When I die,
I don't want to be buried.
I don't want a casket.
I don't want a tombstone.

I don't really want much of a funeral.
I simply want whomever desires
To say something about me
To do so
(Whether it's good, bad, or funny).

I want to be burned
In a cardboard box,
And as I'm being cremated,
I want someone
To read a poem that I have written
For that very occasion.

When I'm all turned to ashes,
I want them to put me
In a cheap little container
And throw my ashes into the wind.
Maybe over a field, a forest, or the ocean--
Whatever, so long as it's windy there.

Mostly,
I don't want my loved ones to have a
Specific place to visit me

Because
I want to be the one
Who visits my loved ones

So I can give them kisses
When the wind
Brushes their cheeks.

they told me that true beauty
came from within
so i tore myself open
and i slit my skin
i hoped that some beauty would leak out
but all it did was fill me with doubts
they lied to me
why would they do such a thing?
no beauty on the outside
and no beauty within
and all that was left of my ceaseless attempts
were my       u g l y     scars
lining my body, my heart and my head


**( c )

I could keep writing you poems you'll never read

Or I could put my pen down and bandage my own heart

Either way, I would still lose because I wouldn't have you

Many of my poems used to be Gold but
now they are covered in fake metallic paint and unrealistic sequins.

What happened?

Blood doesn't mean
Anything anymore.
I wish black and blue ink
Would drip from
Every open wound
And pool together
to create
A tangle
Of
Pain,
Pleasure,
Purpose,
And make words
That mean nothing
To anyone but myself.