When I fall
I fall hard.
For the boys and girls
With full lips
Pale skin
Blue eyes.

When I fell for you
I got stuck
On your intellect
Your biting wit
Cynicism.

Your form
Is stuck in my head
Your rare smile
Is imprinted on the backs
Of my eyelids.
You are all I see
When I sleep.

And when you stand
Just slightly too close
I wonder.
I wonder
If you chose to stand next to me
If your fingers brushing across
The back of my hand
Was an accident.
If the times I caught you staring were coincidences.

The last time I fell
I fell hard.
For a boy with full lips
Pale skin
Blue eyes.
I made a mistake.
I gave up on you.

Have you given up on me?

Six
Seven
Eight
High schoolers.
A cloudy sky above them
Confined into a corner
Painted on pavement.
A playground ball
Bouncing between them
As the joke and laugh
And yearn
For the days
When we still had recess.

Sticky young hands
Clutching magnolias
Holding them out
Like an offering.
The unrequited love
Of years to come
Glistens in his eyes
For but a moment.

Sharp young minds
Clutching magnolias
Spinning webs of imagination
Like silk worms and spiders.
The webs, soon to be tainted
With lies and flies
And magnolias.

Bright pink magnolias
Epitome of womanhood
To brighten the rainy day
When he layed magnolias
On his mother's grave.
Only a child,
Weeping into his father's
Sullen form.
To young to understand
Death.

Sticky young hands
Clutching magnolias
Holding them out
Like a promise
To remember.

Blood
A faint trail
Across a dainty wrist
To express emotions that
Cannot be expresses in words.

Blood
A wild gush
Of a wound freshly
Cut. Carved into skin with
The intent to harm. Maim. ****

Blood
Staining the
Grey pavement
A dark maroon color
As it drains from life into

Death.

The steady pitter patter
Of rain on windows
Like deft fingers on a hollow drum.
A steady chill
Of grey stretched across the sky
Like the cow hide pulled taught
Over the Woden skeleton of a drum.
Watch through windows
The rain that falls
From the clouds to the ground
Smearing across windows
In a drizzle of grey
Painting abstract trails of water
On the landscape.
Water will not scorch me
So I run in the rain
And feel alive
Yet wet with raindrops
That stain my clothes
With big wet splotches.
I escape the monotony
And the steady drum beat
When I run in the rain.

A guy named Joseph
Once said that ****
Was his favorite word
Because it could be a noun
Or a verb
Or an expression of anger.
He proceeded to shave half of his head
Precisely down the middle.
Perhaps he is not a waterfall
Of good decision making.

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"

Spring crashes over us
Like a tidal wave
Summer drifts in
Like a river
Fall comes far to quickly
And leaves far too soon
Leaving pale winter
In it's wake.
Season go on
And we lie
Together
Muffled beneath dirt
Shoved in a Woden box
Faces ringed with decay
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
And the seasons go on.
We roam the earth
As ghosts
Waking spirits
Invisible
Simply another tear
Of life
Another bridge to cross.
We lie together
For the rest of time
We walk the earth as ghosts
And the seasons go on.
Snow and leaves fall
Flowers bloom and children
Bask in the hot glow of the sun
Over an unmarked grave
A plot of land
Absent of dedication
Forgotten
We lie together
And the seasons go on.

I hang paper cranes
Above my head
So I can fly in my dreams
The map of the world
That hangs on my wall
Is a canvas for me to paint
The Shakespeare quote
Reminds me of where I'm going
Baby pictures remind me
Of where I've been
My blankets are my cocoon
I'm a butterfly
I lie in the dark
Spinning poetry like a web
Popcorn feeds my stomach
Paperback novels feed my mind
My dressing gown hangs on the door
My walls are trimmed with fairy lights
A tv sits atop a dresser
Like a skeleton, it lay unwatched
I'd prefer to dream of lilac baths
Than force my brain to rot.
Under my bed there's dust bunnies
And monsters
And in the dark they creak
But I'm sleeping with my paper cranes
And flying in my dreams.

I will not lie myself down
At your knees and bow.
I will not drape myself
Across the floor
And kiss the ground
Beneath your feet.
You are not my king
I am your queen.
You bow to me
And I shall do the same
I am your equal
Not your slave.
I am not your *****.
I don't want you to throw me down
I want to lie as equals
And if you so much as lay
A finger on me
Without asking first
You might find yourself lacking
In the eyes to behold me with
And the fingers to scold me with.
I am not your pet.
I will not come when called
No wolf whistle
Will ******* running
No ammount of persuasion
Will sway me.
I am not yours
You do not own me
And when you look upon me
And all you see is honeybee lips
Thin waist
*******
Nice ***
Even if you ask nicely
I have no obligation
I reserve the right to decline
Without being verbally assaulted
Do I really have to treat you
Like your age is equivalent
To the number of your IQ
No means no
Stop means stop
And you do not touch
Until I tell you to.
Keep you hands
Eyes
****
Mouth
And ****** preverted ego
To yourself.
I am powerful
I am a woman
Since when have those words
Become antonyms
They are the same
And a man is nothing
Without his better half.
We don't want it unless we say so
And you pay attention
When I say no
If you lack the skills
That toddelers know
Then we'll mark you down
Like it's still grade school.
But this is no playground game
Calling names doesn't equate to love
In just the same way that
Objectification isn't a complement
And promiscuity is not a one way ticket to ****.
I know rocks who have a better
Sense of moral direction than you.
Your broken ego
Makes you irreparable
You are utterly replaceable
Consent is ****
And you are not
Nobody 'deserves a good ****'
Are you really that fickle
No girl should be judged
By her short shorts
She is not the ***** here
You are horrible with a capital H
Go burn in hell.
I am not your toy
You play with me nicely
And only when
I
Say so
You stop when I say no
Could I possibly be more clear
Don't throw me down
We lie as equals
I will not lay in your bed
We play by my rules
I will not bow to you
I will not blow you
I will not kiss the ground you walk on
I am not an accessory
And you
Will
Respect me.

I see you
Standing there.
She flanks your side
Like a dog
Like the ***** that she is
She's practically swinging
From your arm
And you don't even notice her
Or at least you pretend not to.
I'm not nearly so bold
As to stand by you
Let you make me look stout
Compared to your wondrous physique
I grapple for your attention
With subtle glances
Feeling blessed if I catch your eye
Even just once.
She grapples for your attention
With her words
With her body.
She demands to be noticed
So you notice her
But I'm too **** afraid to be assertive.
You tie my stomach in knots
And the thought of you
Plucks at my heart strings
Like your long lean fingers
Across your violin.
Sometimes I can feel your gaze linger
And I know that her greedy eyes
Burn holes in my head.
Her passive-aggresive "hello"
Is bittersweet.
I'm only just beginning to realize
That the way she flanks you
Like a dog
And swings from your arm.
She puts herself below you.
Instead of noticing,
You trip over her presence
Whilst she trips over her words.
And when she speaks new languages
To try and impress you
Plays new instruments
To try and obsess you
She is not a threat to me.
Because I'm just now noticing
The subtle glances in my direction
How you always turn
To make sure I'm laughing
When you make a joke
How the fact that you
Stood just barely to close
When there was a world of open space
Was hardly an accident.
And when you did
I felt your fingers
Brush across the back of my hand
Like that of a ghost
Barely there.
And so now
I am certain.
I see you
Standing there.
She flanks your side
Like a dog
Like the ***** that she is
She's practically swinging
From your arm
And you don't even notice her
Because you're too busy
Admiring something
Far finer.

I love you more than I love my Momma
And quite a lot more than Republicans love Obama
I love you more than Miley loves twerking
And probably as much as teenage boys love jerking.
I love you more than hipsters love instagram
and about the same as the turn of the century loved the telegram.
I love you more than Hans loved Anna
and just as much as monkeys love bananas
I love you more than the asdaf kid likes trains
and most likely more than Anastasia liked pain.
I love you more than pandas love extinction
and probably less than pansexuality needs distinction.
I love you more than John loved his best man
and I ship us more than any fandom can.
I love you more than beliebers love Justin
and definitely more than **** maids love dustin'
I love thee more than Shakespeare loved tragedy
and the same amount as Ann is raggedy.
I love you more than Peeta loves Katniss
and almost more than cats love catnip.
I love you more than teachers love cheaters
but probably not as much as Jesus loved Easter.

I love you to the moon and back
and there is nothing that you do lack.

<3

This poem is dedicated to the guys in my class
who talk about girls like they aren't worth more
than their vaginas.
This poem is dedicated to the *******
who say that anyone deserves
to get *****.
This poem is dedicated to the jocks
who look down on the outcasts
and exclude them.
This poem is dedicated to the girls
who call their peers *****
because of how they dress.
This poem is dedicated to the bigots
who preach homophobia
in the name of god
This poem is dedicated to the parents
who abuse and neglect the children
that they promised to love
This poem is dedicated to the misogynists
who can't seem to grasp the concept that
No means No
This poem is dedicated to the *******
who humiliate the people
who don't conform.
This poem is dedicated to the lowlifes
who beat down the ones
that they're supposed to love.
This poem is dedicated to everyone
who carries hate in their heart
where there should be love.

This poem is as follows:

*******.

Two years ago
I asked my mother
for a bikini.
She said she wasn't comfortable
with me showing so much skin.
Two months later
my skinny little sister
laid on a towel
in a turquoise bikini.
I laid on a towel
in a long sleeve sun shirt
that my mother wouldn't let me take off.

One year ago
I asked my mother
for a bikini.
With reluctance
she gave me her
floral print bikini
from when she was my age.
Two months later
she took it back
claiming that she wasn't comfortable
with me showing so much skin.
So she gave it to my skinny little sister.

This year
I will not ask my mother
for a bikini.
I will buy one
and I don't care if my mother
says that she's not comfortable
with me showing so much skin.
I will show as much of my
imperfect skin
as I want.
Because my skinny little sister
isn't the only one
who has a bikini body.

One day
when I was small
so very small
I got sad
so I bit myself
Hard
until blood bubbled
to the surface
of my skin.
I cried
I put Strawberry Shortcake bandaids
on my self inflicted wound.
I didn't know that it wouldn't
be the last time
that I bled at my own hand.
I still don't know why
sometimes
pain feels better than nothing.
So I choose pain.

I see people
up on stage
with words in their minds
glory in their eyes
and passion in their hearts.
When they speak
they evoke emotions
that I didn't know I had.
They use words
beautifully crafted
to illustrate
they use shift to stun
They open my eyes
force me to see
because sometimes
we all need to be
controlled but words.
They are passionate
and i can feel it
it radiates from them
like heat from an engine.
They are engines.
engines of the Mind
engines of the Soul.
Their message hits you
like rocks
you can physically feel
their connection
to the words they speak
in asymmetrical rhythm
when the yell it is beautiful
when they cry it is beautiful
their words are beautiful.
I want to
write
preform
speak
listen
read
live
Slam poetry.
I want to move people
rally people
together
with my words.
I want to speak sweet lines
and watch people
transform.
I want to draw them out of their cocoons
with asymmetrical meter.
We will flock like sheep
around these poets
who draw us in with words
who speak about things that matter.
We will migrate like monarch butterflies
to a new tomorrow
with one uniting factor
Slam

"I'm so done right now"
words that too frequently leave my mouth.
So Done
It's like a disease that plagues you
destroys the euphoria of life
the exhilaration of simple things.
I see people running around
doing
seeing
being
fantastic things.
In a few years that will be me
But only if I can get up
off my first world slightly obese ***.
Because I want to see the world
feel the exhilaration of life
like i'm
doing
seeing
being part of something important
instead of part of a small town student population.
seize this day.
Instead i feel like i've downed a cocktail
of writer's block, procrastination, and lack of motivation.
I want to live my life
not read it
not watch it
not hear about it.
seize this day
I need to find the inspiration to logout of tumblr
Close my laptop and open up my door.
I can't blame anyone else for my slump
other people aren't oppressing me
it's my own **** life that's depressing me
I have wings and it's about time I used 'em
Nobody clipped them up like those birds in Fly Away Home
why should I Fly Home when I can just Fly Away
seize this day.
I need to Stop pointing fingers
turn them around.
I need to look in the mirror
and love what I see
but not let that distract me
because I am moving forward
like a freight train
My momentum is too strong
and if I pull the break i need to start all over
If i come crashing into station
Then I need a running start out.
I'm procrastinating my life away
This is no way to live.

seize every day.

Sometimes
when I think too hard,
my responsibilities
crash over me like waves
on an expanse of stormy sea
pulling me down under
an ocean of panic.
My thoughts turn against me
and the only thing
inside my hollow head
is doubt.
I can't drag myself away from
the lines i have to learn
the homework i have to do
what if my friends don't really like me
is my mum angry at me
what do i want to do with my life
no college will ever accept me
i'm not smart enough
i'll starve in the gutter.
I want to ******* die.
I lay there
paralyzed
with fear and anger
an emptiness that I can't control.
I feel like something is gnawing at me.
I know what i have to do
but I can't make myself do it
because no matter what i do
there's always more
living to be done
more responsibilities
and it's a vicious cycle
that I can't escape
and i'm drowning on air.
So i cry.
And I pray for death.

Some say that love is like a clear pond
Our pond is full of goose ****
Some say love is like a seaside sunset
Our beach is covered in *******
Some say love is like music
Ours sounds like a constipated goat
Some say love is like a spring flower
Ours is an ugly ****.
Some say our love *****
But I'd beg to differ.

Do we really need
To remind each other of
Kindergarten rules?

Treat others how you
Want to be treated; there is
Nothing more simple.

Do I need to make
This concept slightly clearer?
Don't be a *******!

In fifth grade
They shuttle boys and girls
Into separate rooms.
This is when they try (and fail)
To teach you
About ***
Without teaching you
About having ***.

After four years of
Abstinence based courses
Featuring cis straight people
And only
Cis straight people
I learned nothing
About how cis straight people
Have ***.
After four years of
Shady diagrams of vaginas
That look 0% like vaginas
And do not mention anything
About the *******
I learned nothing
About what's actually between
My legs
After four years of
Hearing the words
"STDs"
"Pregnancy"
I learned nothing
About contraception.
After four more years of
Having the same
*******
Spat at me
I will not learn anything
Because the words
"Don't have ***"
Don't teach me anything.
And being able to say
That every honest thing
That I learned about ***
I learned from ****
Isn't something
I'm proud of.

In real life
They shuttle boys and girls
Into the same room
And tell you to procreate
After a decade of being told
That *** is bad.

How do you think
Those mismatched socks feel
When you pull them
From the dryer.
Do they know that they will
Never see their match again
That they will always be
Half of an equation.
Do they know that
They have lost their purpose
Never to be regained.
When you pull that single sock
From the dryer
Does it understand
That it will never be complete again.
Sometimes
I feel
Like the mismatched socks.
But then I remember
That I am melodramatic
They are just socks
And someday
I will find my other sock
I will find you.

In the 8th grade
They told us to write about
What we believed
Others wrote about
Hope
Honor
Happiness
Hard work
I wrote about
Death
We had to read them
To the class
Everyone else
Was told
Good job
Well done
Nice work
I was told
That I was
Wrong.

In the 8th grade
They told us
To write an essay
About
Anything
Others wrote about
Cats
Music
Sports
Literature
I wrote about creationism
And why I thought
That it was stupid
We had to read them
To the class
Everyone else was told
Good job
Well done
Nice work
I was told
That I was
Wrong.

If I asked you for
Respect
You would tell me
That I needed
To earn it
When you ask for
Respect
You tell me
That it is your
Privilege.

I pray for silence
When I hear
Your angry voice
Yelling.
I pray for noise
When I do not
Hear your voice
At all.

Parents complain
About ungrateful children
Children complain
About ungrateful parents
People pity themselves
And expect so much of others
If only we had no expectations
And pitied others
More than ourselves
If only we did not yell
At our children
If only we did not ignore
Our parents
Then maybe we would
Have more room
For love.
But no argument is
One sided.

Found in the turrets
Of junk at a yard sale
When I was too young to
Remember
White cowboy boots
Just my size
I wore them every day
Every girlish dress was paired
With my tiny white
Cowboy boots
I ran
Jumped
Danced
In my white cowboy boots
Until one day
My feet were no longer
So small.
So I hid them away
In my wardrobe
And took to wearing jeans
Knowing in
The back of my mind
That one day
My child will
Run
Jump
Dance
In those
Tiny white Cowboy boots

Oh how I yearn
For evening gowns and gloves
For hats and corsets
Oh how I yearn
For typewriters and telegraphs
For carriages and train compartments
Oh how I yearn
For a time of enigmas
For a time of class.

When I walk down
The stairs and see
Fresh strawberries
And pineapple
And eggs cooking
On the stove
And bread in the toaster
I smile
Because the only
Reason that I
Get out of bed
Before 2:30
Is breakfast.

At one time
Every atom in your body
Belonged to a star
A beautiful burning
Ball of hydrogen in space
In the first grade
When they gave you
Those stickers that read
'You're a Star'
They weren't lying
So when I wish for a star
I'm really just wishing for you
And maybe
You'll be wishing
On that very same star
For me too.

I can not describe music
With words
No amount of imagery
Can capture such raw beauty
No poetry can do it justice
And I am no exception.

When you see my book
On your shelf
Think of me
And return it.
I lent it to you
It wasn't a gift.

I was young
Sticky hands
Wide eyes
Wandering through the garden
My wide eyes
Fell upon
People
New people digging up
The flower beds
The tiger lillies
And putting them in my red wagon
And taking them away.
My mother sold our tiger lillies
Because they reminded her
Of my father
And so she hated them
Both of them
And we no longer have tiger lillies
In the garden.

I'm jealous of Anna
Green with envy
But as they say
Green is not a creative color.
Why can't I be as pretty as she is
Why can't the boys fawn over me
Why can't I play
Three different instruments
Why can't I speak five languages
Three of which fluently
Why can't I be good at
Volleyball, Tennis, and Running
Why can't I look as good
In a bikini as she does
Why can't I realize
That the truth is
Anna is jealous of me too

My butterfly windchimes
Mean nothing to me
But it's still pretty nice that they're
There

One time
I drew an anglerfish
To impress a boy.

It was beautiful
Black and white
With soulless eyes
And a skeletal frame cloaked in
Tendrils

I showed him the anglerfish
He said it was creepy
I called it stupid fish
Because that's what it had in common
With love

Stupid.

At camp
There was a woods
And lots and lots of free time.
We would take walks
Lots and lots of walks

We found trails
They were made of gravel
I forgot my shoes.
Emily carried me
On her back
Down the trails.

We found an island
The island had many goats.
The island had a bridge
The bridge had a gate
Lindsay climbed over the top
Noah climbed on the bottom
Nearly wading in the river
I tried to climb the fence
I couldn't climb the fence
I fell off the fence
And ripped my new khaki shorts
All the way up to the waistband
Abe asked to see
I didn't know why.

We found a dock
Some of the boards were missing
So we ran up and down
Up and down
Up and down
Jumping over the gaps
Where the boards broke.

We found a water park
Closed for fifteen years
We tried to sneak in
In the dark
But the door was locked
They pried the boards back
And I crawled through
Alone in the dark
I found the door
And let them in.

We ran from the water park
When our imaginations
Heard ghosts
Abe ran into a fence
He got cut
Noah ran into a fence
Elijah ran into a fence
JJ ran into a fence
All the same fence
They didn't heed my warnings.

We found Noah
Running through the courtyard
With an arm full of bed sheets
And a bare chest
He climbed the tree
And left the bed sheets
Strung up in the branches
Tristan pretended to think
That it was funny
When he fished his blankets
Out of the trees.

We found friendship
In five days
In the middle of Amish country

At camp
There was a woods
And lots and lots of free time.
We would take walks
Lots and lots of walks

I am pansexual
There I said it

I am pansexual
I love all of the pans
Every single one of them
I don't care if they are
Shining stainless steel
Or rusty and burnt
I don't care if you use them
To cook
Sizzling bacon
Or extra firm tofu
I don't care if you put them
In the cabinet
Or leave it on the stove
I don't care if your pan
Is really
More like a ***
Or doesn't have a handle
I don't care if you
Put a lid on it
Or leave it on an slow open simmer
I don't care how big
Your pan is
Or if it's better suited for soup
I don't care if your pan is
Really just more decorative
And you decide not to use it.
I don't care how may times
You've cooked in your pan
Or if you've never cooked at all

I just want to say that
I love pans
And I am pansexual.

The last time that I
Was banished to the
Time Out Corner
It was because
I wouldn't read
I didn't want to read
You couldn't make me read.

Then I met a boy.
He had black messy hair
Bright green eyes
And a scar in the shape
Of a lightning bolt
On his forehead.
He was the boy who lived

Then I met a boy
He had ginger hair
Connect the dot freckles
And hand-me-down robes
He was a Weasley.

Then I met a girl
She had auburn hair
An eager intellect
And muggle parents
She was a mudblood

They hindered the dark lord
They slaughtered the basalisk
They rescued the prisoner
They witnessed the return
They battled the dark arts
They cried for the loss of their leader
They lost and they won.
And they moved on.

They are grown up now
I am out of the
Time Out Corner
And in the library
Constantly
Because I'm always reading
I always want to read
You can't make me stop reading

The boy
The boy
And the girl
Are grown up now.


And I am grown up too.

An open letter
To all the pieces of ****
Who use gay as an insult.
You really need to stop
Pretending that you are better
Than someone else
Because you prefer to
Put your **** in a different place.
You really need to stop
Pretending that being straight
Makes you more worthwhile.
You really need to stop
Pretending that "no ****"
Is an acceptable thing to say
Ever.
You really need to stop
Pretending that you're not afraid
That a man will look at you
The same way you look at women
You really need to stop.

Gay means happy
A ****** is a bundle of sticks
And you are homophobic.

oh full length mirror
when did it become a sin
to gaze through you
and admire what i see.

my lovely typewriter
smith-corona clipper
best christmas present
hope for the future
sleek black body
rounded black keys
belly full of mechanics
white paper in between
words flow from my brain
through my fingers
without comprehension
letters
words
sentences
paragraphs
pages
and then i throw it away
and start over
because no matter
what anyone says
it's always so much better
trapped inside my head.

Born of light and dark intentions
knowing not, the joy of acceptance
isolation, so serene
creator vows not to intervene
exploring life like a child
hatred bound, exceptionally wild
mangled face, open heart
hateful reception
admiring from afar
leap of courage, joy, and hope
poor reception and insults thrown
beaten down, running away
scarred for life, forever dismay
burn the home and torch the past
anger fueled and running fast
rush of water, painful current
savior of child, warrior wounded
bleeding limbs and broken hearts
yearning for a way to restart
seeking brethren in the woods
wretched intentions, misunderstood
purple marks about the neck
brother of victor, lying dead.
satisfaction, newfound goals
blame is placed, creation abhorred
seeking out thine detested creator
tormenting threats, intellectual banter
ultimatum, stories told
“create another by my mold”
creature of spite and dark intentions
never to know the joy of acceptance.

Hello my dear
this is just to say
that i ******* hate you.
You
You
You treat me like ****
your words are like knives
and every single one finds its target
because i trusted you
because i believed you
but that does not make it my fault.
No sweetie pie, this one's on you
You
You
You are a monster
you reek lies through your skin
you secrete fake love
and you are lower
than the ****** on the corner
you are even lower than
the blows that you deal to me
because you broke me
like i was made of glass
and i kept coming back
and i blamed myself
but this round goes to me
because every time that
you thought you brought me down
you just added another layer to my skin
you made me thicker
you gave me strength
but i will never thank you
now it's my turn to break you
now it's your turn to run away crying
and when you come back apologizing
i will slam the door in your
putrid little face because you
you
you
you are not worth my time
you were never worth my time
and i don't give a **** what you say
because i'm not your ***** anymore.
i'm not yours to **** dry and push away.
because you took too **** much
and now the pain that you gave me
in return is
coming
back
around.
Hello my long lost love
you
you
you better stay lost
because this is just to say
that
we
are
done.