"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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'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

Shy girl
Hiding behind
Thick lenses
Dark frames

Shy girl
Hiding behind
Thick books
Long pages

A boy
Across the room
Fruitful glances
Stuttered glances

The boy
Across the room
Likes her back

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 *****.

Long table laden in lace
mismatched silverware
chipped plates
cloth napkins and crystal cups
beneath a canopy
of knotted branches
framed between two hallowed trunks
snaggled twigs cling
to lanterns and ribbons
strung across the foliage
for the Moonlight Feast.

When the sun sinks
the guests begin to arrive
with their flowing gowns
thin veils and hats
lace gloves
masked faces
shaped like wooden birds
slender heeled black boots
daintily stepping through grass
to find a seat
at the Moonlight Feast.

As they sit
drinking their wine
tittering through
frozen smiles
one man walks
wearing a frown.
the woman by his side
pale as the moon
hair like the sun
they sit at the head
of the Moonlight Feast.

They look nearby
at the less traveled road
where a young man
walks with not a penny
they run like wolves
on their hands and knees
and strike him down
limb from limb
he is torn
and brought
to the Moonlight Feast.

The frowning man
gave a toothy smile
and as well did his queen.
The guests all ate
of the flesh of a beggar
who they slaughtered
alone on the street.
Their titters all turned to
shrieks and howls
while the moon shined bright
over these Moonlight Beasts

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

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 *******!

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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...

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.

There is no wrong religion


There is no wrong sexuality


There is no wrong weight

There is no wrong skin color

There is no wrong nationality
There is no wrong opinion
There is no wrong choice there is no wrong answer



You Are Perfect
You Are Beautiful
You Are Not Wrong.

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.

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"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

*******.

"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.

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.

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.

when darkness falls
so does shadow
the veil of perhaps
washes over you and
imagining leads you to fear.
your mind starts to play games
with your eyes
you see monsters
in your closet and
under your bed.
looking is not seeing
but they seem the same
so what you thought you glimpsed
sends shivers down your spine
your pupils dilate
fight or flight
because no matter
what your parents tell you
the blankets won't protect you
and the monsters
are
real.

Giacomo Casanova
**** of the 18th century
But he loved the person
More than the *****
'Spoiling' virgins
As if it was one sided.
And not bothering to suppress his
Love
For both human
Anatomy and the
Human heart
When he was done
With you, there was no break up
No casual washing of hands.
He would hook you up
with some rich bloke
He didn't throw you
Into the trash
He threw you through
The top window of
The palace
Where's my Casanova?
Why can't I be
******
And
Loved
Why would I be the
****
When it takes two to
make love.

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?

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 ****.

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.

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.

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.

Dear stormy mornings
On the sea
You make me happy
With so many shades of grey
Tucked into one line of sight.
I can see power in your
Subtle waves that almost look
Opaque
And the wind
Blows across you
The sea birds
With their nimble wings
Serve as proof to your majesty
When they struggle
Against your gales.
The stony beaches
Smooth pebbles
And large rough boulders
Match the flavor of the line
Where the sky
meets the water.
Dear stormy mornings
On the sea.
You are incredibly
Beautiful.

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.

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

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.