People like to blot
People like me out
With heavy clots of
Black ink
Or white out
Depending on how much damage
They want to pretend I did,
And how often they like to
Throw pity parties
And how much proof
They want to have.

I take ownership
Of my sins
But don't try to make them
More than they were.

But with how often
I've been
Blotted out

It's easy to understand
Why I want you to
Remember my name.

It's easy to erase someone
From your memory
From existence
And pretend they were never
A part of you
Or you never a part of them

It takes great bravery
To look at the mistakes you made
And admit they were yours.

He was smiling,
But I know that smile.
That's the
"Thinking about something else, someone else. Are we done yet?"
Smile.

He made a silly face,
But I know that face.
That's the
"How many likes can this get, how much immediate gratification can I get?"
Face.

He held her close,
And I cringe.
Not because it hurts,
No.
I cringe because I feel pity for the poor girl.
I know that body language.
That's the
"You are a possession,  you are an item."
Way he holds his arms.
That's the
"You're a trophy, you're my possession."
Way he props his shoulders.

I don't appreciate her friends
Sending me pictures of them together,
But after blocking them,
I push down the urge to save her.
It's not my business, it's not my place.
Hopefully he changed for her.

But I know that the self-serving monster
That he is
Will always somehow survive.

Of course, what do I know?
He was a blip on my radar of life.
A single year gone to waste.

His wounds won't last
So deep.

in time, everyone
forgets. & maybe that
is not as bad as it sounds.
what if we sing
a song into the void
& something
shouts back.
consider
your worst wound bleeding
anything but red & rest
easy, child,
nothing’s burning yet.
imagine a city
knee deep in
promises & pink light.
in time, I will
forget. & maybe that
is comforting.
if one day I wake & cannot
remember your
name, I will be glad
to meet you
again
& again.
in a city alight,
in a wound-colored
rapture,
in time, you may
forget me. & maybe
you should.

I used to look into her eyes and see
someone beautiful and intelligent and magnificent.
I'd look at her face, smooth pale skin
and red-gold hair, and see a spark within her.
She never thought her fire would go out,
being because she was such a fiery young girl.

But then she got older.

I used to look into her eyes and see
a flicker of the flame that used to be.
I looked into her face,
fierce and hard with years of emotional abuse
and I thought to myself that the fire was still there,
though it was just a flicker.

But then, one day, it went out.

I'm staring into her eyes now,
wondering who the hell she is;
Wondering what happened to the flame of a girl.
She is unrecognizable to me.
But I think.... I think somewhere
underneath this stone cold face..
I think this stranger....

**Is me.

I've got a lot on my mind so can I say my piece?
then I can just kiss my teeth
now I've made my peace
I've got a job, I'm the police;
self righteous justice
If killing time ain't good enough
then well, just **** this

I'm ******* now,
I cook a hand grenade
throw it to a crowd, explosive;
that's my sound
my life is darkness;
like in a shroud
am I too loud for your ears to handle?
Well then lets take a gamble
get the ******* my cloud
I'm shoutin' proud from here to Blackpool

Let's have a party
yeah that's cool, so where's the pedestal?
I'm like a statue frozen in motion
action shot, I'm not posin'
but I'm proposin' if we cut the ****
and get them flows in
and everyone is bouncin'
then we can turn this house in
Inside out,
it's about,
the beat,
the love,
the flow,
that steals,
the show,
if you don't know what I've been told
then I suggest you let it go

"Where is my invite? I think i missed it"
well despite the fright
you may have given yourself
I didn't send one girl, just look at yourself
In this life it's all about perfection
****** protection
affection and nation wide elections

I like to fly so high
in the sky and I do it with pride
I'm not a drugs kind of guy but
happiness is synthesized and if that's a crime
then I guess I'm crooked!
but I'm always lookin' for a way out
so if you won't let me in then I stay out
I feel I'm down and I'm definitely out,
so I guess I should pray now

Then god tells me
life is predicaments and resolutions
promoting solutions and twisting
the truth in constitutions
changing pace in relations
and pretending we never took welfare
out of the equation

There are fears
I can't stand for
when there are reasons
to get out from under them

We cast stones
and hide the hand
for there are chances
To find we're doing too well

Lying to ourselves
wanting it all here and now
complaining about frustration
but so afraid of existencially change

Scared of the truth
we don't want to know,
carrying our heavy brains along
that feel so full and despoiled the same

So high and dry
once roots pull us deeper
we're too fooled and stuck
But eyes start whining shouting out loud

We pretend to care
of our mistreated spirit
but it's left alone fixing us
spilling visions of good things

bigger and closer than they really were
somehow kept in mind by heart
because being made of love
we're meant to see and feel
and be who we really are.

"God. You're so ugly without your makeup. You know you really shouldn't show your face in public. You don't want to end up on that People of Walmart website."

Yeah I know.

"No seriously. You look like you've been hit by a bus."

Nope. Not hit by a bus. Just your ****** comments.

"You know they say sarcasm is just a deflection of an internal struggle, it's an underling issue to something bigger. Maybe you're going crazy."

I'm not going crazy. I'm getting my **** together. I'm in college now.

"Yeah, sure."

No. I wake up at a reasonable hour everyday. I take a shower and do my hair and make up. I do my homework and I make good grades. How can I be crazy when I'm getting my **** together. I have my **** together!

"Look at your room."

What about it?

"It's a mess."

So what?

"It's a mess. Just like you are. You are a mess."

I am not.

"You can shut the door and pretend it doesn't exist. Just like you're doing with that mask you put on every morning. Beyond these walls you're a fake. But behind them, they show who you truly are."

And what's that?

"That you're crazy and chaos. Your room represents what's on the inside. You're falling apart."

I am not crazy.

"Not crazy? As if. You've just been talking to your reflection for the past 10 minutes. Just like you have every day for the past four years. Just wait sweetie, one day I'll come out and play."