I scroll down
The same story flashes by
I see this simple outward gesture
You taunt me because I won't do the same
It isn't out of hate

I think the way to make a difference is to listen
Or to smile
To forget about labels and just breathe a sigh of letting go
Not by shouting words of hate
In caps lock letters
The way to stop any form of abuse
Isn't through harassing others
Because they don't share your opinion

Some people think it is an abomination to be gay
Others judge that it is a sin to judge
And there is too much hate in the world
On both sides

So stop changing your profile picture
And start kindness.

Take it from someone who works customer service
People aren't kind
Not usually
Instead of fighting against this fight
Just everyone... Take a deep breath
Count to 10
And stop fighting

That is the only way we will ever have peace.

I would never
Refer to myself
As a
Murderer.

There's no blood
Stained on my hands,

Except my own.

Me
I'm

"the yin, the dishonesty, the wilted flower, the missed bus, the south pole, the depressive, the bad, the foul, the sinner, the mad, the spoiled and spilled milk, the F on your final paper, the nightmare, the rain, sleet, snow, thunder, and lightning."

You
You're

"the yang, the truth, the full bloom of spring, the early bird, the north pole, the manic, the good, the superior, the saint, the sane, the right amount of sweet in your cereal, the A+ when you least expected it, the daydream, the bright, beautiful, sunny, with a cool breeze day."

They say we mesh well, that we need the one to appreciate the other, that without me; there would be no you.

And so I put the bullet in the chamber, not knowing whether to bite it, or to save it for the rain, sleet, snow, thunder, and lightning.

I'm just like you
Take a look in the mirror
I have the same features as you
I have the same pain
If not more
Hell awaits my coming
But till then I shall feed Lady Death
With the souls of those I ****
But they don't have a soul
Because they are all me
I'm a serial killer poet
But its not anybody you know I ****
I **** the multiple personalities
To the sick and twisted side of my mind
Let me be the next victim please
I can't stand to live this way
I am awaiting the chair
Maybe lethal injection
Anything will be better than this
Constantly killing
I'm just the typical serial killer poet
I hunger for blood
Thirst for the scent of rotting flesh
I get off with my constant suicide
I envy the way I die
But sadly I cannot attain this gift
I'm a serial killer poet
But I **** myself within my poetry
Not people I don't know in life
So call me crazy
Throw me in an asylum
Lock me up and throw away the key
I will continue to be nothing more
Than a serial killer poet

I wish

I wish for you and I
To walk this Earth
Hand in hand
Eternally

A moment on your lips
An eternal kiss
I wish

the stubborn silence of mountains.

You are earthen. I am fluid.

As my soft May rain
kisses the willow's leaves
before falling into your warm soil,
the sweet breath of spring
and new beginnings soothes our tired, wintry pains.

The water feeds the root.

My head upon your chest,
a cloud filled lake on a patient mountain.

Memories of our moments,
rocks on a riverbed,
worn smooth and beautiful by time and silt.

Your lava burns a path,
a fertile home
where future fields of wheat will see no tears,
before finally,
with a fiery sigh,
you come to rest in the salt of my ocean.

The ancient root drinks the timeless water.

The mountains nap. The oceans breathe.

A moment,
a look,
a hand on a leg becomes
a small stone of your love
skipped once,
twice,
threefourfive times
before settling to the bottom
among a thousand other memories
polished smooth.

The willow branches caress the shore.
The lake rests in the mountains embrace.
Rain and roots, earthworms.

At last, at last.