I always point you out, don't I? I have a story to tell
about two star-crossed brothers. One was born
mortal, the other a god- they found their home
in each other. The mortal one died, went to hell-
and the god cried out in agony, and, Olympus watching, fell.

Why, even surrounded by all these people,
do I feel such a crushing loneliness?

am I whole? could
we make each other whole
without effort to fix each other
without any forced input or 'save me'
or holding hands as we traverse a cliff
overly romantic atmospheres or difficult discussions
maybe just laughter, maybe just simple togetherness
adventure, laziness; friendship
with nothing but fluidity
and basic, easy love.

I agree that I cannot have you
and you seem to be avoiding me almost
as much as I've been trying to avoid you
but God did a fabulous job making that
eye roll you do when you aren't fascinated
and your smile, how it goes from zero to earth-shaking
in a split second
and how when you run, you pointedly don't look at the sidelines
but I know you can hear me.
In fact, I know you can always hear me-
when I'm giving love advice to anybody and telling them to go for it
and then inform them, "I'm projecting."
when I'm talking about my achievements to someone else because I'm scared you won't care.
when I talk about boys to maybe let you know I don't care and maybe make you jealous.
And I think you don't analyze these things nearly as much as I do-
but to say there is a mundane reason for everything you do is to discredit you.
I'm pulling a Darcy
and I'm scared you're the type of Lizzy
to leave forever and never look back.

heartbeat racing, face flushing, core frozen,
fingers tracing, thoughts binding and lost,
eyes meddling, feet tapping, leg shaking,
knee bending, muscles stretching, brain working,
emotions zooming, horizon closing,
frantically thinking, decidedly acting to
sitting back and lazing, forgetting, unwinding
numbing and breaking, glancing and gliding.

at this point it doesn't matter why

I could feel your heart beating
but not exactly from the location
where a heart usually beats
and you grabbed my head in your hands
and I kept thinking about kissing you
but it's not about you
it's never about you
it's just that I'm lonely and want to touch anybody
it's like a desperate hunger or thirst now
I'm suffocating without the feeling
of lips on lips
It's been too long since my last kiss
and I'm a little tired and broken
forever spiritually moving
never physically or even in my relationships
all my intelligence and insight
can't get me a **** make-out session
For all the violin and basketball and singing and poetry and character in the world
I haven't been able to win anyone's heart
please, let me win someone's heart
and preferably their body along with it.

"All the towering materialism which dominates the modern mind rests ultimately upon one assumption; a false assumption. It is supposed that if a thing goes on repeating itself it is probably dead; a piece of clockwork. People feel that if the universe was personal it would vary; if the sun were alive it would dance. This is a fallacy even in relation to known fact. For the variation in human affairs is generally brought into them, not by life, but by death; by the dying down or breaking off of their strength or desire. A man varies his movements because of some slight element of failure or fatigue. He gets into an omnibus because he is tired of walking; or he walks because he is tired of sitting still. But if his life and joy were so gigantic that he never tired of going to Islington, he might go to Islington as regularly as the Thames goes to Sheerness. The very speed and ecstacy of his life would have the stillness of death. The sun rises every morning. I do not rise every morning; but the variation is due not to my activity, but to my inaction. Now, to put the matter in a popular phrase, it might be true that the sun rises regularly because he never gets tired of rising. His routine might be due, not to a lifelessness, but to a rush of life. The thing I mean can be seen, for instance, in children, when they find some game or joke that they specially enjoy. A child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we. The repetition in Nature may not be a mere recurrence; it may be a theatrical ENCORE. Heaven may ENCORE the bird who laid an egg. If the human being conceives and brings forth a human child instead of bringing forth a fish, or a bat, or a griffin, the reason may not be that we are fixed in an animal fate without life or purpose. It may be that our little tragedy has touched the gods, that they admire it from their starry galleries, and that at the end of every human drama man is called again and again before the curtain. Repetition may go on for millions of years, by mere choice, and at any instant it may stop. Man may stand on the earth generation after generation, and yet each birth be his positively last appearance.”

I'm the shining distraction that makes you fly
and maybe you're falling for it
my fools' gold
maybe my love's not real
but that's not the way it feels
and you've let me use you from the day we first met
but you're not done yet
falling for my
fools' gold.

it feels as though I'm constantly going a little crazy
it seems as though those who keep it inside do not burn with the same force
as I do, for who could withstand a swirling, twisting, turning vortex
a hurricane of thought and constant lyrics and themes and destruction
as the galaxies swirl inside my mind, they pain me more and more because
the black hole in the center is not strong enough
to withstand the centrifugal force, neurons are firing too fast and
they must escape, they must work their will on the world
it must be torturous for those who keep their minds trapped in their minds
it must be a crucifixion to not let the planets fly free, spinning into
the dark universe, someone with an IQ of 148 must create,
create or burn, burn down like the building you spent your life carving
it seems to be that the lesser genius is the one that does not impact
for if you do not impact, does it really hurt that much? if your mind
is not exploding and tearing at the edges of your existence, is it
really a genius? if your galaxy is dividing and throbbing and overturning
like mine is, how can you keep it in? why would you want to?
those who tame their passions show only that their passions are
weak enough to be tamed- I am not weak enough to be tamed
my river courses beyond the bounds of its banks
and it is too forceful to keep it in, it breaks the levee
wreaks its wrath on the city, it cannot only shape the silt and serve its purpose
it must do more, it must do more, it must do more
and so it marks its legacy on the annals of history in the textbooks
taunting the dreams of children, it is by far the greater genius
for if it is great, then there is no way that it can be contained
your eyes must burn with the fire for your art and your hands must
shake when they touch the instrument, your mind must race with words
for your poetry, your brain must see the calculations as the numbers
dance behind your eyes for there is nothing you can do to get away from it
you must talk about it as though there is nothing in the world
if it does not strain you to escape then it must not exist
the true genius is not tempered, it is obsessive, it burns and burns and burns,
we are a dying star spitting its sparks, it
compulses, whirls, throws its light across the sea, and turns,
the world would be darker without it, and the true genius knows that
so the true genius burns.

everybody loves somebody
especially me
everybody loves somebody
in a glorious, stupid tragedy.

After all this time?

Always.

“All great and precious things are lonely.”
It has been a cold, cold river of hope and desperation
the greatest glories do not die, they are as young as the dawn
and yet- the night will come, and your name will be shortened,
for we all view things as outside of ourselves and we view them wrongly
“And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual. This is what I am and what I am about.”
and we even think of our own lovers on a pedestal-
we do not allow them to think alone, but if we do,
we ignore them and pretend that they do not- our brothers impregnate
our wives and we love them anyway, both wife and brother,
for neither is any tarnished in our mind- a man exists alone and
can work the machinations of others and play them,
stripping them of their freedom though they still believe themselves
to be free-
“I believe that there is one story in the world, and only one. . . . Humans are caught—in their lives, in their thoughts, in their hungers and ambitions, in their avarice and cruelty, and in their kindness and generosity too—in a net of good and evil. . . . There is no other story. A man, after he has brushed off the dust and chips of his life, will have left only the hard, clean questions: Was it good or was it evil? Have I done well—or ill?”
we all believe ourselves to be good, we strive for good,
but who are we? what is good? how can we be good when we are not sure
what that is, who we are, or where we strove from? it can be measured,
certainly, by our glories, that are God-given,
it can be passed through blood and at first we think,
once you have it, you have it,
but that is not true- Cain was not given an order or an ultimatum
he was not given a promise, he was given an opportunity
“But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if ‘Thou mayest’—it is also true that ‘Thou mayest not.”
Timshel- Timshel- Timshel-
what it is that is given to the human consciousness that gives it the right
and the ability to soar- we may or we may not, that is all
you are not what you are born as and there is nothing you may hide behind
“There's more beauty in truth, even if it is dreadful beauty.”
you may never escape the truth, the lies are what hold you back
but they are ugly, they are false, they shield you from encountering your own life-
your wife, a monster of a *****, who demands the worst of all
and cannot see the good- but you see only good in her
“A kind of light spread out from her. And everything changed color. And the world opened out. And a day was good to awaken to. And there were no limits to anything. And the people of the world were good and handsome. And I was not afraid any more.”
and your life was illuminated once again- for you have been gray
your whole life and have forgotten that the joy of the Irishman is false,
you have lost the name and mind of the Chinaman
but no longer-
“But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed - because 'Thou mayest.”
and it is not that you 'shall' soar and it is not that you 'must' soar
you can. you can. you can. that is all.
“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.”

I stopped myself from falling,
maybe that's a good thing, that I don't have to go all the way,
but I can't help but wonder if I'm ruining it
destroying my heart's capacity for complete love
and it's true, I won, it's through-
but is it a good thing that I cut myself off from loving you?
will I ever be able to let myself go again?
and if someone ends up loving me, what will I do?

Who the **** is Jane Austen and
why the **** do we consider her works masterpieces?
Jane "boring" Austen lived an ordinary life and wrote very articulate
and pointedly ordinary examinations of character and mundane things
such as first impressions, and virtue, and proper court manners
She is the equivalent of an Oscar-winning author, because she has
mastered the art of being stunningly, fascinatingly mediocre.
She is precisely in the middle, and so balanced there that we applaud her
verbal gymnastics skills.
Works like these don't seem to carry an opinion of much of anything,
They just kind of blankly exist,
the kind of production that, if turned into a movie,
would have a nice, bland, Enya soundtrack.
There are no tears, nothing to make you feel,
It acts to make you numb,
leave you with a vague sense of discomfort and frustration, like
"What's eating gilbert grape" or "little miss sunshine"
in that everyone agrees blindly that they're good, but
they're not exactly sure why they're good, because
they're too close to life and too far away, there's nothing real,
it's too unpleasant to ignore and too familiar to watch.
It's useless, I can see this **** every day,
movies and books are about extraordinary life, to inspire us,
change something,
not just to make us okay with how stagnant we are,
or to examine our stagnation.
These books don't change anything.
I refuse to read or to write anything that steps around
the eggshells that are the fragile opinions and egos of
this, the 'everybody gets a trophy' generation,
I will not submit to anything less than feral reality and a
crazy, completely insane world, because that's what it is
my beautiful blood is more than beautiful,
it's wild and hot and pumps faster with every gasping breath,
and it deserves literature worthy of the heart that holds it.

Maybe I am a star that is constantly engaged in dances
with others, always to swirl around the cosmos
and use each others' gravity to fling further
maybe, because we are stars, we have to wait til the night
to know where we are- and maybe, because we are stars
it was never our destiny to stay.

And we are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes,
If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking.
and Heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss,
and my heart turns violently inside of my chest,
I don't have time to maintain these regrets,
when I think about the way that
He loves us, oh how He loves us.

yes, He loves you absolutely, but because He loves you
He hates the parts of you that drive you away trom Him
even if you **** up, yeah, He still loves you
but you love Him less for it. a relationship
isn't when you catch yourself saying "I love you"
to an empty room at three in the morning- a relationship
is when you look into someone's eyes and neither of you have
to say it, but you do anyway, in broad daylight
God loves a murderer but the murderer does not love God
God loves you no matter what you do, but what you do
shows God and the whole world how much you love Him.

Come away with me in the night
Come away with me
And I will write you a song

Come away with me on a bus
Come away where they can't tempt us
With their lies

I want to walk with you
On a cloudy day
In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high
So won't you try to come

Come away with me and we'll kiss
On a mountaintop
Come away with me
And I'll never stop loving you

And I want to wake up with the rain
Falling on a tin roof
While I'm safe there in your arms
So all I ask is for you
To come away with me in the night
Come away with me

I was heading for the door, torn between anger and a fierce excitement, hearing the phone click down as I started past and feeling her swirl against me and I was lost, for the conflict between the ideological and the biological, duty and desire, had become too subtly confused. I went to her, thinking,

Let them break down the door, whosoever will, let them come.

it takes a boy to live, it takes a man to pretend he was there.
it's a long road to wisdom, but it's a short one to being ignored.
it takes a man to live, it takes a woman to make him compromise.

why is it that Jesus is my savior
my hope, the king, the ruler of the world
creator of the universe, Immanuel,
the Lamb, the Incarnation, the light,
the way, the truth, the life
alpha, omega, beginning and end
but from all these titles
the one that means most to me
is that He is my friend.

"There are no constraints on the human mind, no walls around the human spirit, no barriers to our progress except those we ourselves *****."

I want you to need me
just as desperately as I need you

...go on, twist the knife.

God the Father of mercies
does not demand much
He only wants us to be open to His love
we don't have to work for it
we were, in fact, made to be receptacles
we were made to be loved, first.
God's will is love and God's will created the whole universe
God is love. That means that nothing but love sustains us
nothing but mercy keeps us from the fires of hell.
How can you know the truth of our Lord and not be changed forever?

I tried, I tried, I tried.
That's all I can do
that's all anyone can do.

make fun of my church all you want
you can say it preaches hate
but please,
all the saints and fathers and doctors
have never taught anything but love
and forgiveness
I have never been taught anything that says
"judge thy neighbor"
or "cast the first stone"
so for you to say
you don't like what the catholic church teaches
what, exactly, don't you agree with?
"help the poor, clothe the naked, comfort widows"
"love thy neighbor as yourself"
"spread your joy and your light"
"be willing to give your life for your friends"
honestly. what are you talking about?
the catholic church is not a business
it is not corrupted,
you sound like the erudite who believed
the purely selfless were corrupt
because that's a lie.
the holiest, kindest, most gracious people
run this church
and our doors are always open
we feed the hungry, shelter the homeless
the we have our arms ready to embrace anyone who needs it
and we find pure happiness in everything we do
What more do you want?
What is our religion doing wrong?

my heart craves something
anything.
lightning, love, hate, fire...
CLEAR!
jolt me, please,
electrify my veins, I've been still way too long-
CLEAR!
the last one like cholesterol
stopping the beats and starving me of oxygen
I don't want something to clog me again-
CLEAR!
I want fresh, free-flowing blood-
CLEAR!
I'll kiss anyone if it just
starts my heart again.
Please, God, start my heart again-
CLEAR!
"oh, well... looks like it's over."
"time of death?"

if you want to be alone,
it's fine, I won't talk to you
I didn't talk to you last weekend either
I hope you're happy
I'm giving you a break
I'm not here for you,
I'm just alone tonight and
your sister offered to pick me up
and I want you to know I'm not trying
to be clingy
and I know you want a weekend alone
without me.
you didn't see me honestly all this week
and hopefully tonight you'll only get
a passing glance
but I won't isolate myself from my friends
just so you don't get ******* aggravated with me
. fine, I'll avoid you,
but my life won't go on shutdown for you.
It's not for you.
Nothing is for you.
Not anymore.

I've never felt quite so clean as when I woke up at dawn with bugs and sweat all over me after not showering for three days and I took a bath in a waterfall. I've never felt quite so clean as when the dust filled my eyes as I spun the loves of my life in circles. I've never felt quite so clean as when I kicked my shoes off and walked through the mud. I've never felt quite so clean as when I brushed my teeth in a room full of mold, body hair, and strange fluids. I've never felt quite so clean as when the smell of mildew seemed permanently embedded in my nostrils. I've never felt quite so clean as when I chose to sit in the ice cold and I wasn't sure I could do it but my friends, my friends, the truest friends I've ever had, knew my favorite song and they knew I needed help so they sang it I smiled and opened my eyes to a halo of light and darkness and love and isolation. I've never felt quite so clean as when my throat was raw from shouting and my skin was covered in charcoal and ash and the sweat dripped down my back as I was surrounded by pumping fists and bodies and spit from screams and I knew I was a leader then, I knew I belonged then. I've never felt quite so clean as when I stared up at the Milky Way, completely naked in the middle of the forest on a dirt road, walking next to a girl whose soul I dirtied and she looked at me and I knew I was forgiven and she sang to me a song that she shouldn't have. I've never felt quite so clean as when two of the dirtiest people that have ever existed, in two completely different ways, pulled together in the only light that shone through the cool new darkness of that night, while the whole of our worlds watched and we danced, we danced and they all laughed because they could see, and it wasn't what or who we were supposed to be, but in that moment it was the most clean that I have ever felt.

I want an endless time to be peaceful
and alone
or maybe with someone
working and thinking
or maybe just being
carefree and dancing
or lazy and sleeping
but what I really want
is for it to be my *choice

I've been looking at the stars for a long long time
I've been putting out fires all my life
everybody wants a flame, but they don't wanna get burned.

Passion fascinates me
Today, a Jehovah's Witness came to the door
and I couldn't help but smile and accept his pamphlet
because why the heaven not
yehovah or yeshua,
it is still my Lord
who ignites hearts and
guides the fire towards love
I see people looking like no one has ever loved them
like they are lost, confused, without a home,
adults who are supposed to be 'well adapted'
forcing children to accept gender roles and claiming them themselves
don't they know that God is a God of love?
using hate to make others love your way is illogical, wrong, and painful for everyone.
think of others,
and if, when you read that, you thought,
"yeah some people **** well should"
you're the one that needs to. I realized this weekend
that I will die
and my light will burn out
and I will never experience anything again
so by all **** means, I will be extreme
don't call me an extremist,
why the hell not? you have no time to be mediocre
no time to ignore the voice from the heavens
or the spirit burning within you,
no time to filter it or spray the special spray
be intense, extreme, anything and everything,
the most you can possibly be.
we used to look and wonder about our place in the stars,
and now we just look and worry about our place in the dirt,
what has happened to the human spirit?
we have forgotten we were destined for God.
we have forgotten what greater glory there was
and we have laughed at each other until the little girl
ready for her first recital,
cries before performing, because the audience knows not the kindness
they have never been taught,
the soldier stands desperate, and runs, because he has never been shown
why he should stay,
the gentlest of all get their hearts broken, because we have forgotten how to be
soft and strong,
so the hardest survive and the softest are broken and broken again and again until there is nothing left, because they have nothing to hang on to,
so find God again, let him show you how to be, do not be afraid,
he has the best plans for you,
and do not think he does not love you,
he loves you so much that he gave his life for you,
you, exactly who you are, ready to dance into the world,
he stands beside you, urging you on, he is all positive and upbuilding,
our God is a God of inspiration, not brokenness,
he will heal you and show you how to heal,
he will dance with you and mend your heart,
he will lift you to the highest pedestal if that is what is best,
or he will break you down if that is what will make you strong,
you have a choice,
for he will change you anyway,
but you may choose to accept him and know that it is because of love,
or reject, hate, and feel more broken than ever.
So, let the king of kings into your heart, because no one has ever
loved you, nor will ever love you,
as much as he does,
and he will take you into his arms and show you the world-
you are ready, you are exactly who you are supposed to be,
know that, and never forget it,
be extreme, be intense, that is what the Lord wants,
he is not looking for someone who sits quietly and accepts their lot,
he wants someone willing to change and leap and guide,
because we are not made for mediocrity,
we are made for greatness.

It is utterly preposterous
that so many beautiful people
can believe they aren't lovely
that they can wonder if
anyone has ever loved them
that they can look at themselves and see
hopeless, ugly, worthless
because I have loved enough beautiful people
who didn't know they are beautiful
to let you know that
chances are, if you don't realize your loveliness,
you are beyond heavenly- the only reason no one has told you
is because they were scared you wouldn't love them back.
I have loved enough beautiful people
to trace the trend and absorb the sheer irony of it
that all the astronomically lovely men and women
doubt that it even exists.
I breathe, dream, and have cried over you,
O chariot of the gods, you vessel of angels,
I have woken to your sight imprinted on my eyelids,
I have woven your every word into my poetry.
It is utterly preposterous
that so many beautiful people
don't see their own beauty
while I live for the sight of it.

You were the first thing I learned. When I see you
I am reminded that some things I will always know
that the sky spins around and when I doubt anything is true
there you are- standing and waiting alone.
I believe in love. Don't you? I have seen in the stars
that some things will stay forever and some truths
will remain past all our broken pieces and silly scars
that some things don't need proof for us to believe them.
I believe in love, in the giving tree that always bends
down her limbs for the boy, trusting him
with not only her heart, but her leaves and branches
until the last page, the very end. She gives all she can.
I know this. I know it's true. I believe in love. Don't you?

I want to pour hydrogen peroxide through my veins
so maybe then it will flush you out.

losing it

I can't wait to be far away

kissing someone is like all the buzzing and all the chatter
wars fought behind my eyes and choirs of angels
screams of demons, the screeching and aching of
a man as he falls, the grating of Earth's plates and
crumbling of mountains, breezes over grassfields
crackling lightning and shuddering thunder,
pounding heart and throbbing arteries, the echo
of a pulse beat through the hospital room,
nail-biting and foot-tapping and dilemmas and expression
art and logic and worth and failure and love and war
comes to silence. I feel nothing.
My heart, which did beat fast, is calmed and soothed
as soon as my lips touch anothers'.
The buzz of electricity in my veins finds its way
through the wire, and the circuit is complete.
There is peace. There is no more world
there is just two people, two people who
promised not to promise anymore
is this blindness? Is this deafness?
Is this completion and fulfillment?
Will it feel different next time, with someone else?
Is this how everyone else feels?
Is this how the person opposite me feels?
Is this how I feel? Is this alright? Am I okay?
I am okay. You're telling me I'm okay without speech.
Silence. This is it.

crying when you're by yourself, 'cause of what they think
about you

I mostly want to get ****** up
because I'm tired of thinking rather
than feeling. so please,
what would you do if you weren't in your right mind?

it is a true fact of a human person that, when
they must confess something that has been on their heart a long time,
they do not tell you it in the moment- it is planned, predetermined,
so they are not following their feeling or even watching your face
it is as it is in their fantasies- for they are not really there
they are reading from a script-
for they are as though they are dwelling in dreams
and you are not real. The words they say after mulling them over
are not there. They travel to their ancestral homeland and,
after the long flight, step off the plane and feel the harps
thrumming through their veins- there are no harps,
it is all in your imagination- your heart does not pound stronger
in the rolling hills and you need to behave as though you are actually there
you must be actually there. You are alive.

my heart still beats faster when you wear your hair down
and even when you wear your hair up
and even when you look like you'd rather not wear your hair at all
I still think you're one of the most lovely humans alive

"kisses are a better fate than wisdom"- front  of right shoulder
"we do not stand alone"- inside of foot
"timshel"- right heel
"agape"- left heel
"and the tree was happy"- under chest, on right side
"+)"- behind the heart on back
"fiat"- the back of my right shoulder
"ut prosim"- the back of my left shoulder
"I have wept for love of them"- under chest, on left side
"that"- one letter each on feet and hands
and a cross, on my left ring finger

We must use our individuality to
come full circle,
admit and realize we are not worth all we think we are-
and empty ourselves in agape, generosity, charity
using the syllable Om to connect with the supreme being sometimes known as
Allah
Christ
or Yahweh,
for this unity is Nirvana, perfection, heaven-
Christlike love is to forget the ego and the desires
and this love ends all suffering
for sin is the separation from the supreme being and the lack of love-
our individuality saved us and ****** us, for
we will never be one;
all the religions are in an attempt to unite what it is that we have determined
is not to be united-
western civilization falsely values the individual and the ego;
these are not important in and of themselves, but rather side effects of a body,
and tools used to destroy themselves.
It is not important that I am I except that it is the point through which
I realize that
It is not important that I am I-
The journey through life is a spiral circling in on itself,
never quite reaching a closed point,
because we're basing our choices on the wrong motivations
and we've forgotten where it is that home is.

I made a 'swimming in *****' joke in the locker room
and I laughed at how many people got offended,
"Whoa man, not funny," have you ever heard a drake song?
And for some reason, they all got upset about it
because '*****' is a taboo word
as if you don't see one all the time-
and while all of you say '****' every day,
I doubt you have any experience with THAT matter.

You tell us that to be too energetic is to be annoying
Or naive
and you get upset there's no positivity around you
and all that's 'okay' is negativity but to be
anything else is to be 'weird'
but where's the sunlight behind the rain?
All the boys are ******* with no personality, but
darling, if you're emotional or have any depth, you're
gay
And guys want a girl who can talk about sports
and won't *****
but those girls are
lesbians
and all anyone wants is to laugh
"Stop laughing, it's aggravating,"
And there's nothing I can do right,
I'll be hated if I do
and ****** if I don't.

Then maybe all this irony is because misery wants company,
And we're so busy making each other miserable
that we've become terribly poor company.

i would like to watch your heart beat
and your chest move up and down
as the breath that is partway mine
flows in and out of you