I promised you I'd take you away
From here one day
And that's a promise I intend to keep.
If given the chance,
I would take you with me on my every daily endeavor
And I would kiss you with every passing second
To make up for all the ones you deserved
But didn't receive
When I was just a little girl
And the world was turning it's back on you
So harshly.
And I would be criticized
For my loving you;
Too wide of an age gap,
To vast of a difference
But I am closer to you
That I have ever been
With anyone else.
I will take you to the beaches of California
I have never seen
And I will make love to you
In the crisp Colorado air,
So long as you're willing to run with me.
We can go to New York
And skip rocks in the pond
In Central Park where Holden Caulfield
Almost drowned himself because he was drunk,
But not quite as drunk as I perpetually am
On your excellence.
Maybe we could go to the Natural History Museum
And we could look at the really cool Indian statues
That emulate my love for you
By never changing.

Wherever it is you want me to go
I will follow you with no questions asked
So long as when I'm finally able to save you
From this wretched place,
You will take my hand and save yourself
With me.

I know I've been sent before
To scream and proclaim my innocence
But I've always been the one
Who people turn to
When they don't know where they are.
I'll press my hands against the wall
You've built around your voice
And I'll tear it down gently
If you'll allow it.
I've always been an expected saviour,
But you're the kind of person
I wouldn't mind saving once in a while.
I'll never learn to accept
Your humble praise even though I know
Just that will number my days.
I'm not a peacock,
But I'd like to believe that in the beginning
And even now
I had something beautiful
That benefited you in some way.

I'm sickened by people my age
Who smoke but don't pay for their cigarettes
On their own accord.
What's the point
Of committing the only legal form of suicide
If your parents are paying for it?

Tonight
I know for **** sure
That I won't sleep well.
I'll be too busy,
Wrapped within my inhibitions,
Pondering the ******-social ramifications
Of telling you
To *******.

Because in the end,
I know we're all just cosmic play things to God,
But why the **** did you get to be Legos to Him
While I got stuck
Being some Barbie,
Some Malibu Stacy doll?
Why did you get so many possibilities,
So many complicated pieces
While I got a primitive set of dainty high heels
To run the world from?

A nihilist will tell you
That suicidal thoughts
Are not bad,
More of a comfort actually.
Because as long as deep down,
You know you don't have the ***** for it,
You can use those thoughts
As a plan to run.
It's easy to deal with what's in front of you
When you have a ******* escape route.

Always have that escape route ready,
But never use it.
I promise
That your heart will feel lighter
And your soul
Just a smidgen freer.

This morning I was looking at time capsules on Amazon
Because I thought it would be cool
To bury some stuff I love
So I could remember myself

And tonight I want to die in such a way
That I am collapsible,
Able to fit in your pocket,
Behind a locked bathroom door so strong
That all these men around me
Have to team up to break it down
Because I want others
To remember *me.

Three little kittens
Lost their mittens
But I'm the only one
Hanging high and dry,
Run up a flag pole
For those I despise
To see my bloomers.

People are going to walk away from you
And some are going to run,
But you will always be able to measure your worth
In the amount of steps it takes them
To leave you.

I used to date a guy
Who ****** a lot of people out of a lot of things,
Who pretended to be an alcoholic
Just because he was lonely
And the AA people
Had voices that spoke to him,
Voices that weren't in his head.

In Alcoholics Anonymous,
They have a saying that
"Fear" only stands for
"**** Everything And Run."
This is a saying
I wish that I knew
When all those tacky neckties were holding me back.

So it's needless to say
That I didn't have the wise words
Of AA on my mind
As I studied the Big Book on my own.
Instead I marched into his mind
And flushed his month's "sobriety" token
Down his mental *******.

Because sobriety doesn't mean  
Stealing a bottle of wine from Jewel
And finishing it off yourself.

And I was used to getting lied to,
But I felt bad for those poor AA guys,
Listening to his ramblings on a girl
Who loved him
And wanted him to change
When in reality
She just wanted the lies to stop.

They should have given that sobriety token
To a man who earned it.

Give your tokens
To those who deserve them.
Do not put your pennies in a piggy bank
That only siphons down a gutter
In the end.

They say that
Absence makes the heart grow stronger
But all its gotten me
Is an addiction to your scent
And an adamant responsibility
To be true.

Sometimes I feel as though
I'm the poker hand
You should fave folded
But instead, held.

My only fear
Is that I will spend every night
Sobbing in your arms
To make up for all the times
Everyone else
Left me to fend for myself.

I see a lot of myself in you, friend.
Where your scars lay,
I have glittering embers coursing through my veins
And I feel the same about poetry.

This is our challenge.
This is what we were made for.

Yes, you and I may delve deeper into the darkness than the light,
But we are phenomenal at our craft.

Your bio searches into the metaphorical implications
Of slicing butterflies that stand for our love
And nothing has ever sliced me deeper,
Because it is that kind of thing
That brings me back into the reality of my being.
Every drag of the cigarette
Takes away a second with my children,
A minute with my lover
And that is so scary.

With just your biography,
An explanation of something a thousand men, women, humans have done,
You have touched me in a more profound way
Than I have ever previously experienced on this site.

You and I,
We've got to turn that burning darkness in our synapses
Into gold.

Come on,
We can be like they are:
Vapid and naked,
Sprawled against the summer heat storm.
In my vanity I have found reasoning
And in my darkest corners
I have had to cope
Alone.

What do I gain
From writing poetry
On my breaks that should last but a cigarette's time?
The taintings of my self righteousness run wild
With sonic booms
On nights like tonight.

I tread on,
Keeping my neck barely above water
On the shallow end of this pool.
They'll take the poll again tonight
And maybe it will be
My turn to drown.

If I were to die,
The universe would unravel
And stars would pour from my veins;

At least to somebody.

Leave me
And you will find me
Awake until seven the next morning,
Scrawling haikus onto the wall
With my own blood.

It was always natural for him
To smell like cigarettes
Even though I was pretty sure
That he had never touched one directly
In all his years of living and lusting.
But who am I to judge,
The local Laura Palmer
Who thinks with ambition
That she has the world by the entrails?
Sweat dripping, anger sipping
Wine out of her clavicle cavity,
She and I are a beast,
A torrential force to be reckoned with
Though I cower.
So bravely, so tenderly,
I cower so as not to ruin
The pleading ferocity
Of cigarette boy,
His hand pressed
Firmly against the curve of my hip.

Cigarette boy pulled me from my cowering the other night,
Took his own hand off my hip
And whispered to me
That I was as big as I wanted to be
And I could over power the earth
With my love and care.

These are the things I love him to say
Between the drags I take off him.

I was told today
That my life choices
Offend some.
Offend,
The same word my editor used against me
As a precaution
When I told her
That I wanted to write an opinion article
About why Mark David Chapman
Should be released from prison.
I was warned that I would offend some readers,
And that was to be expected.
After all,
It was an opinion piece.

But today I was told
That some of my lifestyle choices offend
And I couldn't help but to ask:
"Which ones?"

At which point this woman lost her **** on me.
"How can you possibly be having relations with a man
So much older than you?
Isn't he graying?
Isn't he...
More mature, intelligent than
You?"

And I felt my world implode.
This woman, this foul, wretched beast with ****
Was openly denouncing
Everything I had built myself on over the last year.
And I could tell this woman
Went home to a white picket fence and
Screaming, spoiled, ******* kids,
And a husband who beat her ***
But was at least in her age range
Every night.

And I seethed.

And I sobbed.

With what wretchedness I took down the notes of the Earth today,
For it continued to turn
Even as I felt myself shattering inside.
How can one be so obsessed,
So offended by another's
Choice in love;
As if I even had a ******* choice
To begin with?

Who's to say
That even though I don't go home
With him every night,
That I don't go home to solace and peace
And all those other ******* things
I could never find
While making out with men my age
Who had whiskey and PBR on their breath
And strong, red cigarettes twisted in their knuckles?

Who is there to say
That love is not present
In our every move, our every caress
During the films we watch every time we see each other?
We watch The Shining and he holds me close
Because jump scares make me scream like a little *****.
We watch Moonrise Kingdom
And I can feel him kiss my cheek,
Making me blush
As he remarks on how we are so much like
Those children on the screen.
So in love.
So innocent.
So tender you could puke.

I have nightmares with every evening-fall
And he dies in each of them,
Making each night a new horror
That I have seen so many times.
I woke up screaming in his bed once
And he was clutching me from behind,
His arms coiling my midsection,
His panicked breath hot on my neck.

You don't cry over scaring someone
You do not love.

He loves video games,
Megaman's his favorite.
When he tells me the stories
Because the games are much too hard for me,
I see his brown, sparking eyes
Alight with a shine of wonder
And I know
He doesn't know that he's a hero in himself,
Much like his little blue childhood
Role model.

My picket fence
Could easily be sufficed
With the balcony of a small apartment
Or a suburban chain-link fence
So long as I know
That I am standing on or behind it
With him at my side.

Twelve years is not a death sentence in love,
Neither is being told that your choices are offensive.

There is a beauty that comes
With courting an older man.
Words flow easier,
Advice is given without judgement.
Arguments are had over
What the **** Alex Hirsch meant with that episode,
Rather than who the hell were you just texting?

I am young.
And I am in love,
The kind I would not mind
Inviting in for the rest of my days.

He is not graying.
He is not a monster.

He is my friend,
My lover,
My partner in crime,
The man I make watch too many Stanley Kubrick and Wes Anderson movies,
My darling,
My sweetheart,
And the light of my life.

I couldn't care less if that offends you.

What was the point
In idolizing and utilizing my resources
Without truly taking or replacing
Anything within my being?
With what anomaly's prejudice
Did you plan to take me down?
It's like you're Little Mac
And I'm Glass Joe,
Throwing punches even though
They don't connect.
You overpower me in so many ways
But back away before credit is due.

I would call you humble,
But in the end I'm still a ****;
A slit in a gown clean up to the hip...
And you're a dancer,
A ******* epiphany
Sweeping across the room.

When your life is measured in years and miles,
It is easy to bring yourself to spar with reality.

A brand new car will last you your entire life
If it is taken care of
And well-maintained.
A used one will net you ten years, tops.

This is why I am jealous of those
Who bide their time and
Make things used.

This is why I am ashamed that I am used.

When calls come in the middle of the night
I should know by now to expect them to be
Either ****** invitations
Or suicide threats.

No good art ever came from people
Who had the world's admiration hoisted
On their shoulders
And no great piece was ever penned by a human hand
While the creator was holding society's *****
Tightly in the other.

Have you ever suckled the breast of humanity
For all it was worth?
With unfathomable disinterest,
I have.
And with distress painting and lapping at my innards,
I have found what Lennon searched for
Even as he clawed for his last discerning breath.

Have you ever seen a kid,
Your friend,
Impaled on a Chevy's radio antenna?
It's **** near impossible to do,
Lest it pierce your eyeball
And thinking place...

I scrounge the earth
And I come up from the deep recesses
More spent than revived.

I am at a loss for words.
Why do I feel like a corpse
Day in, day out?
Today I am famished.
Not with a hunger to be satiated with thought
But with a candid urgency
And a hankering for vengeance.
I boil, I seeth.
I teeter on the brink.
I kiss with tongue
And spit out my entrails.
They say your ******* is just the end of your mouth,
But that's common sense.
Have you ever felt terror strike and shine
All down your spine?
Have you ever been unable to breathe?

Sometimes when it's cold outside
And you blow cigarette smoke from your mouth
You can't tell where the smoke ends
And your chilled breath begins.
This is what it's like to completely lose yourself.
Where do I begin and, more importantly,
Where do I end?

Am I just smoke on the end of your cigarette?
Or am I the glowing ember?

I remember the sweat
Clinging to your war-torn back
Like rain,
A succulent, torrential downpour
Of fury and lust.
And in that moment
I knew myself to be much more
Than I had ever at any variable point
Thought before.

Today my feet feel lighter.
Lying through omission,
I relayed to you
That I believed death
To be a great anomaly;
A pleasure swirl of brain drugs,
Encapsulating one
In a solemn yet impeccable nirvana
Of their choosing.

My heaven smells like the hugs you get
From smoker's seventh sons.

My heaven tastes like the metallic urge
That burns in the back of your kiss.

I am untamed,
A sorcerer, and
A God in my own right.

The nights have become the most difficult
(Never sleep again, never rest again)
To manage.
Deeper, dreadfully
I soar into what I do not believe,
Into a pain much too real
And much more haunting
Than I have ever experienced.
The ghosts are back, Stephen,
They have returned to become the captain
Of my being,
To lust and breed and **** again.
I feign interest
And parry their blows back
Though my defenses are falling
And the blanket on my bed
Is never,
(Never sleep, never lay)
Ever quite long enough to cover me.
My worries today
Are an overheating boiler,
(COME QUICK I NEED HELP
I'M DYING HERE)
Pumping steam and pressure
Out of my jagged edges.

It is getting harder and harder to breathe.
Do you believe in God, Stephen?
I know Kubrick called you and asked the same
Many years before my birth,
But today I need your answer more than ever,
In that my every move seems to propel me
Into many-a-numbered
Ceiling and wall traps
And I am being crushed,
(Never sleep, never rest)
Soiled and trampled at the hand of fate.
I once thought myself too intelligent to believe,
But now I need a higher faith
If only to know that darkness is never truly darkness
And the candles I have left burning in my body
Will never be blown out.

Did you really see that boy,
That childhood friend of yours
Struck down by a train
In your ever so tender youth?
Was his blood and brain matter
What came to you in your darkest hour
As you wrote about presidential suites
And Danny Torrance seeing reverse ******
Played out in front of him for eternity?
Is ****** played out for eternity in your mind,
Too?
(Do you Shine, Stephen?)

They taught us about you in school, Stephen.
They made you out to be a God in yourself,
A novel machine
Intent on overpowering the industry
For your own gain and prosperity.
But those who read you,
(Those who know, those who feel)
Know you as a human.
You spirit, you singer,
You light of my life,
(You twisted man, you monster, you seer of sights)
You have kept the world alive
With sparks and shines
Under eyelids
For decades.

Stephen, I have stuck my hand in the wasp nest again.
Bring me your salvation.
Bring me
(Your understanding, your writer-virtue.)

And so I write to you today,
A young girl of but 18
With her own Shine set to murderous visions
And Terrifying conundrums.
My ghosts follow swiftly in my foot trails
And your novels warm my lap as I try
(So hard, so)
Desperately
To hear your voice,
Bellowing with contempt,
Your tone so monotonous and
Matter of fact,
Even when speaking of such malicious things
I have to stop children from buying your movies at my job
Because I could get in trouble if they see
Jack Torrance kissing a decaying woman
Or Carrie being burned alive in her prayer closet.
(I could get in trouble with the law
If they see the truth you speak,
The tales of loss and preservation you weave.)

Because of you and the horror you have struck me with,
I leave the lights on.
I am fearful
(But so hopeful)
Within myself each day.

Because of you
I have seen men and women
Find peace
Within their own private Overlook Hotels
Housed deep and high
In the mountains of their own consciousness.
Because of you
I have found
(Breathe in, breathe out,
Nothing to see here)
Solace
In my self-contained
Madness.

The candles on my birthday cake
Are a body count.

I've got friends who work in pharmacies
And talk about nothing but addicts
And I've got friends who are addicts
Who talk about nothing but drugs
But what am I supposed to say
To my drug-addled friends
When you're the only addiction I have
And there's no cure for
My pharmacist friends to figure out?

I am being devoured from within
In the most whimsical way.
It is with ease I feel it to say
That an obese leg amputee
Is standing on my chest
In their single high-heeled shoe.
I am being devoured from within.

I need a cigarette.
Because the word "okay"
Has become my safe haven.
For I am all right
Though I'm drowning
In skepticism inside.
I need a cigarette.

I am a toddler's tantrum.
My innards have been twisted in knots
Not even Maniac Magee could untie
For the promise of all the pizza in the world.
I am a toddler's tantrum.

I am an anxiety and not much more.

I've found myself fighting for words.
But not one: Me.

You surf on the open waves of my tyrant mind,
A nymph at play on my heart strings
Plucking away your song of healing.
I am a just-born child in your arms
As you rock me and sing to me
Even though we're both adults;
For the fear and hatred never escaped my soul
And I still crave the touch
Of your figure as I lie awake at night, cold
And alone.
I can still feel your hands on my skin tonight
Though my love,
You are miles away.
With what anguish I still yearn for your embrace,
Your calming tone.
Tonight I lie in wait
For my prince to return home.

I was only a soft experience,
Pounding on an anvil,
Ironing out my life.
And you were quite unshaven;
But you had a quiet disposition
That made me immediately
Go weak in the knees.

And I let you take me down
And breathe into me a frown,
A permanent elegy of light.
My darling, you were the only thing
That I was willing to hold on,
The only thing I wanted to wrap my arms around at night.

Loving you is the only thing that makes sense,
The only thing that keeps me breathing so deep.
And how can I repay you?
How can I ever thank you enough
For loving me in spite of the danger?

My mind is a battlefield;
An ashen Earth clawed away
By birds only seeking their freedom
Who damage so much in the process.

Great valor, hear my cry
That I may slay my demons and reconstitute my trials
Because this mind is a beautiful one
Yet ever so clouded and coiffed at the edges.

With what pleasure I have begun to deduce
The true romance of the world!
Here, in your hand,
I have found solace and a world of comfort.
Gone are the days of toiling in vain,
Waiting for a sweet saviour to arise.

Though I have come suddenly today
Upon the realization that salvation
Is not a flame found in others for ourselves;
But an ice
That freezes so succulently in your core
Once you have allowed yourself to be healed
By the forgiving hand of he who you love
And more importantly,
The hand of your own affairs.

And so I give you thanks
For leading me into a life of joy and bliss
While subsequently rescuing me
From my own worrisome and often bitter outlook.
For I did not look to you to be saved,
I only look to you today
To alight the loving fire in me
I sometimes find easy to forget.

I am ready for my close up today.
Take in all my in insecurities
And bathe me in your municipality.
I'm finished and I've received my black eyes
At the hands of your better judgement.

I am but a cold hand
Emerging from the grave in my heart;
A burned and bitten piece of flesh.
I hated Ohio for all it's worth,
But there's a record store out there
I know I could fall in love in.

I've lost my childhood heroine to ******
And I've lost my innocence to about the same thing:
That is, if men were drugs
And my lungs weren't already full
With the Northern Lights
And ambiance of darkened alleys;
The kind Mary Jane
Kissed Spiderman in all those movie moments ago.

Why do we berate our heroes
When they aren't exactly male
And why did they beat upon this withered soul
Like a rag doll
When she had nothing to give
And no one to blame?

All your friends
Will come and go
And look for something better in time.
Which is exactly the reason
To keep on keeping on
And to keep on growing
And loving and hating
And *******
And clawing our ways
Out of the graves in our hearts.

I'm ready for my close up today.
I am all right if they see the
Collagen in my cheeks
And the dirt caked in my pores.
Today I am enlightened
And today I am full.

Everything around me
Keeps me coming back to you.
I'm a lost puppy
Wandering in the woods
And I'm a hopeless case
When you're not around.
And I can't tell if this is admirable
Or sick but I'm only happy by your side.
The anxiety boils in my veins
And taints my mind
When you're so far away.
I fear for your safety daily
Because of past violences
And pill poppers
And self destroyers;
You're the only sane person I know in this world.
My guardian angel,
My one and only
Savior and protector.

I pretend to be a hardass by cutting my hair short
And smoking a cigarette a second
But it's only becaue Bruce Willis was safe
Climbing vents is Die Hard
So long as he had a gun in one hand
And an import smoke
Twisted in the knuckle of the other.
I am a lost transmission
And all of these words
Are just different combinations of twenty six letters
That could never encompass all you mean to me.

I am not a hardass,
I'm a pop princess
Longing for a God
But I am too intelligent to believe in one.

When did it become the norm for teens
To turn into Holden Caulfields
And when did I realize at first
That I see things other don't
And often suffer because of it?
It's like when I walked out of that theatre tonight
I was reminded what real life was
And promptly found myself again at the hand of anxiety.

I am not a monster
But this is a rant
Because I can't go a day
Without wondering why I'm still here.
With me
It is no depressive item,
I am only wanderlost.
How do people live past 25
When the world I live in is demented
And scary
And I am so, so
Small.

I breathe.
I am released.
But the air I fill my lungs with is heavy like lead
And I can only picture myself
Sinking to the bottom of the lake
Because my boots are too heavy
And I have decided to dive in headfirst.

I am a fool.
I am a disgusting imagined facet
And I am lost.
I am not thinking rationally tonight
And for that I thank only God Himself
Because I know He's ******* me up for a reason
But that reason might as well be for naught.

For I am no saint,
But a sinner.
Yes, I give little girls faith in themselves
By explaining to them that just because
They are ten years old
That does not mean they are not kick *** people
Because MegaMan was ten
When he was trying to ignore
****** puns from Cutman
And the same idiosyncrasies
And the same existentialist suicidal ideals
I try to ignore today.

I told my father today
That I wish I would have tried ditching school
Because then I would have felt as though I had
Even the smallest bit of control over my fate.
But I am so, so
Small.

I know the school
And everyone in it
Would not have noticed me go.

I know the world
And everyone in it
Would not notice me if I were to go.

Someday you will die
And leave a scar the length of my patience
On my psyche.
Someday you'll be rotting
With worms eating your substance
And I will be just as dead on the surface.
But there's nothing I can do
To stop the circle of life.
I could have treated you better
But I also could have treated myself as though I was worth something.
So I'm going to end up wasting a lot of things
Like food when there are starving kids I can't see
Across the universe.
I have dreams constantly
Where you're suffering
And I can stop it
But no one will listen to me
And I know that's a reflection of my real life.

Coco Chanel told us women to apply perfume
Where we could like to be kissed.
But I cannot apply perfume to my open wounds and heart
Without it burning immensely.

I am in purgatory.
Lyrics dancing around me,
Enveloping my very being
And snatching me from this world.
Breathing,
Beating,
Living with marks on my wrists and ankles;
I am free.
I guess we never needed each other
Because I still see you every week around town
And it looks as if the blood's still flowing
In that closed,
Mario Kart circuit in your body.
And I'm still here
Though most times I feel I shouldn't be
So I guess that means we're okay
Without each other after all.

Your girlfriend is pretty but smokes too much
And my boyfriend is handsome but doesn't believe in himself
But at least the two of us
Are finally happy.

And I have finally grown out of the roots of my suffering,
The gnarled pieces of my tumultuous past
That have left me barren so long.
I am in love,
A tortured soul cast onward
And ready to take down my foes.
The beasts I once let suckle on my breast
Are today torn away for
I now know the meaning
Of adoration in the third degree.
I rest my weary sons,
Finally relieved of battle to return home
And rest their weary backs.
I breathe today
Exhaling the agony of a million sessions of chainsmoking.
I love today
Like an uninhibited soul,
No longer basking in darkness;
No longer begging for forgiveness.

You killed yourself weeks ago
But the wound still burns at the edges
As it always has.
I am the lost, the wandering,
The unprefered.
Waste away in the calm with the remnants of my sanity
And you too may understand.
I am the discovered faith;
The found Jesus of my time
Though my kidneys are failing
And I realize that my existence is drastically limited.
I am afraid of time,
Of the fact that he will probably go before me
But alas I am reborn.
I am awakened to the succulent love
I have by my side tonight
As my pen
Scratches away at the integrity of my page.
I am the sailor at the helm of my ship.
I will forever rest
In the solace I have found in your arms tonight
And the intelligence within the life we share.

And so I spend my days
Wallowing in the contempt
I believed for so long
I had run away from.
I am constantly at fault with myself;
Teasing and tearing at my arteries
Though I am blessed with the peace
I fought so hard to know.
I am the goddess.
I find myself under the thumb of the world
Though I am the superpower,
The educated one
Who could overcome.
But I am barely an adult and
I am seldom believed in
Outside of The Legend of Zelda games.

I let you step all over me.
And I let you **** on my authority,
But I guess it's just my place.
What ever happened to earning the key?
Now I'll never escape this insanity
But I deserve it.
Because I ***** about the politics
And fight harder even though I've got the world licked
But I'm a street fighter in an arcade game
Playing the same jukebox melody
That annoys you the the point of suicidal tendencies.
I'm the chick in the corner shooting down advances
Because the boys have never read Palahniuk.
I'm a ******* waste.
And what's with all the haste
If I'm going nowhere?
It's such a shame.
I was on top of my whole world.
Now I'm throwing drinks in the face of life
But ignorant moves like that won't end the strife I feel.
But I tell you, I'm just like you.
Trying again and again though I **** up each time
And it's true
That I don't know where I'm going but
At least I'm on my way.
And I'm gonna stay
In the hell I've built inside this bed tonight.

A lady asked me today if I could give her a discount
On the **** she was buying
Because she had already spent so much at my establishment.
And I just nodded my head and ******* agreed
Even though inside I was screaming.
Because, *****, I didn't ask to save all those lives I did,
I didn't originally
Feel the need to talk the world out of suicide.
But I subscribed for the long run
And ******* myself over
Because I've got men grovelling at my feet
But they're all doped up on Xanax.
So take your ******* discount and
Shove it up your ***
Because you earned it.
But somehow I still haven't
Earned my day of peace.
Imagine if he was better at timing
And jumping?

I brought you a daisy
Because that was the name of my dog
And one of my favorite literary characters.
I came up, let the light shine in
And now you're alone.
I wore my necktie made of rope;
I was ready to die,
But not ready to choke.
And when they found you in that hotel room
I flashed back to the days I spent
Locked away with the speech team
In rooms very similar to the one
Your life escaped you in.
Would holding my hand have made it easier?
If I would have talked to you more often
Would your quality of living been better?
I do not condemn you for your actions,
For I am surprised that I survived my own turmoil,
Grazing through with nothing but a nicotine addiction
And the tendency to lay awake
When sleeping in someone else's bed.  
I am ashamed to say
That I was not by your side for your departing lessons.
Would it have made it easier if I had talked more?
If instead of repressing my worlds
I had shared them with you?
It was easy to assume that you didn't care much for me
Because you moved far away and no one knew why.
No one knew about the twenty-six year old man
Beating and threatening your gorgeous existence.
Not one of us could have come to know
The parasite growing in your guts and veins.
I remember the day when we were five,
You splashed my outfit with dark and sticky mud
And I told you that I hoped you died...
Our mothers laughed.
But the other day I saw your mother weep because my prophecy
Had come true.
The only movie I have ever seen
Depict eye make up melting accurately was the movie that played
For me as I knelt at your casket.
So I brought you a Daisy
Because there was a Rosary in your hand
I didn't want to taint.
And I prayed to the God I did not care for in that moment
That you would make it to where ever you were going
Safely at least.

I still want to hold your hand.

I'll let you take pictures of other girls in their bras
And I'll never quite get over it.
And I'll let you sleep all through the night
And I won't say a word when I'm feeling left out.
But I'll save all those rocks in a little purple
Crown Royal bag on a tack in my room.
And I'll throw those rocks at you when push comes to shove.
But I won't tell you how I'm feeling, I won't
Let you know how I've been doing
Because I'm your little princess and you
Expect me to be happy
But I'm not.
I always order too much
Food to handle and I
Pay for movies with a gun
Stuck in my back because I'll never watch them
But isn't it nice to think that I'll have a way
To stay sane in the case of a catastrophe?
Isn't it nice to say that I'll be able to
Mask my self indulgence in
Cigarette smoke and bad puns?
I hate myself, I hate myself,
I hate myself for engulfing myself in this load of *******
But I didn't ask to be born.
If I had it my way I would have been a wasted mess in a ******,
A wasted race in a piece of latex
Because I hate myself and that won't change.
I want to go to Chuck E Cheese
But I'm a hundred and twelve percent sure that
I won't fit the tubes.
I'm the lost cause of the century,
A piece lost in the puzzle.
The piece you dropped while making love
Underneath the covers
With that ***** you call a friend who's really just
Out for blood.
I want you to see, oh how I want you to see,
That you're a ******* and she's a ****
But you're building your castles and I'm just
Sending smallpox-ridden corpse heads over the fence.
I've never put my lips to the bottle because I'm tired
Of people using ales and hard ciders as excuses
Because we were all born once and we'll all die
But these people won't even let the most solemn of us
Dream.
Why can't you let the solemn ones sleep?
I've gotten older and I long for deeper things
But I'm a casket in the courtyard,
Not the body so much as the casing
Of a human bullet heading straight into your back.
I'm the whiskey in your glass, the nicotine of a cigarette,
So addicting but so remorseful.
I am the unwritten play,
Waiting for the day in which I'm published
But I'm ahead of my time and no one will do it.
But at least I'm in love with the best of the best
Because I know that at least if I **** up,
I'll still be loved deeper and more succulently than any of you losers.
I'm that geek who sits with a plate of food in front of them
But doesn't eat.
I don't care if my games don't come with the instruction manuals,
I'm all right with the value of being incomplete.
I'm intelligent because I see all these maddening things.
I'm the better person because I am walked on.
I am the queen of my own kingdom
And I'll have my king by my side through and through.

And I find myself alone,
Brought to this place
Where we threw cigarette butts
Down the storm drain.
I feel the memory of you drowning
Inside of me.
Breathless, reaching,
I hear church bells ringing and tinging.
I think for a moment
That you're God might be on my side tonight.
I remember vividly your fear of heights
And popping balloons
And I sigh through pursed lips.
Why in the end did we become adventurers of a lost faith?
You and I,
We should have listened when the philosophers told us
That God was dead.
Because instead tonight I feel cheated
And disbarred.

1.
I have been told
That I am too pretty to smoke.
I did not understand what he meant by this
Because I knew plenty of beautiful girls who smoked
And their boyfriends did not comment
On their vices, instead, only on their virtues.
Then I understood
That he was remarking on my insides-
My lungs and my horribly scarred soul.

2.
I didn't know anything about Batman.
I asked him about Bruce Wayne once
And was called a ******* idiot.
Now Batman scares me
And makes my stomach twinge
Because I feel guilty
For not knowing who he was,
I am a ******* idiot.

3.
Your mother loved Reagan
And I told her that he was
A dishonest, morally twisted pig
Who sat back
While thousands of Americans
Succumbed to a disease
Who's name was whispered
On the winds of her generation.
I don't think your mother likes me much anymore.
I think she may get in our way later on.
I wish she and I
Didn't care so much about Ronald Reagan.

4.
You told me about Joy Division
And I thought it was beautiful
That Ian Curtis hung himself in his kitchen
for his wife to find
And later had the words
"Love will tear us apart"
Inscribed on his headstone.
You called me cryptic
And then assaulted me in the night.
You made me want to die
So I could write "love will tear us apart"
On my own headstone.

5.
He asked for **** photos
And I told him no.
Upon which I was called a ****
And demeaned during intimacy
From then on.
He taught me that virgins could be *****
And now I am the ******
Time has made into the ****
It has ****** time and again.

6.
He called Wes Anderson films "hipster garbage"
And told me instead to watch things
Like Reservoir Dogs and South Park.
A year later, I only know not to tip
And how to be an *******.

7.
You told me to grow my hair out
Because a girl with short hair
Was a lesbian and you told me
You didn't want others to think
That you were going with a lesbian.
But in the end you still pulled it
With regular fierceness
And I was too much of a coward
To tell you to eat ****.

And I would just like to assume
That no matter the age difference between the parents,
My children be blessed with ones who love and cherish;
Rather than ones who are close in experience,
Who command the household like tyrants
And make their children bleed at the seams.

I would just like to know that through the flower of my love
A courageous seed may be planted,
One that will outwit the darkness
And fight on to a world of light in which
Love is simply that and
Assumptions are kept in the minds of tyrants.

Shortly after the school systems began defecating on the dreams of my generation,
We found different outlets
Through which we could bring our loathing to a head.
My generation now writes poetry and
Finds solace in video games we can beat
In lives we can't seem to live the right way.

It's funny to me that The Legend of Zelda,
When completed,
Tells you that "You are great!"
While your teacher berates you for being sub-par
Though you tried your damnedest
To please them through drafts and drafts
And drafts of work
Spat out at 4am because
There are more important things to deal with
In regular waking hours,
In regular waking life.

They tell us that we have failed
Because we ****** up in one class,
A single credit,
A single number on a sheet of paper
That tries to measure us
When we can't even attempt to do the same.
They tell us we have failed
Because we do not look good on file
And apparently we do not look good
Walking down the street
With ****** eyes and baggy sweaters,
The only clean clothes we own
Because the system has ****** us clean of time
To do much else than
Study, study, STUDY our **** lives away.

This is atrocious.
When a young boy feels more accomplished
Beating Pokemon
Than he does when he writes a stellar paper,
The best he can pen
Only to be told he has a lot more work to do
And that the paper
"Is good...
But it needs work."

The culture of my generation does not discriminate.
It does not tell us that we have more work to do.
Instead, it tells us that "we are great" and
It gives us a restart screen when we **** up beyond repair.
It does not tell us we have failed,
Instead offers us a kind
"Try again?"

It is sad
When the voice over of a video game
Offers more kindness
Than our instructors and parents
Combined.

School should not send us home, wanting to **** ourselves.
The system should not make a pen cap,
A pair of underpants, a simple metal bookmark
A weapon
In the hands of the human entity of depression.

We will not be marked suicide risks.
As long as we keep getting our restart screens and
Compliments from bits,
We will triumph.
We will be the heroes of our generation
As long as we keep getting the chance.

One day, when all the suffering is over
And we have escaped this war-torn soul of "The Caring Community,"
Maybe those words will extend from an NES and find their way
Into the mouth of a boyfriend, girlfriend,
Wife, husband, friend, professor...

Someday, we will hear the words and we will truly believe them.

"You are great!"

Maybe not today...

But someday.

Soon.

I was not the one who lost your ******* daughters shoes.
I did not force you
To have *** with a man
Who you viewed as a mistake in the first place;
I did not force you to **** him,
Sans ******
And bring me into the world.

***** do not know what they are racing to
And if they did,
I can assure you that no one,
No one
Would be here today.

I did not tie your tubes
And force you to raise three children
When you are still a child yourself,
Unaware of the grace of JFK
And knowledge of basic admiration
That fuels the care of this world.

I did not make you become void and listless,
I did not make you my personal servant
Rather, you made me yours.
I did not ask for such torture as this,
Bleeding my veins through everything,
Loving me only when you are out of smokes
And want a cigarette.

I did not ruin your life
And I did not waste my time
Trying to make you happy through these years.
I attempted to better myself
All the while looking at you for reference.

Do not blame me
And look at me as if I were a criminal
When I pack up my things
And run, run
Run the hell away from you.

Because I was not the one who ****** up in the first place.
I was not the one
Who lost your ******* daughters shoes.