I need to tell you of things, love
both harsh and beautiful
things that weigh heavy on the soul
and threaten to stain the sun

A world like ours, is full of shadows
never let that dim your eyes, stars like those
were born to sparkle and shine rebelliously

Let them rage, against the night and those
who seek to keep the world in darkness
let them rage, my child
until the blinded see

Life is seldom fair or just
but vengeance and hatred
should never be given the chance
to call a heart as beautiful as yours, home

Remember, you are not
just pretty words spoken
but every deed done, in light
and in every dark corner

I keep trying to find a song that can describe
how I feel with the hope that
maybe it will make this emptiness seem less empty
but you can't rhyme
"scars" with "I'm sorry"
or
"sixteen" with "alcoholic"

If you are a girl and you are bisexual,
you're really just a ****.

If you are a boy and you are bisexual,
you're really just gay.

Bisexuality isn't a real thing,
it's a phase. You're confused.

All girls are secretly bi.
You're just more honest about it.

Bisexuals like everyone,
they don't know how to have real relationships.

Bisexuals are looking for attention,
They're dramatic,
They're confused,
They're *****
Idiots
Sinners
Immature.

Wrong.


Bisexuals are people.

I was standing on a beach
in pitch black
when I realized I wasn't special.

Your entire childhood,
your dad tells you you're the smartest child he knows
and your mom tells you that you have the kindest heart
and your relatives tell you you're the most beautiful girl in the world,
And it isn't until your heart has been broken
by a boy who called you the one
or your best friend has stopped talking to you
for reasons you'll never fully understand
that you realize the only loved ones telling you the truth
were your brothers,
who pointed out your flaws
and tore apart everything you found beautiful
and destroyed every ounce of pride you had.
This is the only truth you can find.

On a scale of the universe,
no single star can be considered unique.

You spend your whole life
thinking how unprecedented you are
and how different your life is from everyone else's
And you're going to be different when you grow up,
you're going to follow your dreams
and live an amazing life
and you're going to travel
and have a one of a kind wedding
and your children will have unique names,
And one day you're in your dad's office
and you see all these people in cubicles
and you realize they all thought the same thing.

You may be a star
but the universe is infinite
and there are billions of stars
and no matter what your parents tell you,

Trust your brothers.

There were moments,
days,
months
when I didn't think I would make it this far.
I keep thinking back to when everything broke,
to when I started sinking,
and I am wondering how it is possible
that I haven't hit bottom yet.

I'm wondering if there is a bottom.
I'm wondering if maybe,
you just keep sinking,
and sinking,
and sinking,
until eventually you run out of breath
and your lungs force you to inhale salt water
because it is the only thing left around you.

You're supposed to let out little bubbles of air,
never all of it at once.
Your body can keep using the oxygen left in your lungs
and you can breath out the carbon dioxide,
but eventually your chest will be empty.

And then you will swim.

That's when you kick,
pull,
claw at the surface,
drag your water-saturated body
toward the place you used to call home.

You will not make it.

You have been falling for so long
that it is impossible
to make up for the time lost.

Keep swimming.

As you get closer to the surface
your lungs will ache from oxygen deprivation.
Your legs will not be as fast or strong.
You will begin to lose consciousness.

But the sunlight will start to break through.

Ultraviolet rays penetrating the surface
will caress your arms,
you will remember what safety feels like,

you will smile.

You will close your eyes.

You will stop fighting the pull of gravity.

Corpses float.

When Jesus ate asparagus
Did his *** smell like mine;
When he ate a plate of cabbage,
As was often in his habit,
You didn't sense Divinity
In sublime proximity.
When he talked of sowing seeds,
Did the Magdalene accede ?
I know this sounds quite absurd
Talking about the living Word,
But when he ate a plate of beets
His ***** incarnadined.
(Perhaps that's how he made the wine).
And when he had a private dump
He wiped with The Roman Times.

Did Jesus use a hankie
When he blew his nose,
Or did he place ******* there,
They say God only knows.
Or if he thought he wasn't seen,
He might well use his gaberdine.

When he bathed in Jordan,
Did he clip his toes?
I haven't read this anywhere,
The Bible won't disclose.

Yes, he really was a man,
Doing the same, as I Am.
If he were here,
We could be friends,
We'd hear a joke,
Crack a cask,
Share a smoke.
I don't believe
We'd say Amen.

Oafie lingers before his mirror
Pointing at the slinger Dillinger,
In his black suit,
******* his loot,
He won't go in there.

Then Oafie puts an old coat on,
Posing before his cheval,
Sharing jokes with Robert Duvall,
Who lights a smoke for Lauren Bacall,
Who say his coat fits well.

I know this seems humorous,
But Oafie isn't left too much;
His acuity is out of touch.
But he played guitar like a harp,
Which sadly isn't that far off.

For now the famous visit often.
He shuffled stepts to classic Sinatra,
With Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.
I'll visit Oafie one last time,
And slip a mirror in his coffin.

"Whist," is what Mammy said,
As she whisked us off to bed.
Usually we'd go quietly.

But a gypsy woman sat at our table,
Reading tea leaves,
Pouring prophecies.

Guests were few, and she I knew
To be a special one.
She saw dark clouds in a cup.

My sisters, past the tender age,
Stayed up longer to hear her say,
"Tall dark men are on their way."

I pricked my ears from upstairs,
Tried to put both on the vent,
Both of them were forward bent.

Just then my father
Climbed the stairs;
I saw the dark mop of his hair,
He was tall,
He wasn't humming;
No one else foresaw his coming,
But I vanished off to bed.