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.

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 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.

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

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?

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.

*******

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.

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.

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."

What is light really, but all the spectrum
crammed into both a wave and a particle.
What is skin tone really, but light
being reflected off pigments
that are compartmentalized in cells
that are made of atoms.
What is sexuality anyway, but the amount
of chemicals that flow through your brain.
What is religion really, but fables preserved
in synapses and energy.
What is a pant size anyway, but a number
to illustrate that your cells contain more proteins
that the model with more prominent ribs.
What is discrimination anyway, but the lack
of the spectrum in one's heart.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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 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.

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...

Sun sinks moon rises
Clouds caress the waning moon
It is night sleep now

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

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.

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.

you are slender and sleek
your hair as black as night
and when you were smaller
you and teddy used to fight.

we named you after citrus
because you were so sweet
then you had a **** ton of kittens
which threw us off a beat.

I keep my door closed at night
so that you don't disturb me
and when you *** in my closet
It's pretty **** unerving

We really should get you declawed
sometimes you make us bleed
but if we have an infestation
you're the one we need.

One time we gave you the wrong food
not on purpose, i am sure
but then you farted in my face
and then you were abhorred.

I promise that i love you
even though you're such a ****
just because you're my cat
and i'll always be your nerd.

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.

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.

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.

It's like a little black dog
Padding at my feet
And this dog
Refuses to heel
But when I face
What scares me most
That little black dog
Learns to obey

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

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

Wind blows the wrong way
Thunder and lightning rumble
Rain pitter patter

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.

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.

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.

Laying In a puddle
Of blankets on a lake
Eyes full of stars
Like the sky before her.
Her toes dangle and ripples
Disrupt the starry reflection
Names, places, patterns race
Through her mind, faster
Than the sped of light.
This moment stretches on forever.
Space can be infinite, but time cannot.

Sometimes she wishes for a new
Set of stars above her.
A new body, a new life
A new start
She wishes on stars that shoot
across the sky, for
A purpose.
But stars are just ***** of gas on fire
There is no magic in science.
Sometimes she forgets things on purpose.

When she dreams, she dreams in constellations
And in the color of the fires that burn
in the night sky.
She meets a boy who sees stars in her eyes
And helps her make constellations of her own,
But as is life,
He grows tired of her stars.

Lying in a puddle
Of blankets on a lake
Eyes full of tears.
The sky full of stars fall
upon her eyes
And oh, they are
Beautiful once more.

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 *****.

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.

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 *******!

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.