Out of my window looking through the night,
I can see the barges' flickering light
starboards shining green and ports shining red
I can see the barges straight ahead.

Barges, how I'd like to go with you
how I'd like to sail the ocean blue.
Barges, have you treasures in your hold?
Do you fight with pirates brave and bold?

Out of my window, looking through the night
I can see the barges' flickering light.
Silently flows the river to the sea
and the barges too go silently.

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 was a burning, living heaven, or hell, as we called it-
but I've never missed it more.

things we lost in the fire:
the way to fill the silence
those moments in the dark
the acceptance of our flaws
real poetry
the ability to get up off our feet and stop making tired excuses
every single one of our laughter lines
what it means to be free
how to run into the night with all you had
guided only by your beating heart.

maybe the reason why I dislike Batman
and love the X-Men
is because Batman, gifted with money and power, chose his struggle
the X-Men were forced- they had mutanthood shoved upon them
and had to be crucifed as society pushed them away
hiding in fear and hatred of what they must face
the X-Men learn to adapt, they take what they have
and choose to be the better man, or the worse man,
but they take the fight that was given them
and the freakery that they were born with,
and they adapt.
Batman, however, was born normally,
did not have to run or hide, for he was privileged,
and he walked, walked straight into freakery
he took the burden others were throttled with
and laid it upon his own shoulders, crying 'woe is me'
whilst he went about the noble task of hero-dom
he made himself a fancy suit- he had been given
normalcy and he invented freakery in order to claim sacrifice
he did not need to give himself- he was an ordinary man
that laid down his life.
The reason why that bothers me so much
is that ordinary men do not need to lay down their lives
they are not called to that future
it is not in their cards
he claimed his heroic deeds and choose to throw himself into the
furnace flames- while others suffered unwillingly
he chose it
he took their pain and made it less
'see, I can do it! anyone can do it!'
what makes the X-Men special is that
their mutation isn't 'deal with pain of superheroism'
it's some other power, but they have to learn how to be ostracized
not anyone can do that- they had to
their survival depended on it
Batman walked into the struggle of their lives
and declared himself a hero
though, for some, the declaration
was not in their words or actions, it was written
into their DNA, it was marked in their skin
by the brands of their oppressors, it
was pounded into every heartbeat shocked with electricity
they fought and hid their heroism their whole lives
for they knew- it was not something to love,
it was something to suffer with-
and Batman took that, he took the heroism
and he projected it across the night sky,
declaring, "I am Batman",
and it is something he can escape from,
he can walk away, he can walk away, he can walk away,
and yes, he chooses not to,
but what he does is steal from those who cannot walk away
his heroism takes the nails in the hands of mutants and orphans
and masochistically drives them into his own palms
crying whilst doing it.
rather than being forced to adapt and look normal,
he puts on a suit and prances through the night dramatically
he takes everything sufferable about being a hero
and tosses it out the window-
he takes everything noble about being a hero
and growls it in a dramatic voice, posing, in his fancy suit,
when he could be safe at home. why would you choose this
why would anyone choose this
be thankful for your ability to be safe,
that is the real superpower- the ability
to be normal, to have a home to go back to, to
have a normal purpose and a normal life,
and Batman is completely, utterly, ungrateful-
he wishes there were more,
while those born with 'gifts' would be satisfied with even less.

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.

there is a stunning unity in being human
but a terrible loneliness as well.

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

the stage crackles and throbs with sweat and spit
as his energy pulses through the crowds- our veins
are end-to-end with our hands pumping, holding
him up. He knows who we are and what we deserve.
We, the people, he fights for us- in every sense of the word
he stands for every single person in this country
and every single person in the world.

why do I feel like an object
everyone is staring at
who only interacts, never listens
to the voices of her critics
while they speak and analogize and draw conclusions
all I do is give more data, I am not in the circle of review
I am the experiment thereof, and for that I am bitter.

dying to see how this one ends

shoot me up with lightning and sunshine,
tell me when it kicks in

what an optical illusion, the human soul
percieving emotions and situations
like a retina- but why is it different for each?

I found out a long time ago what a woman can do to your soul

watching this movie I think made me realize
that not only will it get better
it will also get worse- one day it won't just be unrequited love
one day someone and I will have lived together,
breathed together, and something will tear us apart so
we can no longer coexist- someday I will cry myself to sleep
and during the day will feel nothing but brokenness
someday I will have places to go that remind me of them
and smells that make my chest heave
someday my hands will be warm from holding theirs
someday I will wake up next to someone I love
and the next day I won't.

Why do girls lie to themselves and tell themselves,
I'm a six
when they're really an eight?
Why do we inaccurately portray ourselves
and seek to obtain these impossible standards
and gaze at our thighs for hours wondering
why did I ever let this happen to me
or noone will ever love me if I look like this
we'll hunch over our stomach rolls and wish
we could slice them off with a blade and they'd heal back flat, all the fat gone;
we'll wonder how anyone could find us pretty
and we'll doubt if they do
because the only boys who have ever been nice to us
are either playing a cruel joke
or are our fathers.
But here's some news: who you are is not defined by your poundage or the amount of lipids stored under your chin,
when you sit down, how far your thighs push out;
or even that terrible bit of fat under your arms
when you wave bye to your gorgeously thin friends.
Who you are is not merely 'pretty'
or 'skinny'
and I desperately don't want you judging yourself
on what some boy's favorite part of your body is
or what passerby think of your ***-
your body is more than skin deep,
your body is more than fat,
you have muscles and organs and things too,
there are more important things, like how
strong your heart is or how many gasps your lungs have had-
those things make you a valuable, important human being
because fat- well- that's not what makes you who you are.
And that's not what I love you for, because darling,
my favorite part of your body is your mind.

my legs are unshaven
somewhere between rabbit and goat
my thighs are muscled
more so now than ever
my face is freckled proportionally
with just the right amount of jawline
my feet are bony, like my hands,
long and strong
my torso melts into my legs and shoulders
my whole body is masculine
everything I am is built and molded
my heart is a knight, sun, yang
I dream of rocketing my person over obstacles
like someone who is not bound by estrogen
and having my abs ripple as I tear my
shirt off
grabbing it from the top of the back rather than
the awkward twisting thing
I am a man masquerading in a woman's body
admittedly, a tall, masculine-looking woman
but it still feels like it doesn't fit
like a temporary home
that was painted without you knowing
and everything shifted over to the left
three inches
and you know something is not right,
and I'm looking around, asking,
where are my wings?
where is my golden curly hair?
where is the fire in my eyes?
where is the easy athletic ability?
where is my old body?
why am I here?

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.

baby you're like lightning in a bottle
through all my lives I never thought I'd wait so long for you

like when I close my eyes and don't even care
if anyone sees me dancing
like I can fly, and I don't even think of touching the ground
like a heartbeat skip, like an open page
like a one way trip on an aeroplane.

the true bravery comes in knowing you are limited and breaking
your own limits anyway.

Bravery is being the only one who knows you're afraid
it's also being the only one who knows you're lonely, sad, or broken
bravery is walking alone and smiling because the people
in the cars driving by need to have their days brightened
bravery is leaving home and saying you had a good day,
when you're crashing down inside and you might as well
have built a sandcastle in a hurricane for yourself to stand on, bravery
is still being a rock, because others need a place to stay as well.

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?

I've never felt more alive than in this spring rain
in the midst of drops crashing through the air
they pick up dust, and in the galaxies and alley-corners
between them, the sky forgets about us
it has bigger things to worry about-
and so we breathe.

she may contain the urge to run away
but hold her down with soggy clothes and breezeblocks
cetirizine your fever's gripped me again
never kisses—all you ever send are full stops

do you know where the wild things go?

“We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.”

I wish there were more than 24 hours in a day
so I could do all the things that need to be done
and all the things I want to do
and homework
and studying
and musical instruments
and sports
and eating
and a social life
and clubs
and reading
and sleep

but you can't have everything, can you?

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.

You can't be what I live for.
I won't waste breath on you,
not anymore,
I'm done spending my happiness
where it won't be received-
I'm tired of living in torture
our relationship isn't what I wanted;
what I wanted isn't what you wanted-
I've been idolizing the thought of a door opening
when you're just a brick wall-
to open you'd have to be something you're not
so I'm giving up on you,
for me,
but also for you.

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.

you're beautiful
you're beautiful, it's true
and every time I look at you
you're just so **** untouchable
and it's okay
but it's not okay I think
for me, at least,
but really, I'm happy just being your friend
because that's all you want
it's healthier for us if we stay how we are
and I've come to peace with it
that I'll never touch your lips
or the delicate way your shoulders
***** down into your back
you're beautiful, it's true
but I'll never be with you.

I am ready for my heart to be washed clean
I am done being wounded by myself and those around me
it's time to put it in the hands of those who will hold it tenderly
not my parents- they cut me and make sarcastic and mean remarks
not my friends- they value themselves over me
not strangers- they don't smile
It's time
it's time for everything I am to be
carefully bandaged and swaddled
and ****** until it is new
it is time for my heart to stop bleeding and scarring
it's time to go to camp.

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.

Do you ever say things that make you cry?
Do you listen to music that changes your life?
Do you dive deep into the depths of thought?
For a second, have you had remorse?
Have you ever decided you were wrong?
Have you changed your mind?
Are you that scared of yourself that you have blanked your own mind,
numbed your own heart for fear of what it would tell you?
Have you ever sat alone and thought about your future?
Have you ever looked at someone and told them the truth?
Have you ever walked by yourself and felt horribly lonely?
Why don't you tell someone?
Have you ever sat on a roof and watched the stars, not just for the aesthetic?
Have you ever felt in your core who you really are?
Have you ever screamed for joy?
Have you ever cried for hardly any reason?
Do you have songs that make you feel small?
Who would you live for?
Who would you die for?
Have you ever thought about that?

what's the use of letting anything hold you back anymore
when the God of angel armies and the lowest of the low stands next to you
what's the use of shutting up and letting people and trivial ideas rule you
when the radical God of love wants to be your best friend
what's the use of letting any moment go to waste, any blessing unused
when the God of joy and sorrow is here to bear your burden
and feel it all with you? What's the use of letting your life
fly by, unnoticed, when we are called to latch ourselves in,
buckle up, and get ready for the ride of all eternity?

it's okay for things to change, to grow up
fate will twist the both of you,
all of you.

strange that anyone's greatest fear could be change
when change is my greatest passion-
that sweet seduction, the thrill of challenge
and a bite of cold on the rim of the foreign champagne
is only from the lipstick of this temptress, change
who beckons me across ages- dances with me while I chase-
I never quite know her,
I never quite can- she is already halfway through space
already half erased.

I used to say "Here I am, Lord",
and now, I say "where am I, Lord?"

the fault line between us shifts
setting us on edge as we grind against each other
wearing us down, breaking pieces and chunks
we tear each other apart, the world is made of just us,
floating alone, none without the other
we lean, quaver, and break, rolling tides spin around,
the sun is scorching each of us the same
and we quake.

I burn too bright for my own good
fuel my own fire
scar my own skin
my body ignites and blazes away
the outer shell
I am more than what I have been
I have walked through hell.
I am the might; and I burn thin
through what's good for me
and I am charred, at the end of the day
but even charcoal ignites again.

the way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine.

The reason I don't want her here
is because I am large, and ungainly,
and playing in the snow is for small people.
The reason I don't want her here
is because I'd rather have you
in my arms.
The reason I don't want her here
is that her zest and spark for life is different
from mine and I can no longer keep up.
The reason I don't want her here
is because she reminds me of the person I used to
be- the person I can't get back.

children
are a flame that is already kindled
and you must be careful not to extinguish it
for they will hold the water you poured all over their souls
deep inside them
forever.
children
are carpenters
engineers
painters
and when you build for them
build them a platform for them to explore from
not a box for them to fill.
children
are galaxies,
spinning, beautiful, incredibly deep
they are flowers, with tender pistils
and incredibly fertile stamen
they are grass that will not strangle eah other
until you stomp on them
they are clouds that move frailly,
bound by the wind and bearing but one load of rain
they are wells: the deeper you dig, the more you find,
the farther the bottom goes,
they are dancers: turn off the music for just a second, and the mood is ruined
they are all these things
but above all,
they are children,
and they should be guarded
and held as tenderly
as our own hearts-
even more so, for I am careless with my heart-
I will guard the children like I guard my mind,
lay down my life and pick up my armor
anything, everything,
for these, the most beautiful and perfect of us all.

you have to choose to act with love, every single day
but you can't choose to feel it.

It will be hard
because I know that I must choose God,
over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over again.

and that you have loved me, beyond belief
beyond hopes and dreams
beyond imagination
that you have died for me,
and still I turn away-
is terrifying,
and amazing.

separation of church and state
means the state cannot interfere with individuals' right
to practice their religion
and public institutions cannot forbid certain religions and allow others
it does NOT mean the church is not allowed in public
it does NOT mean the schools can forbid students from praying
it means the school and the government have no rights
to stop these actions
and have no control
over the actions of individuals
regarding religion,
not that individuals have no rights regarding religion
for the sake of other individuals being 'oppressed' by your free expression.
if you don't work for the government,
you have the right to practice. don't forget it.

how would I film us together?
without making it sappy, ridiculous
because you hate that,
I would make it honest.
I would film
you alone
me alone
a shot of you falling off the bars at track
and me almost catching you
then a shot of us laughing in the car
a shot of me taking your ball
a shot of slapping your ****
a shot of laughing again
a shot of us cuddling together and falling asleep on the couch
a shot of you mumbling into your pillow about our hearts
a shot of you showing me the song
a shot of me learning to play it for you
a shot of it going all wrong
a shot of us dancing together
a shot of me glancing towards you
a shot of us dancing with other people
a shot of your face forlorn
a shot of me breaking my expression
a shot of me dancing alone
a shot of you alone
a shot of me playing the song
someone trying to sing along
and me putting up the ukelele.

I sit and I observe the
gazelle leaping wildly
dancing, their beautiful eyes
skating the floor in front of them
the sky is a mirror for the
elephants
who don't know their own size
and have thick skin to ward off
what? what could stand up to a
lion
who epitomizes what you want to be
and growls, at his cubs
while his beautiful wife lays by him
purring, only to be replaced by a
hyena
whose only means is to survive is to
take and to destroy
because the lack of an opponent is easier
than the presence of a
vulture
who feeds off the kills of the hyena
and tags along in a great mob to take down the
greatest of all: the
mouse
who scuttles and runs along the hooves,
offering quiet encouragements to
the elegant-fast-high gazelle,
who points and shows the mirror of the sky
to the rest of us.

you are free up to the moment you die
and because of that,
death is the only thing that can destroy your freedom
you may move your arms and your legs and
no one can make you do
anything while you are alive, the only time this ceases
is when your brain lacks the autonomy because it no longer fires
there is no such thing as destruction of autonomy,
that is a delusion- autonomy is always present
because death cannot exist at the same time you do
once it is gone, you are there
when it is there, you are gone,
your movement and your life is your free will
while you have life, you are never restricted
unless you restrict yourself-
death, and dying, and killing
is the only time anyone else can truthfully, honestly
take what is yours.