you girls with your hair falling over your face
framed in the black and white depth of personality
I'd much rather color than this mindless
pretentiousness of the galaxies
falling and failing through reality
into your arms and you surround me
at last I don't have to fake or hide
my face is not a shameful mask
you girls with your hair falling in front of your face
writing poems about boys and how uncomfortable queers make you
you're the reason of the season
you're why I'm hiding because your galaxy isn't big enough for you
and mine's just right
and you hate that, you hate that I'm happy and perfect-
you hate that my life satisfies me because yours doesn't
and that, maybe, is why you're so ******* miserable.

caring about you makes my stomach hurt now
and if that isn't a sign of change, and change for the better
then I don't know what is.

children play war in their ***** backyards
but when we grow up and start to drive cars
we learn that our lives are worth more than that
we stop playing games and stop fighting back
because we knew all along in the back of our minds
that the guns never worked and we shouldn't have tried.

he's making you think that your tiny mistakes spell out
your whole life's failure. You are not the sum of your mistakes.
Especially not this one. Forget to turn in one application and
your whole future isn't blown out the window.
he's making you forget scale, forget proportion, forget love
acting as though its the end of the world,
he's wrong.
he wouldn't know a good kid or a mistake if it slapped him in the face
he doesn't know that his mistakes have ripped apart his family, torn his soul to shreds
and you are not to blame. Dear Lord, you are not to blame.

Thunder.
outside my window.
(or is that the sound of you
writing someone else's name
in your poem?)

**** it all, I'm going to be happy.

as if it means nothing to me
as if it could mean anything but everything

I want to see the light in your eyes
but you think poetry is stupid.
Poetry is all I've ever known.
Am I stupid?

Love is the reason for our existence.
My personal neck tattoo would say L-O-V-E-R.
If you're too cynical to ever be happy...
...maybe I'll have to find someone more like me.

I know where you are, I think, but I change my story every time
I'm not sure where you lie, I know that you carve an arc
to Arcturus, the fourth-brightest light in the sky
and to me, I guess, it doesn't matter if that's the star
at which I'm pointing- what matters is that it's there
and for all I care, what matters is what people on Earth
think of me and your muttered glow shining down upon my hair.

I don't know what else to tell you except to *******

I heard a voice in a dream tell me
love never ends
not even when the world falls down
when the people around you are in a game
when you aren't yourself
when you dislike somebody or left them alone
when you loved them once and thought you never would again
love never ends.

Why, then, do our hearts demand complete, unconditional, individual love
when no one we know is capable of giving it?

Because we were made for that love. Christ's love.
Nothing else can possibly suffice.

if you're scared, just keep your eyes on me.

**** **** **** **** hell ****
not this again **** **** what the ****
why does this **** **** happen
every ******* time and why can't normal
****** love happen normally like a ****
real life story

"We have two natures. An animal nature and a human nature. Our animal nature is derived from 40 million years of ape history. We are 98.9 per cent chimp DNA. Chimpanzees are territorial, hierarchical, patriarchal and they are competitive-aggressive. We, as social beings, are territorial, hierarchical, patriarchal and competitive-aggressive. But we have something else. The chimps can’t break out of that… [but] human nature breaks boundaries. Our human nature says, You know what, I am going to be free… We are constantly pulled between our animal nature and human nature. We are torn between the two. And it is not resolved in anyone’s lifetime."

I am more afraid of the animal nature of the human than I am
of anything else
show me someone sitting and learning and I will cheer
show me someone playing an elaborate game and I will applaud
show me someone loving and I will weep
show me someone controlling themselves and I will hold up my fist
but show me someone rabid, lustful, forceful, and animalistic
to the point that watching them is like watching an angry dog
and I will cower- there is nothing more terrifying
than someone who has lost their own humanity
because humanity is not our ability to feel- no, anyone can do that
all animals feel
humanity is our ability to understand how and why we feel
and to act on that
humanity is not our ability to love, it is our ability to act with love,
and even when you hate someone and wish they were dead,
it is the ability to choose, despite the rage inside you, to hold them
and to let them cry in your arms, even if they haven't paid their
share in the bills, even if they yelled at you last night, even
if they didn't pick up your daughter when you asked them to,
even as they fall further and further away from you, when their
mother dies, you know exactly what to do
and you let them cry, because humanity is the ability to rise above
feelings, to not let them rule you,
and it is the ability to act as though no one else can do it
to respect their emotions as if they have no control
because maybe they do, maybe they don't
it is your duty to hold them, that's what humanity is,
to hold them,
and to love them anyway.

if I could simplify life down to a word or quote
an always or never, black or white
then I would. But I can't.
It's not that simple. We live a life of gray and sometimes.

I have a tag on tumblr
specifically called 'parenting'
so that if and when the time comes
I remember what I needed when I was younger
and I can be that person for my child.
I write love letters to my future spouse
sometimes in pen and sometimes on the typewriter
so that if and when the time comes
they know how long I've waited for them,
they know that they're a dream come true
and how amazing it is that I can wake up to see them next to me.

keep your head up,
keep your heart strong,
keep your mind set,
keep your hair long.

and it's dangerous, for people like me,
because they truly will do anything for silence
but I am not like the others, I am not like the others
or am I?

And it's alright
Calling out for somebody to hold tonight
When you're lost, you'll find a way
I'll be your light
You'll never feel like you're alone
I'll make this feel like home

my religion is not obedience
my religion is love
but in order to love, I must be obedient
to the one from whom love comes
I am not a slave to my church
I find love through my church,
and that is my choice-
do you begrudge me an increase in virtue?
do you want me to be more hateful?
I am loved, and I will love in return
of my own free will-
and I am ultimately free-
free to control my actions
for that is what free will is
ability to control one's self
so I have controlled myself and bent my heart and mind
to love
love
love
and love.
I am serving the best purpose there is-
and I'd like you beside me,
if you want to come.

could it be that it's a lesson that I never had to learn?

stone cold sober and I'm afraid my heart
will never be anything but stone
for anyone but gin and juice.

I'm entertained by the thought of talking to myself
I haven't yet met a mind as perfect for me
as, well, me
and maybe an imaginary friend wouldn't go amiss
in this whirlwind of loneliness and
mindless stimuli.
I'm busy constantly, on my phone,
studying,
sleeping,
playing an instrument,
'quiet time' is only when I'm with other people
because I can go on autopilot
and alone is when I think too fast for speaking or writing
alone is when my mind fades into white noise
alone is when the walls don't feel like walls.
I'm entertained by the thought of talking to myself
because I need someone with me,
especially when there's no one there,
because that's the worst time for proper thinking;
-I'm always distracted, never-focused-
other people focus me.
other people are the magnifying lens, the bounce-off,
alone is terrifying so I avoid it by stimulating my mind
with pointless ****,
while talking to myself would
probably be more productive.
I'm entertained by the thought of talking to myself,
because that way,
I'd never have to be alone.

Somebody told me
that in their dream
I had said, 'Love is so hard to find,'
and they said, 'I'm right here'
and we kissed
and then another person
took my face in their hands
and giggled, and didn't, and I failed,
I always have that dream when I just hold someone
I just hold them in my arms all night long and that's when I know it will end
some people are scared love will never find them because they've never felt it
and I think they're lucky, they're lucky because love hurts
it hurts and its an ordeal that will scar your heart
I'm scared my heart is too scarred to pump anymore
I'm tired of falling for people,
and I dreamed of you every night for months and
you didn't dream of me, you didn't look at me,
you don't owe me anything for me just being nice to you
but I don't hate you for not loving me,
I hate myself for loving you.

what is valuable about our individuality?
we know, or think we know, that
we've always acknowledged its importance,
but I want a concrete answer-
why is it important that I am different than you?
why is it important that I am better than you?
why is it important that we be divided?
why is it important that I am-
rather than we are?

as the sparks flew I felt my own helplessness
and naked, numb fear, and ignorance
at having smoked a cigarette in the only lonely
place I knew- what I had not considered
is that my secret place is full of dead leaves and dried needles
just waiting to be lit ablaze.

Shouting through the desert
and there's no one to hear
because my poems about love aren't
accurate, or good enough, when
words cannot describe what they are meant to describe. I like grass between my toes
and wind in your hair
and how it feels to wake up
and the way you look when you wake up
that smile that you only just started having
I can't write it down because
the spark in your eye has never been visible before, and no one has seen it but me
I like hugs and kisses and late night talks and
breakfast food and blue skies and gray skies
green skies red skies
and shouting through the desert is all I can do.

a while ago, you told me
mr. huck told you that
"men have *** for power" and
"women have *** for love"
and you'd thought to yourself, wait,
I'd do it for power.
I can't help but wonder-
if I had told you that you could've had me
on my knees begging for mercy,
twice,
would things have been different?

There was a boat in a sea I knew
Couldn't believe what I saw was true
I swam out through the waves
I caught it as it moved away

I said I'd stole you away
I said I'd stole you away
Next time I'll steal you away
Next time I'll steal you, darling, you stay

There was a change
In the way you breathe
I couldn't believe
You would change for me

And if you hear the sound
Of shooting stars
Protect your heart 'cause it burns back
And turns back around

I said I'd stole you away
I said I'd stole you away
Next time I'll steal you away
Next time I'll steal you, darling, you stay

High strung your soul
It's uncovered by believing
And the things you see

You spent too long running
But there's nothing coming
Turn around and run into me

I said I'd stole you away
I said I'd stole you away
Next time I'll steal you away
Next time I'll steal you, darling, you stay

and my heart feels different from everyone who has
traced their path over its green and rocky shores
all the steps you have left have trampled in the dust
and rain has fallen in your footsteps
rain has fallen in your footsteps and you danced-
how you danced, to catch the droplets in your mouth-
to taste them, joyously singing while I watched you prance
over the shores of my heart- walking the steps
through my veins and pulsing in my arteries
you, oh beloved ones, shall never be forgotten
because everything you are is carved into my bones
scored upon my marrow
and built into my muscles- I am a named bullet
and have always been one- though the bullet is
wearing down from the number of names etched upon it
and my heart can only pump so many types of blood
before it gives up.

superboy and the invisible girl
son of steel and daughter of air
he's a hero, a lover, a prince,
she's not there.

for all my seeming comfort in ****** things
the ease at which I talk about banging, *******, *******
the instant someone's body comes close to mine,
inside that intimate area of personal space
I have NO idea what to do
so I panic, giggle, shut down, move away,
anything but, for I am maybe not ready
and maybe waiting for someone to make me ready.

every bird dies but only phoenixes rise.

I don't have a wordblock, nor am I speechless
nor am I dumbfounded, nor am I helpless
in fact, I have a whole lot of choice words on the tip of my tongue
but I'm choosing not to say them.

I've got a lot of dead skin to slough off and a lot of people
that have forgotten how to love
of whom I need to let go.

I've seen a lot more meanness in this city
it's the kind that eats you up inside
it's hard to come away with anything that feels like dignity
it's hard to get home with any pride.

so we'll ******* the neighbors
in a place that feels the tears
the place you lose your fears
yeah, reckless behavior.

"...but don't you feel trapped? Like you have no free will?"
I do have free will.
and I choose this life again and again,
in every breath.
I choose to give my life for Christ
and that is not submission of my free will
that is using my free will
and I choose to bend and submit
to someone who will pick the absolute best life for me
because I know I get confused in this life
and I ***** up all the time-
so the Om, the Lord of the Universe,
will guide me through whatever actions
I must take
in order to unify the universe
and spread peace and love to all.
Naturally, the one who is connected to everything
knows how best to save us from suffering,
so I choose to open myself to that energy,
the Holy Spirit-
because I was a slave to my worst human desires
inability to deny yourself is slavery-
you lack complete control
and you cannot further aspire.
If you are lord over your own body
you can reach unprecedented heights
so I will be lord over my own body
I will take this fight
and the 'I' is in tap with the
fundamental energies of the universe
so that my body will be directed for the greater good.
Don't tell me I don't have free will.
I am exercising it as I write.
My chosen path is this:
I will use whatever I can to serve the Lord of light,
I will kneel at His feet if He will guide me forth,
I will serve, for I know I am not greater than those beside me,
I will strive to make their lives better,
not worse.
I will use my arms.
I will use my mind.
I will use my charm.
I will use my smile.
I will use my heart.
I will use my voice.
I do have free will,
and this is my choice.

make it easy.
say I never mattered.
run it up the flagpole.

everybody wants to be right absolutely
but I, I am always wrong
and always right
so are you.
liberating, isn't it?
now all that's left is for us to understand each other.

2015 ends tomorrow
and with it, all the *******.

you were selling boys to teach the class how to kiss
and for some reason, I spoke up, like I usually do,
and I asked, "how much for the master?"
and you looked at me with your mouth slightly open like you usually do, and said
"are you flirting with me?"
to which I responded,
"yes. is there a problem?"
and you smiled
and then later, alone for the private lesson,
I felt your lips on mine,
soft and pressing, in time together,
pulsing with our heartbeats
slowly, at first, working our way up,
a little tongue here and there,
you'd stop and chastise me
there's something intimate about lips on lips that's more than just skin
it's the warmth and force and desire
our bodies pressed together
and then
I saw you again alone later in the dream
and, eyes full of longing, leaned
forward, and you told me the lesson was over
and I kissed you anyway
I saw you again in the shower, naked,
pressed against me, wet and soft
and you told me the lesson was over
and we kept kissing anyway.

I never understood people who look back on
their childhood, back to the best most innocent times of their lives
because my years weren't like that
five years was reading, alone in her room
six years was the beginning of cynicism, telling everyone that those blow up animals were not people and never were
seven years was the beginning of understanding social constructs, feeling lonely in kindergarten but not sure why. I watched a girl from across the playground and fell in love and proposed to her in front of the class but the teacher hushed me and hurried everyone away
eight years was my first best friend but the realization I had no female friends and when they told me I was weird I didn't know what to do so I just shut down
nine years was when my friends declared war on me in the school yard and the first time someone expected me to like a boy
ten years was the beginning of anxiety and the first obsession: owls
eleven years was depression, grades dropping, awkward cargo shorts, when I first knew about *** and that year I loved wolves
twelve years was my first love (second if you count the girl in kindergarten) I waited for him outside his mom's classroom and I thought he was the most beautiful of all humanity. he was my newest obsession. I dated that boy with the silly name but we never talked in person and I started feeling something like a crush for my friend sofia. I found someone else to love at my new school and I was forced to admit my sexuality to myself
thirteen years was when I told Pam and everyone at school that I liked girls and I had my first sleepover, my first taste of 'popularity', I kissed my first girl, thirteen was when the anxiety faded away, the world appeared bright and clear. I found God that year. I hurtled through a roller coaster and my parents cursed me out the first time and I loved it, I loved every second
fourteen years was when I recognized my own soul and when others did too, it was when I stopped reading because the real world was good enough, I kissed someone that I didn't love but his lips were warm and the sun was bright that day and he called me 'his girl' and I loved that, if not him.
fifteen years was when I shouldered the responsibility of my impact and I understood what the world needed from me and I was ready to do it, I learned what love looked like that year and I found my favorite genre of
music and I can finally speak in front of people, I have friends that love me and I will never lose myself away from this world because it is finally beautiful, there is no magic of my childhood to return to because the magic is now, I am ready and willing to grow old and throw myself raw into this world with cares and worries because that is what makes life great and at sixteen I hope to lose myself to passion and go crazy with love, I hope to learn how to treat people and hold them close, I hope to become selfless, toss my soul in the fire, I hope there are many dark starry nights and many lonely rainy mornings and many sunny car rides and my birthday is in the winter so my world has always revolved around getting warmer, I was born when it was dark but it got brighter, it keeps getting brighter and bigger and warmer and sixteen will take me further than I ever thought I could go.

and in less than two years, I'll be free.
We all will.

“Critics who treat 'adult' as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence. And in childhood and adolescence they are, in moderation, healthy symptoms. Young things ought to want to grow. But to carry on into middle life or even into early manhood this concern about being adult is a mark of really arrested development. When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.”

all the songs we listen to tell us
"I just love them so much and if I just
love them enough and just write this song
then everything will work out and they'll love me too"
but that's not how it works, love is not a serenade
love is a relationship, a partnership and something
that isn't rehearsed or dramatic, it's a duet
of terrible voices as they try to harmonize and fail
but laugh, and dance together, and people who
are too uncomfortable to say what they feel
it can never be perfect, but it is musical, I think
just not what we expect- and we have to train ourselves
and relearn what it means to be a human person
we've been taught wrong. forget it. it's not what you think.

if I can
save one life
change one heart
touch one soul
then I will have succeeded.

it has been a long time since I have written.
I can feel the words pulsing like worlds throughout me
but I cannot express them like I used to, my cogs are rusty and
the conveyor belt paused, not for maintenance but
for lack of workers, they died in their confined control
room, barking orders to the rest of it. They died here
trying to run this mystical wonderland
and have not been able to return.

I love the smell of waking up early
because it reminds me of a time
when I loved none, and all
and even though I knew I must eventually go home,
I would never again have to feel alone.