All I want is someone
Someone to hug
In a not so plutonic way.
I want to hold hands
With interlocking fingers
Swing arms like a pendulum
While we walk down the street.
I want to talk for hours
About everything and nothing.
I just want to talk to you
It doesn't matter
What words fill the empty space
As long as they're there.
As long as you're there.

Oh youthful innocence
Why did you leave me so fast.
I feel like adolescence
Was ****** upon me
Like a straight jacket
No room for mistakes.
Scoliosis from book bags
Full of homework
Sagging with responsibility.
Late nights spent with red eyes
And tissue boxes
Letting stress seep out through tears
But only when no one is watching
I am a pillar of strength.
I yearn for days of Lego towers
Barbie dolls and dress up.
Why can't I stay in neverland
Responsibilities perpetually
To far off in the distance
To concern me.
I want to not care so bad
But that is not an option.
So I press on and move forward.
I keep on growing up
And resenting it.

I am a woman.
I am a feminist.
I bleed out of my ****** on a semi-monthly basis
Unless of course there is a fetus
hiding in my ******.
This is a proven fact.
See i'm not particularly fond of the fact
that women were treated
as property.
That virginity is valued over education.
That I need to have a ***** to deserve equal pay.
That I can't show skin because it's 'distracting'
when ******* are sagging their pants to their knees.
That children blindly sing the lyrics to Blurred Lines
without thinking about what it means.
I believe that women are beautiful without photoshop
and failure to recognize the word stop should mean
Go Directly To Jail and do not pass go.
I am a woman
I am a feminist
and that doesn't mean that I can't play football
or kick your *** at Halo.
If I sleep around I'm not a ****.
There is no guide to "how to make her ****"
I am a woman
I am a feminist.
I do not believe in gender roles
I believe in dinner rolls
and counting carbs is cramping my style.
I am worth more than my ******.
Beauty is not a dress size.
Lesbian is more than fetish ****.
A single mother is a warrior not a *****.
I am a woman
I am a feminist
Do not dismiss my protest for angry rants.
The baggage between my legs shouldn't drag me down
I am a woman
I am a feminist
What happened to equality?
Does it not apply to me
Because
I am a woman?

It's funny isn't it
Life.
It's funny isn't it,
when your friends talk behind your back
when they laugh at inside jokes
you aren't privy to.
Hilarious.
It's funny isn't it
when people are nice to you.
Especially when it's obvious
that it's not genuine.
Pity friendship
what a crackup.
It's even funnier
when people detest you
bully you
beat you down
tear you up
rip into you
with fists or words.
Lol
It's funny isn't it
when you can see disappointment
in the eyes of those you love the most.
When you need
acceptance and forgiveness
but aren't desperate enough
to beg.
it's funny.
So **** funny.
the paranoia that begins to set in
how every word
behind backs that are turned
becomes a rumor.
That feeling is just so funny.
It's funny isn't it
how you can see every flaw
in yourself under their guidance.
That self loathing
self hatred.
That awe inspiring disappointment.
Not good enough
Never good enough.
Not for me you anyone
Isn't is just so funny
to think about all the ways to die
all the ways that you could
should
want to.
Isn't it funny
to see faint trails grow
more and more red
when you draw a blade to your skin.
Isn't it funny
how you can't explain why
the pain and the scars
make it feel better
somehow.
Isn't it so funny
how miserable you've become
by someone elses hand.
Isn't it funny
how they tell you that
if you ignore it
it will all go away.
Isn't it funny
how ignorance isn't bliss
it is hell.
Isn't it funny
how it messes with your mind.
Isn't it funny
how they can get to you.
Isn't it funny
how everyone just stands by
and watches it happen.
It isn't funny
but they're laughing anyway
so you laugh along
and pretend that it doesn't hurt.

I lay my head down on a pillow
soft sheets, covered in little baubles from
all of the washings they have endured.  
My eyes drift closed
slowly.
When you are tired, your eyes burn
dreams fill them up to the brim like tears
an eight hour play awaiting an audience.
The remnants of fairy lights and starry skies
leave an imprint on my eyelids
fading into darkness.
Flashing images, projected in my mind.
No new faces, the brain isn't that powerful
everything is seen, very little is remembered
outside of
dreams.
When i wake up, i am very rarely blessed
with memories of my slumber.
Deleted synapses
never recovered
lost to sleep
and dreaming.

I feel like a sinking ship
RMS Titanic
the unsinkable boat
never completing it's maiden voyage
my maiden voyage.
It lays with it's belly swollen from age
at the bottom of the mid atlantic.
I lay in my bed
big blue headphones seal me off
from the scary world outside
my belly is swollen from comfort eating.
My journey is much less majestic
I never sank down in the ocean
thousands of lives were lost
to the icy see
but there is only one casualty in my shipwreck.
I try not to think
too hard about my life
my future
I read to escape from my own mind
I seek out distractions
from my responsibilities.
At night
the monsters under my bed are
failure
disappointment
tests
grades
lines to learn
social circles
scheduling
college.
A good man once said
the only certain things in life are death and taxes.
he could not have been more right
and frankly that scares the **** out of me
I'm a planner
I want my future to be set in stone
and if I weren't an atheist
I would pray for time to be static.
I am scared to death of what lies ahead
there is a fog bank over my future
that no crystal ball can decipher
my life is one big cypher
i can't crack the code.
I try not to expect people to understand me
because I can't even understand myself.
my mother tells me to walk
with my head up
my shoulders back
open my chest
stand tall.
When I look down I see the present
If I look out all I see is my future.
I'd rather hit a literal wall than a figurative one.
I am a sinking ship
but I sink slowly
and the RMS Titanic had survivors.

When i was younger
I loved to color.
At my grandparent's house
there was a shoebox
full of crayons.
I am older now.
So are my grandparents.
I got the crayons from the closet
because I still love to color.
With a satisfied smile
my grandfather turned to me
and said "you remembered where the crayons were"