Everyone is a musician
I found god. This is god
Good Friday made better by sprawling empty city
And pure deafening sound
Being thrown to the ground
And treaded on
And picked back up again
By tender and caring hands.
Bruises remain and muscles ache for days
Ears ring.
The flash of light and pure raw sensation plagues my dreams
I fell in love so many times that night
In love with all the nameless faceless bodies
The bass so tangible it withdrew something from me
My breath?
And cold winter air breathed back into me
Crowds of tender lovers
Carry me to safety.
What is the opposite of sleep?
I found god
And the peace within chaos
Virginity restored by sin
It is a sin to feel so much at once
To feel full
It is a sin that I will never repent
It is a temptation that would bend the iron will of god
I did not doubt in that moment.
I did not doubt anything
Not even the rain.

*******

To watch your chest heave
Up and down and up
And down
Faster as my mouth moves
Silent words and speech
Whispers of
I love
You?
But oh so silent be the lamb that follows
When the leader is waiting on the flock

To watch your chest heave
And heat
Discarded threads of yarn
Typically mistaken for fabric
Fictional
Reality.
Lips and teeth
And bruises.

To watch your chest heave
Red eyes
We're both high
And I'm crying
Fingertips touch
And you reach inside me and pirate my heart
I am but a carbon copy
The flesh you removed from me
Removed me from.

To watch your chest heave
Hurts me.

“Dear Kitty-cat, black and pretty, tell us what to do in order to get away from thy mistress, the witch?”

Pity on the poor soul
Do your work with seeds of sympathy falling from your eyes
Stitch up the wounds of dead flesh
Beat on broken drums and sing in time with the willow branch
When the screams of the innocent drown out the howl of the wolf sing too

The birch tree lisped with its leaves, “Thou hast never put a simple thread over my branches and the little darlings adorned them with a pretty ribbon.”

Don't want Beatrice
We want a benediction
One final song to bring an end to this friction.
The volcano days with the finality of Pompeii
Return flesh that once was beige
Into a sullen shade of grey.
We were all born to die
So return to the ground and sing
We are all kings we are all kings we are all kings

Idolisce
Art is dead.
Corporate Christmas. Merry capitalism.
The word of the wolf is our gospel
Misleading the flock towards exodus
A charming smile on a mouth full of teeth
Picking every last bone clean

Idolisce
Art is dead
Uniformity and the beat the heat of war
Culture of violence breeds fighters
Not writers
Great minds forbidden to create
A masochistic parade

Idolisce
Art is dead
Shout loud until your heard
And then speak louder
Tear down the walls between us and them
The ******* need to hear us
Taste the fire of our words
And the pain we don't deserve but we feel anyway


One people one voice one song
Sing along
With raised fists and open palms
Burn the pages of capitalist psalms
Sing along Until the pigs are gone

Heat
Electricity and emotions
Unconscious and subconscious
Predominant and primarily dominant
Dilated
Hands like claws with fists full of skin and sheet and shirt
Unable to discern
Just feel
Waves
Rocking into the shore with passion and power
No mind to silent sediment
Relentless currents pulling everything
Waves tumble head over heels but never stop
Lightning strikes
But then fades away again
Fleeting
Never constant but dangerous and beautiful
No names, just feelings, no emotions, just feelings and flesh
Red snow
Reflection? Or animosity
Animalistic atrocity
Boom
Like lightning but prettier
Stay after to admire
Sink in and do it again every year
Write about it think about it
Sing
Raise hearts to god in sinful praise
With handfuls of lover's grace
Remind me of the days when I didn't regret the moves I make
Fill me up so I can forget
For a while
Cosmic
Electrick
Charged with emotion
Direction unknown so let it go
Give it to someone else
The faceless nameless midnight confidants
Express yourself

A culture of addiction and ignorance
Pushing poppies instead of daisies
The only light snakes around the corners
Of carefully drawn blinds.
Red eyes.
Tongue tied and silent
A supernova behind the eyes of an innocent
The memories of masochism and open hands
Fingers pressed together
Cruel intentions caked in the creases of palms.
They haunt the night time
Is it night time?
Mildew.
The smell of apathy with a hint of persistence
Which sets in once the blackness starts to seem periwinkle
And geography is etched into ****** finger tips
And skinned knees.
Every penny flowing free
Into the crook of your elbow.
Anything to silence. Anything to feel.
Hope and healing are out of reach
But the apples still shine in your eyes when you dream
And then everything seems a little closer.

Rush and heat
Energy crackles in the air like radio static
Radio silence
People stood in rows staring in awe
Lights
Glitter rain, like the movies
Like kissing in the rain
Running in the rain
The hookup the breakup the makeup
The ***
The sparks are tangible tasteable tangy tangerine terrific terrifying
Electrick
Energy
Thrilling
Being high without being intoxicated
I'm intoxicated by you
High on you
High on being with you around you inside you
Feeling you as close as you can be to me
I can feel the fireworks welling up inside me
The sparks on your tongue ignite me
Off I go
As high as a cloud
Into infinity leaving trails of cosmic dust behind me
Shining like a star running away
The smoke that lingers afterwards is part of me too
The exhale after the arch backed clutching
Release like fire
With fire comes smoke
Passion
Sparks linger in your eyes
In my eyes in our eyes
I want to keep them to myself
I keep my eyes shut to lock in the feelings
Commit them to memory
Burn the synapses like fire trails to gunpowder
BANG
I explode but you hold me together
My guts rattle
Like Fourth of July Fifth of November
I want to feel like this
Feel you like this
The sonic vibration in every quantum of me
You make me full like a universe full of stars
Glittering in the palms of children in the summer
Looking up at the sky
Seeing explosions
Some beautiful things can't be explained
But we still try
Try so hard to be independent
All I need is people
All I want to need is myself
Sleep like a starfish or a fetus
I wasn't ready for the boom
I never am
But it comes
It ****.

Goose.
Goose goose geese.
Geese Geese
goose geese,
duck geese goose
geese duck geese goose geese.
Duck goose geese
Swan duck goose.
geese goose duck swan
swan duck goose geese goose.
swan duck geese Ryan Gosling
goose duck swan.
Swan duck goose.
Swan.
Goose duck geese goose.
Goose swan geese duck.
Swan swan goose
duck geese goose.
Duck duck goose geese swan.
duck swan.
duck.
swan.
swan.

It's ironic that everything is so alive
just before everything dies.
the red orange golden leaves stutter in the breeze
as if waving goodbye.
The sun glances down some mornings,
but it's fleeting
for then the rain comes.
it is a time of bon fires
and pumpkin spiced everything.
when comforters crawl out of closets
draped over saggy shoulders.
When children bury themselves under the leaves
like animals
and spring from the earth
like bears.
Autumn is upon us for but a moment
a fleeting glimmer of sunlight
before we tuck into winter.

I wonder if you
Think about me because
I think about you
So much.

Take a moment
and look at your hands.
look at the lines
more creases and folds than a dismantled paper airplane
you can look into hands and see the future
those creases read like a map
and in the distance between your fingers lies a novel.
With fingers intertwined you can pray
and you can love.
you can beckon melodies from the belly of pianos
and scrawl poetry on shredded napkins
you can punch and scratch and fight
you can revolt
you can deliver Shakespeare
you can place blame
and you can nurture
you can wave hello
and you can wave goodbye
but remember they are the same motion
wiggle your fingers
count them
10
a perfect round number
take a look at the miraculous work of art at the end of your wrists
put them to use
embrace
high five
fist bump
use them to make art
dance
music
fight injustice
celebrate your victories
and help those around you.
with those two hands and ten fingers
the world is yours.

take a moment and look at your hands
and notice how you don't need a mirror to see yourself.

There are more important things
Than the color of their eyes
And the missing puzzle piece that you feel in your heart
There is something brewing
Inside of us
The pent up rage
The bottled up frustration
Lent to us by the oppression
We face every day
So we ring it in with bells and bullhorns
And pray for the day when love is legal
And free speech is free
And middle schools are free from misoginy
And the police protect my rights based on laws and not skin tone
The balance has been thrown
The dynamics swaying in the breeze
It's well past time for a 180 degree turn
We'll let society burn
And ring in a new age
With bullhorns and bells
And we'll fight for our ******* freedom.

Streets filled with bodies
Dead or alive
Nobody knows
Blood runs through the streets
Like floodwater
Innocent blood
Flows like runoff
Through concrete veins
But only because we let it happen
Because of judgement
Because of ignorance
Because of prejudice
Prejudice that we carry over
From our predecessors
The violence and hatred of our ancestors
Continues on through us
But only because we let it happen
Because our naïveté lets us see the world
As monochrome
Everyone belongs in one solid genome
Straight white cis
So they lock us up in a cage of exile
Invalidate the opinions that don't sit well
On a stomach full of lies
So we stand in solid lines
Hands locked together
Silently screaming
NO!
With the ******* hidden in their claims
It hurts but the pain isn't enough to break our chains
At least until the weakest link caves
And the flood gates open up
Our nerves sting with rubber bullets and tear gas
Police brutality and 'controversial' crowd control tactics
Resulting in the blood of innocents.

The truth comes out
Oppression
Recession
We deliver new life
Spoon feeding democracy
Cookie cutter
Build your own government kits
Follow the instructions with a gun held to your head
Puppet government
Corporations pulling strings
Calling the shots with a mouthful of greed
Blaming tragedy on street rats with golden teeth
Hiding behind business suits and briefcases
Pay no attention to the man behind the curtains
Take part in the rat race
Get distracted by the fast pace
Pay attention to your own **** problems
And forget to see the big picture.

Another ride on the metro
Catcalls and wolf whistles
To the wrist to the neck to the ankle
I'm breaking the dress code
The double standards are air tight and unbreakable
I'm stuck in the choke hold of the patriarchy
Kicking and screaming
Perverts jacking off to the sight of me
Objectified, and only fourteen
Take precautions stay safe
Because we have reason to be afraid of the dark
When we have to assume that everyone is a ******
The world is out to get us
Plaguing the younger generation with pop music and photoshop
Shellshocked by the devastation of self confidence
Short hair means you're a ****
Long hair means you're property
The American dream is four walls a roof and a wife to call your own
To own
****** assault is normality
I'm appalled at the way my peers think I owe them something
My virginity
My body
I'm not a carcass to be picked clean by vultures:
The beasts who sit next to me
Who view me as a threat because I'm intelligent
A ***** because I'm intolerant to their ignorance and oppression
The gender roles and discrimination
Objectification
A one woman war
That every woman faces.

Hopelessness stands at the alter
Spouting discrimination
Dug from the depths of the bible
New age bigotry
Picket signs versus pride parades
Spot the queer in the crowd
Wipe them out
We are not a virus of humanity
Your hateful words aren't the only thing that cuts me
When coming out equates to ear splitting arguments
"Get out of my house"
"you are not my son"
LGBT blood on the streets
****** of trans teens
Pop culture is enemy to androgyny
*** education skips over me
And change is met with board meetings
Conservative parents complaining
Claiming they know better than the mouths they feed
Age is not a crown of wisdom
The 21st century witch hunt
Discrimination spills from the mouths
Of little Hitlers
Screaming "God hates ****" before they know what the words mean
Wrap my coffin in a rainbow flag
When they find my mangled body on the street
The product of a hate crime
The product of the war I'm fighting
Brittle bones riddled with stab wounds
Every one carries weight with the words they were paired with
Queer
***
******
I don't have invisible amour
The words pierce me in a way that can't be seen
My blood leaks silently and joins the masses.


We are a generation so full of hatred
Promised so much that wasn't delivered
And so we raise our hands and salute the mother ******* rebellion
Our sweet saving grace
America isn't free and neither are we
We are slaves to misogyny and bigotry
Police brutality
Crafty government puppetry
Patriarchy
The enemies that we face aren't the ones we see
Well **** society
We can create our own
Carry in the revolution on our shoulders
On our knees
Plastered across our twitter feeds
We fight with words
With fists
Whatever it takes
Speak out across our dashboards timelines and comments
Word of mouth
Engrave them into your skin
What was started needs to be finished
We have a price to pay



It's time for a revolution *****.

Sometimes i wish i was a silkworm
so that i could weave something beautiful
out of nothingness
and wrap myself up when i feel lonely
or scared.
Sometimes i want
oh so badly
to feel a lover's hand in my hair
just give me a sign
two tugs so i know you're there
i just want to make sure.
I am like a silkworm
because the thread i hang from
is so fine and fragile
but when woven together with more
we are strong.
I'm so scared that without you
I'll snap
I'll fall.
Hell, maybe i'll even cut myself down
and just walk away
unscathed.
unscathed?
i think not.
life is far too ******* us
to leave anyone unscathed.
from the moment we emerge into this world
the weight starts to set in
that's why babies cry so **** much
that's why i used to care so much
but what's the use.
once everything's gone to ****
you might as well enjoy
dangling
and watching the chaos ensue.
we are all ruined
we are all so broken
and ******
and that what makes it nice.
we are all ruined together
we've woven a fine tapestry of disaster
we spin destruction.
the destruction of innocence
the destruction of silence
the destruction of perfectly good bonfires
but that's what makes it nice.
We weave a web of bad choices
we like to pretend that we are spiders
we like to pretend that they're afraid of us.
but they still hold on to the illusion of calm
they think they can control us
conform us
or destroy us
and we play along because it's easiest that way
they can see us
and they are seeing a lie
because we are too cowardly to show them the inside
to spill our guts in the name of honesty
and confess our sins
to cut our silkworm threads
and trade our saturday nights
for shackles
because we are tangled up
in a spider web of lies
but it's nice
and i like feeling invisible sometimes
it helps ease your worries
if no one can place the blame
because it's not easy to find
someone so perfectly wrapped up
in a silkworm thread cocoon:
the only thing that holds me together.
i'm happy to be falling apart
i'm so happy to be dangling.
But sometimes i need you to give me a sign
two tugs on my silkworm thread
to let me know you're here
and i'll cut myself down
so beautifully ruined.

I sit at a piano
and at the right hand side of the orchestra
or maybe the left
I'm not sure
You sit there too
you sit on your high horse
Mr. 2nd chair
oh i beckon in the good days when
When you play your violin
Like a Stradivarius
And fill the practice room
Like a concert hall.
And i sit and listen
like a desperate girl
mourning the moaning
of cellos
and the loss of a good friend
maybe more.
I still sit on the right side
of the orchestra
with a hollow piece of wood
raised to my neck
where i want you to kiss me
and i drag bow across string
and make noise
and make music.
i refuse to believe
that this was a coincidence
but we are musicians
it's an occupational hazard.
maybe...

"I wonder if a
watermelon would explode
in the camp fire?"

The watermelon
was placed in the fire. There
was no explosion

just some very warm
watermelon. No one died
Surprisingly.

I love the smell of the strawberry hand soap
in my tile bathroom ringed orange
with iron stains
in the cheap sink
and shallow bathtub.
I love the way he smelled when he stood too close
in the dark
backstage.
I love the way the air smells
after heavy rain
and storms with lightning.
I love the way clean sheets smell.
I love the way lavender smells
I love the way bread baking smells.

I write so many love poems
sad poems
poems about him
the unnamed him
who's figure i crave like hard drugs.
The him who is leaving.
That ******* HIM.

This is not a poem about him
My life is not about him
I am resilient
independant
I don't need
him.

Maybe in a year...
he will come back to an unbroken me
who's feelings never took a hit.

But i don't need him
and i will survive.

I feel like i should feel sad
but instead i feel nothing.
I feel like everyone around me is leaving
so i should feel sad
but instead i feel nothing.
I feel nothing
i feel like i should feel pain
but i feel nothing.
I feel empty
and that feels like ****
so i keep busy so i can feel full.
I feel unfulfilled so i fill myself
with excess calories
and then i feel fat.
I feel so many things
but nothing ever feels strong enough.
I feel like i need to escape
I feel like i don't have enough feelings
and sometimes i feel like i have too many to comprehend
i can't stand the way I feel
the way i don't feel.

I have no ******* clue
what i want.
I have no ******* clue
where i'm going.
But I'm young so that's okay

I have no ******* clue
where my heart lies
I have no ******* clue
how i feel
But i'm young so that's okay

I have no ******* clue
who I am now
I have no ******* clue
who i want to be
But that's okay because i'm young.

Hope is a broken music stand
And the green three ring binder
That's contents now lay on the ground.
Hope is his beautiful musician's hands
That helped my scoop up
Leigions of sheet music
From the carpeted floor.
Hope is those beautiful brown eyes
That beheld me
While we tried to repair
The mess of papers.
Hope is my bravery
For sitting next to
Him:
The one person who helped me
When my broken music stand
Released it's contents.
Hope is...

(?)

I am in limbo.
I have this feeling in my bones
that my time will soon end
impending doom
that this happiness is not infinite.
But i relish right now
in the feeling that i am still hearer
he is still here
and the moments are precious while they last
and they become relics when they are over
which is why I need to remember
more than ever
the way it felt
the words that escaped this mouth.
the way the lake glistened
the sound of birds
and sweltering heat
sitting on a picnic table on a small island.
How finite it seemed at the time.
rejection
but with the usual overthinking
i found
hope
in that sense of
"it's not you it's me"
that he proposed.
He finally noticed his shadow
and told her the truth
that she already knew.
that I already knew≥
He is too selfish
too independent.
yet still she feeds the fire
of his ego
and holds on to the hope
that the credits won't transfer
when he comes back
he will be stuck in the web
with she
with
her
with I
withme.
and this is my salvation
this is my hope.
because no matter how dangerous and painful love may be
you can only run for so long.

He kissed her tenderly.
The sweet taste of her lips
And the catch of her breath
Enthraled  him.
When he pulled himself back to admire her beauty
He was met with a sorrowful glance
And whispered
Goodbyes.

Hope comes in the form
of a blue minivan
And the anticipation
Of who may be inside.

There is no turning back
not now.
No
This time
sir
you've fallen too hard too fast
the diagnosis
Love
and there is no cure
it's like a virus, it
Spreads
through your cells
and consumes you
engulfs you.
It moves
Through
you and effects you in strange ways
it turns atheists
into bible beaters
on their knees
prepared to pray.
That is what you've become now
sir
Prey.
Love has preyed on you
preyed on your mind.
Mind you,
your mind is not your own now sir
because i've infected you
you're mine.
i've caught you in my honey trap.
I've stuck you in my love
and now there's no turning back
sir.
because you're down too deep
sir.
is it you or is it me?
There's no turning back now
I'm stuck in your honey trap
and there's no turning back
You've tagged me now
there's no catch and release
no tag backs
I've caught the
Love
and there's no return policy
on my heart.
There's no turning back
This feels disorganized and wrong
like modern art
to be trapped like this
pulled by my heart strings
like a leash
sir.
I'm sincerely yours
sir
a puppet for your enjoyment.
There's no turning back
I've caught the love
I'm stuck in your honey trap
There's no turning back
you've caught the love
you're stuck in my honey trap.
and it hurts
when we pull each other
by the heartstrings
like twisted puppets
Now there's no turning back
we are stuck in the honey trap.

As quick as lightning
time goes by
streaking cross the black of night
people leave and friendships die.
As bright as lightning
the sun comes out
revealing carnage
shells burned out.
As loud as lightning
again night falls
but i just keep walking
these empty halls.

A small and gratuitous thank you
to every single one of you
who read my absent minded emotions
that I plaster among the fields of great poetry.
A gracious acknowledgement
to the best friends
who listen to me say the same things
over and over
about the same boy
and his beautiful hands
and his leaving for Germany.  
A sincere recognition to the new friends
who tolerate my abnormality
and hang with me through the spontaneity
of midnight conversations through
binary code of chat functions.
A sincerest gratitude
to the mother who carried me through
the hard winter
when anxiety made me heavy
with the weight of my worries.
Who now shares happy afternoons
garden beds
and chai tea on the front porch.
To everyone in my life
who witnessed my darkest hours
and sunniest peaks.
To every single person who has trekked the terrain
of my unpredictable personality
and sarcastic biting words
my cruelty and arrogance
my sleep deprived, half assed attitude
my unpredictable pickiness
and my constantly changing tastes.
You have seen me at my worst
and stayed strong by my side
so now I am proud to share with you my best.
To everyone who helps me get through the day
Thank you.

She said that he took her
Sailing.
Back when she was still in love with him.
She said that everyone must fall eventually.
But what a pity that he's not capable of returning the favor.
She said that he's not normal
But I said that's why I've found my eventually.

And I dream of sailing
with him
In a mutual eventually.

Oh
what a conundrum
We
have here.  why do we
All
love the pretty boys and girls who
Are
so *******
Pretty.

Once upon a past time
I hated the way I looked.
Every ounce of fat that clung to me
like a needy child
was more than just weight to bare.
Once, I walked past every mirror I saw
not daring to face
what I might find in the reflection.
Once, I glared at every curve and fold
that I found in the canvas of my skin
wishing for the synonymous
thin
beautiful.
Once, I hated myself
simply because.

I stand taller now
I hold my shoulders back
I flaunt every curve and fold
I am proud of every ounce of my body
simply because.

I refuse to take responsibility for my actions
and admit that this is my fault.
I blame him.
I call him a *******
for enticing me.
Yet I am the one who spoke that dangerous word
Love.
****, I can't deal with it
the thought of him
of losing him
because he's not like anybody i've met before.
Nobody else
is so magnificent.
There will be others
but no other like him.
I can't deal with the thought of him
leaving.
I can't deal with the fact
that he might love someone else.
The fact that he doesn't love me
even when I use the most dangerous word
in the human vocabulary.
I said Love
and I meant it
even though I wish i could take it back
because he's leaving
and it hurts
so i refuse to take responsibility
for the dangerous word that bubbled across my lips.
Love.

My heart beats fast
And my lip are sewn shut tight
With secrets
That I may not speak of.
With every lie I tell
To preserve my self
Another stitch is added
To the web.
Every **** time
I have to chose
Wether or not
To speak the truth.

He's leaving for Germany
In two weeks time.
I don't know when
He will return.
I only know that this
Resembles the tragic unrequited
Love
Only found in Nicholas Sparks novels.
I know that I will find someone else
But I am terrified
That no one else will have hands as beautiful as his.
That no one else will have the perfect idyosyncrasies
I don't want him to go
But he's leaving.

I adore the way
Your form fills my mind
The way you kick open doors
Just for the hell of it.
Your smile is always a full on grin
With no exception.
Every time I see that expression
Fill your face
I am full
Of secondhand happiness.
I love it when you climb trees
Just for the hell of it
When you run into the woods
When you do what you want
Without worrying
What people will think.
When you wear forest green pants
And ignore the sarcastic complements
From the ****** girls
In the courtyard at lunch.
When you play your violin
Like a Stradivarius
And fill the practice room
Like a concert hall.
I adore the way
Your form fills my mind
And when I sleep
All I see are your idiosyncrasies

Imagine a world
Where words are not a facet
Of communication
Where language
Is no longer a barrier
Where people speak in music.
Not in lyrics that are poetically
Formed by the hand
Of a well penned composer.
Free flowing lyric less melodies
Communication with a
Chromatic scale.
No stumbling over words
Just the emotion flows from your mouth in a song.
The happiness of light and flowering
Classical music
Mozart.
The bubbly energy of
Jazz, Swing
The peppy beats of
Pop without lyrics
To tie it to one culture exclusively
The sadness of
Alternative
The intensity of
Metal
Every emotion conveyed
In the purest form of music
No words to express meaningless
And arbitrary concepts
That were created by words themselves.
Imagine a world
Where the hindrance of words is replaced by the simplistic beauty
Of music.

Health teacher
blindly reading off the slides
of a powerpoint.
"Don't Have *** Kids!"
"Pregnancy"
"STD's"
"Abstinence"
Perhaps if they took a break
from the negativity.
Perhaps if they stood back
and realized that
gasp
preaching abstinence isn't the solution.
The only reason for the
"Pregnancy"
"STD's"
is that they don't teach us
how to practice *** safely.
They make no mention of
Condoms
Diaphragms
Pills
They tell you over and over again
that if you have ***
there will be children
there will be ***
there will be ******.
They make no mention of anything
other than the cis straight white vanilla ***
they leave the *******
off of all the diagrams of vaginas
out of fear that maybe a woman could
gasp
******!
Preposterous!
They preach victim blaming.
They tell the girls
to stay sober
to never put your drink down
long pants
turtlenecks
Instead of teaching the boys
to keep their erections in their pants.
to treat women like humans
that no means no
she is not an object
she did not "deserve it"
she didn't owe you anything.
Ignorance isn't bliss
and Abstinence isn't safety.

I pulled my old green lunch box
down from the top of the refrigerator
the other day
because my blue one is broken.
I toted my old green lunchbox
swinging it on my wrist
as a walked in the rain
to the bus.
I noticed his
old green lunchbox
that he clutched in his hand
as he walked through the rain
on the way to the bus.
I thought something
preposterous.
Perhaps matching was not a coincidence
but a sign.
A sign from a god or fate that I don't believe in.
That matching is to destiny as fetus is to baby.
I hoped
I hope
That matching will lead to Love.

This is an apology
to all the friends I made
under false pretenses
in the third grade.
I beg forgiveness for the lies that I told
because I was an ignorant nine year old
who had no friends
and wanted to be important
more than anything.
I spun lies
and fed them
to unsuspecting children
on the playground.
I told myself that they were stories.
I forgave myself
every **** time.
With every word that slid off my tongue
I imagined the countless hours I spent
alone
and deemed my stories
an acceptable alternative
to loneliness.
This is an apology
for all the lies I told
to try and convince myself
more than anyone else
that I was interesting.
And for the friends who stayed with me
who waded through an ocean
of dishonest answers
to innocent questions.
Thank you.
You found the real me under a cocoon
I wove for my fragile ego.
This is a promise
for a future devoid of lies.

There are flowers in my garden.
Hyacinth
Tulip
Verbena
Daffodils.
Not enough
to make a bouquet
but there will be soon.

My mind
is a blank and empty canvas.
My soul is open and vulnerable
when I behold you
as you smile downwards.
A butterfinger bar lays in your palm.
Your eyes lite up like that
of a child on christmas morning.
I see on your face, in your eyes, in your smile
an unseen joy.
As if your life has been completed
by a single candy bar.
Your smile is the true essence
of happiness.
I see such joy in your eyes
as i have never seen.
Such a smile
i have never beheld before.
How can just one person be
in such perfect harmony
with the world.
I behold you
with my gaze
and pray to whatever god may exist
That I will be as happy as you
someday.

Everywhere I look
another face strikes my fancy
another fantastic body
another dazzling wit
another amazing intellect.
Everywhere I look
I fall in love with
another great ***
another perfect sense of humor
another caring heart
another love interest.
Everywhere I look
I fall in love
with more beautiful people.

I see her.
That beautiful girl
with full lips
long wavy brown hair
and big eyes.
Her laugh
makes me happy
Her smile brightens my day
like the sun.
She is skinny
but not overly so.
She radiates the confidence I wish I had.
She is perfect
and beautiful.
She is the first girl
who I've fallen for.
If only
everyone understood
that there is no wrong way to love
then I would have a chance.

When you are angry
do not slit your wrists
Slit something that deserves it
like rotten pumpkins
tomatoes that refuse to turn red
burnt toast
ungrateful pieces of blank paper
clay embodiments of your enemies.

When you are happy
bottle it up.
Spread your love
but don't spread yourself too thin.
Save some for yourself
for when you feel like
a pile of petrified dog **** on a sidewalk.
And smile
because you're beautiful.

When you feel empty
scream
cry
punch
run
put out everything you've got.
Listen to music that's full of passion
splatter canvasses with color
scream words that
would make your parents angry
and sailors proud.
Make yourself feel alive.

When you feel sad
read a happy book
listen to happy music
watch a happy movie.
Keep moving forward
because you're mistakes are arbitrary
and anyone who hurt you
is a pile of petrified dog **** on a sidewalk
and you are walking away.

When you feel anxious
control your breathing.
lie down
close your eyes
listen to calming noises
wash your hands in warm water
with soap that smells just right
until you feel better.
Please feel better.

When you feel in love
let them know.
Waste no time trying to be chased
trying to be coy.
Tell them you love them
because life is too **** short
to have regrets.

When you feel
rejoyce.
because
the world is more beautiful
when it is tainted
with your feelings.

He watched
as she walked ahead.
As her hips swayed
like tree tops in the wind.
She looked to him
over her shoulder.
Her hair blowing
in the wind.
She walked
among the trunks
of the trees
in the forest.
He walked next to her
and held her hand.
He kissed her
on the cheek.
She kissed him
on the lips.
The trees all shielded their eyes
as they laid down.

He watched
as her eyes closed
their breathing slowed.
The crest of her bare hips
and her beautiful thighs
that she thought
were too big.
She looked to him
and the trees stood as witness
when she said
"I love you."

It was a good day.
The day when she decided she was worth it.
She decided to talk to him.
She decided that she didn't care if he thought she was annoying as hell.
She was worth it.
He talked to her.
He smiled at her.
He kept watching her.
He stood too close to her
on purpose
Because it was a good day.
Because she was worth it.

She is a creature of habit.
When she folds things the edges must be perpendicular.
She brushes her teeth twice every day at the same time.
She gets stuck on things
Like forgotten chores, particle physics, and boys that are two years older.
She can't sleep
if she breaks her routine
or does things out of order.
She loves notebooks
because she loves to designate things,
not because she likes to fill them.
She loves math for the symmetry
and hates it when she doesn't understand.
She is a perfectionist.
She beats herself up when she isn't the best.
She loves corners
and lines
and the symmetry of the universe
She loves books
because they are more perfect than real life.
She loves him
because they are creatures
of the same habits.

Life is frail and futile.
Life is an accessory
To a universe
Independant of our actions
A human life is but a second.
That ends before you reach the end
Of a sentence.
And is over when you least expec-

You are like crack.
I'm addicted to being around you
The thought of your kiss
Your touch
Makes me smile and blush
And dream of wedded bliss in vain.
I am young
My love is futile.
Every ivory dream
Ends in unrequited love.
Every schoolyard crush
Ends in obsession.
When will I see you again?
A single hour is never enough.
A single day leaves me hungry.
No matter how long
It's never long enough.
I am addicted to you
And you don't even suspect it.