you've harmed me.
Sure, I've grown and
Sure, I've learned,
but ****
I will never be the same.

I will always seek the comfort you changed my psychology to crave,
I will always reach out at night to grab the body that isn't there.
I will always be the remnants of a scar on a short part of your life,
But you will always be so much more in mine.

I wish I could cut you out like a tumor,
Take a knife, sharp as day, and slice at these memories and scars,
Slash until you're gone.

Please just, go.

This morning, joyful.
My subconscious, sleeping brain struck a good joke,
One so jolly I awoke.

My dreams are clean again.
No pain. ♥

If I lived her life,
I'd **** myself,
Every ******* day.

I'd put a gun up to my head
And send lead through my own brain.

I wouldn't keep on living if I knew I was a liar,
I'd try to be pure,
I 'd push myself through fire.

And sure, I'm not pure,
But purer things desire,
That purer men seek purer still,
Unlike that ******* liar.

The world will keep spinning
If the population starts thinning.

Maybe she can be the beginning.
*Of the end.

I have stains of blood,
Everywhere.
I crave hugs,
Everywhere.
This is not cheesy,
at all.
Today was really breezy,
It was cold.

Hey look,

Joy beyond belief,
    Angelic in every trait,
        More than I could ever hope,
            Imagining life without you hurts.

I wrapped the suicide note around my throat,
It came in the form of a noose.
But before I knew what I wanted to do,
I had somehow wiggled loose.
The stool's too short for this overpowering court,
"Back to my old resorts."

"K"

Does that K stand for ****?
Is this your attempt to bleed me?

Cause it's working.

Reading documents of the story when the sun that burned so bright,
    It burned out.
Reading, heeding, the warning signs of an event unmemorable,
    Disgusted.
Mistakes will not be repeated,
New actions are in order.

-July 13th 2013

"Listen to her read poems in French."

Is this too specific?
I simply want to hear her voice.

Resting my head on your lap was magic,
Listening to all your syllables
And silent letters.
Watching your lips
So carefully as you tongued
The notes of a forgotten poem.
You turned words that I can read into
The song of a choir
And the language of romance,
I could hear Camus and Descartes
In your voice,
I could hear the timbre of your tongue
Embody the tortured author's pleas.

I could hear your voice
And watch you make art
With lips so red from kissing.
And I fell in love with it.

"Listen to her read poems in French."
Has been amended to
"Listen to her speak."

Knuckles white, steering the road to nowhere
Decidedly driving
To coffee.
Cruising familiar veins of an old city,
E-brake fishtailing every corner
He smiles.
He smiles and laughs like God herself is watching
Bobbing his head and dancing to his CDs
Alone on these streets.

I would trade it all to again feel this bliss.
Seventeen years old, king of his world,
Filling the void left by mental despair
And a wronged childhood
With women and night drives.
Ignorantly answering all of life's questions
So content with his child philosophies
And childish love,
And childish kisses,
And childish regrets.
Romanticizing the thoughts his dragons gave him,
Turning the scars on his arm into the rungs of a ladder,
Climbing up and past them,
Leaping the fences of mania,
And free falling into his insanities.

He was the king of his world,
Seventeen.

Got this stamp wrapped on me like a tattoo
At this point no zoo and can hold me back
No place is safe from the length of my street
I'm the cloud raining 2C-B,
Spend most of the time in the sheet
On my on days I'm spreading love and chemical treats
Better pray and pray I dont get you hooked on the good
This drugs not used to the hood
New to being the king of this B
But I'm King Bee none the less
Nexus doesn't **** with us
Even when we ***** this stuff
Eyes wide like we're ****** up
Dutch Champaign got me shut up
Only hoping they don't lock me up
Got the feds on me like flies
Avoiding contact with my eyes
Lying through my teeth
Know I'm goin' to go flying soon
All 'cause of this good, jeeze.
Gonna go flying soon.
Gonna go flying soon
Can't stay in this hood.

I remember the December weather,
I wore a smile outside your door,
They locked you out, but you weren't shocked,
I was, but I knew it must have been my chance,
So I acted cute, I was grateful,
But I wanted you, I was faithful,

Hand shake? Hug?
None of that;
A kiss on my cheek,
My legs went fleet,

I nearly fell over on the December ice, outside your home.
You look best during winter, although your summer shoulders make me smile.

Every knight deserves a sword,
    Every pen a paper,
Every mouth deserves an ear,
    Every painter some paint,
Every lover a love,
        But I
            deserve you.

The vampire parts her lips,
Not to draw, but to give,
A full laugh, a pleasant strum,
Her voice, my call.

Her being was once my eclipse,
Those days I wish only to relive,
But her heart has grown numb,
Goodbye, my doll.

I remember that morning,
It was raining,
It was pouring,
It tasted like tears,
    Mostly because I was crying
    And I was bleeding
        Because I punched a wall,
Because I saw it all.

I saw how the world could stop and walls could shatter,
I saw that birds could fly backwards,
And the dictionary was not large enough to pack all the words I longed to scream at the top of my lungs into a crowd of six thousand,
I saw that a brick wall doesn’t show the stain of blood very well,
But you can always see the remnant of torn flesh on its gritty surface.

The pain of that rain,
The pain of that blood,
The pain of those tears,
    Were nothing-
        nothing compared to what was taken from me.


And here I am months later.
My hand has healed, scarred over. A pink discoloration remains.
But the only pain I still feel is in these lines,
    The only thing that’s real.

I remember that morning,
It was raining,
It was pouring,
It tasted like tears,
    Mostly because I was crying
    And I was bleeding
        Because I punched a wall,
Because I saw it all.

I saw how the world could stop and walls could shatter,
I saw that birds could fly backwards,
And the dictionary was not large enough to pack all the words I longed to scream at the top of my lungs into a crowd of six thousand,
I saw that a brick wall doesn’t show the stain of blood very well,
But you can always see the remnant of torn flesh on its gritty surface.

The pain of that rain,
The pain of that blood,
The pain of those tears,
    Were nothing-
        nothing compared to what was taken from me.


And here I am months later.
My hand has healed, scarred over. A pink discoloration remains.
But the only pain I still feel is in these lines,
    The only thing that’s real.

-July 20th 2013

You're going to read this wrong,
Every single one of you.
Because you are not me,
And you cannot see what I'm saying.

No amount of stressed syllables in these lines can
ever describe what it means.
To me.
Why I wrote it.
Why I let you read it.

You will never understand
My understanding.

And that's okay.