I am not in love with her
Or lust, or infatuation
But nonetheless;  
She leaves her mark
Traces of herself all over me
Mahogany stains bleed through on my fingertips
Streaks of purple smudgings are left in my ear canals
Trickles of red wine are swept along my tender neck
Oozing down, down, down, down
And I cannot scrub this from my skin
No matter how many hours I waste
Lathering myself up into a foam of obliviousness
Still at the end of the day she is there, intriguing as ever
Trapping me again
In this foggy purple haze

I need you
I need you like oxygen
Or food or water or sleep
Though I’ve made it through stinted periods without you
I always come crawling back in withdrawal
I could call you an addiction, but you aren’t; you’re a blessing
Like I needed the razor I kept in my hoodie pocket
You cut through life’s ******* the same way that blade did
But without bubbling blood up through my skin
The crawl space I used to cry in could never comfort me like you
You pry open my eyes to harsh, enlightening reality
That space was a blanket of blissful ignorance over necessary truth
I could call you an addiction, but you aren’t; you’re a blessing
I always come crawling back in withdrawal
After stinted periods without you
I’ve made it without food or water or sleep
I’ve made it without oxygen
But I need you

This is a tricky game
Infatuation floods the chest
Instantly; but it isn’t water
Far too vast for that
It’s warm, syrupy and thick
Wreaking havoc and
Producing symptoms
Glazed eyes
Flushed cheeks
Formed through
Indulgent nights
Grinning
Giggling softly
Instead of sleeping
It all feels so good
Within your chest
You would never want to
Rid yourself of it
But infatuation is disorderly
Overwhelming and easily spread
A molasses mess of fantasy
Of everything you think you feel
Once those feelings
Curdle inside your chest
Into a hardened truth
You will not be able
To breathe

Hey, listen.
You hurt me
Really, really bad.
But it’s okay.
It happens.
**** happens.
We don’t always
See the consequences
Of our actions
It’s okay.
And
If you ever decide
To speak to me again
I’ll be right here
Okay?

I like to throw parties
Atypical of most sixteen year olds
With nice homes or
Any semblance of social lives

I like to throw parties
Without that horrid throbbing bass
Free of that hormonal chaos
That reeks on the furniture for weeks

I like to throw parties
The way that God likes to write our fates
Pulling strings to drag the misfits and the dorks
Together in one place

I like to throw parties
Where happiness is what is expected
Laughter is what is anticipated
Cause everyone there is meant to be

I want to protect you from the storms of life
I want to be your umbrella in the torrential downpour we call tough times
Though my fabrics may be porous and the water I shield you from may cause splash back
I want to be there
At times it may seem that no one loves you
I’m **** sure that’s not true
But I am not always sure that anyone else has a good enough grasp on the word to know
That it by definition means you have to be there for the ones you claim to love
Otherwise it doesn’t mean a thing
Otherwise you’re just the dope standing in line at the store trying to get a return without a receipt
But why would anyone want to return you?
You may have come straight out of the package only to be a busted toy that fell into bad hands
But as a porous old umbrella I can assure you
In my life you are the best that I have got
I’d rather shield you from the rain than any naïve, gleaming package
Whom has no comprehension of how ****** life is beyond the store walls
And you are far more beautiful anyways, with those missing bits and nicks in your plastic
In fact I thought you were so beautiful I wrenched myself from my owner’s hands
So I could protect you from the pain within the rain instead
You were just a toy that had been trashed but I was willing to lose myself for you
Willing to lose my time inside my cocoon of ignorance in someone else’s hands
Just so that I could be blessed enough to call you my best friend
I wanted to bear the weathers over our heads so that yours wouldn’t feel a drop
And the only weather I can’t protect you from is the flood of your tears
But when they surge upon us in times of trouble I prefer to invert myself and collect
Allowing them to pool in the basin of my memories so that one day when you’re stronger than that
We can take the time to look back and laugh
At the broken toy that couldn’t see that her worst problems
Could be fixed by a leaky old umbrella

I am a sheep wrought with steel wool that’s coarse and painful to the touch
It erupts anything that touches me into a throng of agitated skin disease
So I habitually avoid anyone and anything that nears me with my terrified animalistic eyes
For fear of watching some curious creature bleed because of me and my dangerous idiocy
However as a sheep with sheep tendencies I can’t help but follow after the herd of my family
From a distance; trotting over trodden grass that’s easier on my hooved feet
Than other paths that are less traveled, more dangerous and more interesting
Instead staring at my family’s tail ends with an envy too poignant for my age
As they baa and cackle and coo over their own amusements and mutual understandings
And I find myself wishing woefully that I wasn’t just a sheep with steel wool
But a ferocious wolf, independent and beautiful; merely hiding within an ugly costume

You know how when you walk down the street
You can hear the whispers about everyone else on that street

That the frail, sallow faced homeless man with the rattling tin can
That man whose moaning and screeching weakly to himself can only mean bad things

Ought be locked away; shoved into a loony bin
Ought to be rattling his skull against a padded wall instead of a can

Well they all say he must have lost his marbles somehow
Well they must have fallen from his ears like gumballs from a metal chute

As if sanity is just a series of tiny glass ***** that you could lose beneath your bed
As if the memories and morality of some demented women are just collecting dust somewhere

But I doubt that sanity should be perceived in that fashion
But I doubt that our mental stability isn’t more like one massive marble

All thick and glassy but crusted in spatters of glitter
All shiny and glimmering with the memories of some tortured soul

Rocking back and forth against their skulls and chipping away their ability to cope
Rocking back and forth the way they do in the fetal position; alone in their bedrooms

Breaking off tinsel-y bits of their childhood, their personality, their purpose
Breaking off a kaleidoscope chunk of their minds

Perhaps we don't ‘lose’ our marbles at all
Perhaps they just crumble away

You’re so uncontrollably sweet
A tooth ache and diabetes
All wrapped up in a lovely foil
But my touch is like water and
I would hate to make you melt

He and I are different you see

He has a spare tire around his belly
And mine is soft and riddled with freckles

He’s got a part him ravaged by cancer
And I’m tainted with signs of depression

His forehead is bigger and smattered with speckles
Mine is pale and hidden with frazzles of blonde hair

He thinks economically and can be a bit assuming
I think way too much and yet am ridiculously oblivious

But he and I are the same you see

Despite the factors in between us
We’re forever linked by kin
And I am forever grateful

I have been living in the warm womb of solitude
For the past few months of my existence

Enjoying all the numbed emotional experiences my fetus-y form can handle
Feeding off my friends and family to steal their wisdom and words

Stealing their past revelations and independence and growth
Growing pounds like a puppy and gaining inches like a tapeworm

Till my previously battered brain begins to crave
The aches and pains of heartbreak once more

Yearning for the cold, unforgiving air of reality on my newborn skin
After nine months of solitude and twelve weeks of young love

Searching wantonly for the sensations I left behind
Such as the warmth of a girl’s fingers between my own

My mind demands something more rigorous to live through
My mind, a scarred warrior, craves a new challenge

Something for it to be beaten and bloodied and crushed by
Something for it to mourn and learn from and conquer

For you see; the wings within my spine are quivering
They’re rippling with excitement at the thoughts in my head

The thought of finally, finally, finally
Getting back out into the world again

Gender is not a tangible object
It is not something concrete
Which can be held like a hand
Or felt between your fingers
So why do we give it such
Hard edges and boundaries?
Aren’t the things we imagine
Meant to be limitless?
If in our minds we can fly
Or have infinite money
Then why is gender
Some moronic made-up concept
To go along with our genitals
So rigidly defined?
My biological *** may be connected to my junk
But my gender is not
It is not there for doctors to examine
For its’ health or girth
You cannot unzip my pants
Or the thoughts in my mind
To find my gender
Get that through your ******* head

There is a boy
That I was
Absolutely enamored with
Awhile ago

I think part of what
Built up my
Obsession
Was our metaphors

“You’re so strong
Yet gentle;
So fierce but tender;
You’re nearly a lion”

“I can’t even stand how
Gorgeous you are
How you seem to know it all
My lovely, lovely Athena”

But the worst of all
What literally
Kept me up at night
Didn’t become a metaphor until today

We had a mutual love
Not of a typical interest
No; you see we were
Moon fanatics

He loved the moon
I loved the moon
And I have realized that I
Was ‘moony eyed’ over him

They used to have a routine
The two of them
Every day at ten past one PM
They’d sit in the fourth row
Of the classroom
Side by side
She’d listen attentively
To the teacher’s lecture
And he’d wander through his
Thoughts; listening to his mind
His massive arm would drape
Over her petite frame
Her dark corkscrewed hair would surge
Till it lay atop his free hand; a color contrast
But the routine changed
As did some feelings
Everyday at ten past one PM
She’d sit in the fourth row
Of the classroom
All alone
She’d listen attentively
To the teacher’s lecture
I would slowly work up the nerve
To slide into the lone seat beside her
Her dark corkscrewed hair surged
Till it whipped around as she could see
That is was me
That I was not him
…
She smiled

I cannot really love
At the moment

But you know what I can do?

I can still
Appreciate

Women

And their beauty
Admittedly, their bodies as well

For their long dark hair
And big, round, soft…
Eyes…
And their disproportionate noses
Or baby fat laden cheeks

I can still appreciate it all

And every woman
Needs a little more
Appreciation
Doesn’t she?

I am here to serve
To appreciate
But not to love

(I mean it Ma,
Click back now
I’d rather not scar you
Or cost us even more money
On therapy)**

The first time I had ***
I felt horribly guilty afterwards
I can only guess as to why

Maybe it was because I was the ‘boy’
Of the circumstance
The one thrusting and holding her up

The one that didn’t get to ***
The first go around
The one to wash their fingers clean in the aftermath

While the ‘girl’ wiped up her nether regions
Put her pants back on
And remained in an ‘aftersex’ glow

Maybe it was because I was the ‘boy’
Of the circumstance
That I was the one that ‘took’ something

But whatever the reason
Is irrelevant because within days
This guilt faded

As did any taste of regret
Vaguely reminiscent of the
Taste of her ***

And replacing said guilt
Was love; strong and (now) poignant
Beyond my years

And she is gone; literally so,

Thus replacing said love
Was pain; strong and poignant
Beyond my years

Replacing said pain
Was another type
Quite common of my age

A madly bruised hand
To be exact;
Courtesy of my teenage idiocy

Replacing my physical pain and idiocy
Was another girl
One that could never be ‘her’

I cannot kiss this girl
It’s all so different
All so ******* wrong

I can’t stand her braces
And the taste of sour milk
That is always marinating in her mouth

I can’t stand this girl
But it is not her fault
It’s, to mimic a cliché,

It’s me, not her
And I am, genuinely,
Sorry for her


But I am so, extremely, pathetically
More sorry
For myself

They tell us to forget
Our past flames
And our broken romances

But I do not want to forget
Because I can still remember
So, so, so many things

I can remember
That time you said
That I just made you “so, so so happy”

That you loved the way
I lit up into a goofy smile
When you did certain things

That the thought of us
Together into even adulthood
Was a lovely thought

They tell us to forget
Our past flames
And our broken romances

But why, why why
Why would I ******* want to forget
Those things, how you made me feel

Even if you don’t
Feel them or say them
Anymore

The thought of those times
Makes me so so so
**** happy

And yet the thought of those times
Makes me so so so
**** sad

Oh
Maybe that’s why
Well then

Just call me
Ms. Self Destructive
Then

We sit in a café
Ceramic mugs of
Seasonally appropriate beverages
Wrapped in our grips

Surrounded by folks who also have
Ceramic mugs of
Seasonally appropriate beverages
Wrapped in their grips

But we are not here
To chat on about the weather
Our significant others
Or careers; no

We certainly are not
You glance at me
In a nearly
Conversational manner

“So you had your heartbroken”
You say, a combination of an
Unsurprised sneer and a nostalgic frown
Upon your face

“So I had my heartbroken”
I repeat, my lips cracked and my mouth
Blistering slowly from the heat
Of my seasonally appropriate beverage

“Are you, like the good little kid you are,
Doing the things
That they tell good little kids
To do in order to recover from such an ordeal?”

“I am, like the good little kid I am,
Doing the things
That they tell good little kids
To do in order to recover from such an ordeal”

“I haven’t even given into that
Deep, gut wrenching temptation
To do something terribly
Terribly destructive”

I state this in a mockingly proud way
Before pinching my chapped lip between my teeth
And gnawing on it until a swell of blood
Dripped into my seasonally appropriate beverage

“But what I have found”
I say, slowly, licking my coppery lips
“Is that despite all these
‘Coping Mechanisms’”

Your expression is inquisitive
Brow raised, eyes lit up
Like storm clouds with lightning
Stirring somewhere behind them

“I suppose you’re wondering why…”
I state slowly, before sighing an a
Somewhat irritated manner
"I’ve thought this thought too many times before..."

“Because no matter what
My mind refuses to even ponder
The thought that I am meant
For anyone but her”

I was swimming;

I was
Strong
Confident
Powerful

Treading through the only current

That was
Strong
Confident
And powerful enough

To keep up with me
And my needs

When suddenly the current
Was manipulated; as liquids usually are
Into a massive funnel
With a spout too small
For me to even kind of conceivably fit through

The current is gone

But I’m still curled up

I am still
Weak
Timid
Useless

Against this smooth, slippery surface
Still wet with that current’s touch
Yet so, so, very
Alone

I need to write something
No, no you don’t understand

I need to write
I need to prove something

(Though I do not know what it is)

That I’m talented?
That I’m alive?

That despite weeks and weeks
And months and months

Of retreating into the darkest corners of my mind
Giving you only dark, depressing drabbles

If anything
To go by

So despite being well aware
That this piece is going to be

Complete and utter ****
**** that’s hot and moist

Plugged with pine straw and grass

Beneath the glorious writers
Of HP’s feet

I need to make that sacrifice

I am here
I am *alive

I have gone under; I’m drowning
The whirlpools of your eyes
Russet and Sepia so
Overwhelming
Striking me hard
On the noggin
In the heart
Till I am
Gone

I do not want you to
Enjoy my poetry
I want it to hurt you
My unbridled teenage rage
And angst
Don’t you dare smile
Or laugh at the times that I
Am suffering through
I want my words to sting your eyes
Till tears burn in the corners
Making your vision a foggy
******* mess so you can see nothing else
You do not know anything of
What I am going through
Do not try to empathize or relate
To these bruising words
Let them hurt you, maim you
If you want to help me
Let me hurt you
Poetically

Just stop breathing God ******
Stop breathing right now
Understand?

I cannot stand the rise and fall
So slow and steady and alive
It moves me along
Simulates something that I
Do not want to be

Understand?

The human body is a beautiful thing
It’s all emotions and organs and strength and power
Wrapped up in a seamless casing of warm flesh
With blood circulating throughout each limb
Meant to function no matter what occurs
And thus one might think that God or Science or whomever

So brilliant and wise would make us a little more… resilient

So that my emotions wouldn’t be a befuddled mess
Certain organs wouldn’t ache with pain and desire
My strength wouldn’t fail me when I needed it most
That power wouldn’t hurt those I’m near
The flawless skin I was blessed with would still appear as such
And I wouldn’t be leaking blood all across the floor

I know I haven’t been
‘Around’ for awhile

(In more than one way,
but that’s a story for another time…)

My apologies for that
But I want to tell you

About a girl
That loves the world

She loves cats in silly costumes
She loves taking her socks off at the end of the day

She loves eating till her tummy aches
She loves the rain and the boots that it requires

Cheery, isn’t it?

But somehow those ‘loves’
Aren’t the right ones

They’re not the brand or type
Or whatever the hell

That she needs
And craves deep down inside

Which results in a little thing
I like to call depression

Which results in
Suicidal thoughts

Which results in
Blades and blood and tears

And all the effects in
‘Those categories’

Not too cheery is it?

You reached my heart
Much like a worm

Crawled through inches
Of insecurity and flesh

Till you reached that
Precious pink sac

You stuffed it full with your
Disgustingly masculine company

Slimy wiles and wriggly larva
The size of my thumbs

Then once I was
Suitably contaminated

You pierced it
Without a drop of remorse

Maggots and sludge
Emotions and memories

Burst and
Spatter across

My ******* and neck
You made your presence

Well known in my
Dying and infected carcass

I have begun to
Stiffen up

When a particular word
Walks into the room

This word is an intimidating and
Curvaceous woman

With crimson red lips and
A horrid laughter that leaves me

With reddened, chafing ears
And misted vision

Have I fallen victim?
To Beauty’s dear friend

Insecurity, a wide mouthed *****
Whom manifests in every human’s features

The zit above my brow
Or the scar along my lip

In actuality Insecurity seems
Unaware of her duty to ruin me

Instead she has allowed Beauty
To ****** my subconscious

For beauty has crawled in my skin
And made herself quite comfy

She has reddened my lips
Given me corn silky hair and height

Everyone loves her and the
Glimmer that she has put in my eyes

That shine is actually the sheen
Of foggy tears

But what admirer
Gives a **** about that?

This beast; Beauty
Within my skin

She is all
That I am good for

Sphere of
Yellow

Hangs as an
Ornament

The inky
Darkness

The blackened
Night

Instances beneath the lunar
Deity

Swathe me in
Shadows

A murky
Déjà vu

Pulls forth clouds
Remembrance

All the aging
Memories

Or perhaps a storm
Doubt

Between me and
You

I painted my nails today
For the first ever time
And not gonna lie

I did a pretty **** job of it

But such feminine activities
Were just the things I ran from
As a child

In muddy sneakers and men’s tees

Just like my emotions
Or any real feelings I had
Jealousy, Admiration, Love

For I; all brazen and foolhardy was

Too tough for silver nails
Or pigtails and tears
Even true love

I cannot see
Underwater

Everything is blurry
And intimidating

Yet warm
Warm enough to convince me

To open my eyes once more
Only to be blinded a millionth time

Quite similar to real life
Isn’t it?

I have no faith
In an existing deity
I’ve never knelt down
Whispered my regrets
Darkest secrets or desires
To my ‘Lord’

But I do not think this makes me
Any less human
Than you; if anything
I am worth far more
Despite my lack of belief
In the goodness of humanity

Because there is something
Or someone; who
Through late night talks
Of astronomy and lions
And silly nicknames
Has given that to me

I have faith
In this one young man
Enough to kneel down to his ear
Whisper my regrets
My darkest secrets and desires
He is worth more than an imaginary Lord

He and I
Are like lions
Magnificent golden fur
Clumsy oversized paws
Content to lounge
Warm grass blades
Or stalk prey
Under the stars
And the moon
Beneath feline pride
Is a ferocity
To keep us
Both forever safe

Who is he, Who is he
The broad shouldered
Stubbly chinned
Tired eyed
He is a young man

Who is she, Who is she
The sloping shouldered
Sparsely peach fuzzed
Bright eyed
She is a young woman

Why is he, Why is he
Squishing inside her small frame
Scraping his beard against her shaven face
Marring her youthful eyes with his tiredness
He is a young man

Why is she, Why is she
Crippling her stroll with his swaggering stomps
Darkening her skin with his brunette stubble
Masking his age with her dazzling irises
She is a young woman

Who is he
Who is she
Why is he
Why is she
Trapped

I like quite often
But never love

I theorize this is why
When his eyes met mine

My mouth produced
A mere quavering whimper

No confession of love
Nor a quest for a life together

My heart remained unchanged
Though I quite enjoyed our time together

Was this all for naught?

I’d like to name
My child
Peter
Parker

Then raise him
On Spiderman
Producing an
Intended coincidence

But it’d be
Alright
If he liked
Batman; too

I love you so much
I would crack open your skull
Pluck out your brain
Read your thoughts

But apparently that’s not socially
Acceptable
So I suppose I’ll settle
For holding your hand instead

We spent a night
Where the moon was looming
And yellow
Above our heads and far from our fingertips

He told me the moon
Was mine to keep
I just had to reach out
And take it

So I did

We spent a night
Where his heart was looming
And red
Beneath my head and far from my fingertips

I told him his heart
Was mine to keep
I just had to reach out
And take it

But I didn’t

I cannot read one man’s thoughts
While I can hear another’s
In the background

Because my mind
Can only grasp one human’s
Truest intentions and dreams at once

Any more leads to
Poor comprehension
And just one in itself is a blessing

Childhood taught me
To hide behind boys
With bright eyes and muddy sneakers
Whom’s laughter and
Enamored smiles
Would protect me from my feelings

Early adolescence was a time
To experience the many firsts
Actual desire
The denial inducing judgment
That always
Comes with it


The stage of time you might name ‘now’
Has been a breath of fresh air
And honesty
That no matter how differently I
Love
We are all the same

She walked on her toes
Knobby knees bumping together
Forming a tomato colored patch
On her soft pale skin

Hours I wasted
Watching that pastel flesh rise
And fall
I did not comprehend why I did

Hours I wasted
Learning for myself
To correct my stance
Tan myself to a bronze shade of ‘beauty’

While she still walked on her toes
Knobby knees bumping together
Forming a tomato colored patch
On her soft pale skin

I began to comprehend why I
Watched that pastel flesh rise
And fall
Learning that the answer was ‘wrong’

Hours I wasted
Just to have my brain bleached
Her funny stance and bruises
Forgotten

All for
The sake of
Society’s very own
Normalcy

There was a smell
Of ***** in the air

There was an eye
Brown like ***** matter

There was a thought
About someone else’s 4 PM dump

There it was in my mind
As I was kissed for the very first time

They crawl and creep
Through the streets
On skinny hands and calloused knees

Sometimes they don’t have hands
Or sit on the curb and rattle demands
From the contents of the plastic cups or cans

So we cannot hear their teeth
Under the blustery air that follows beneath
The passing wealthy folks’ feet

I can still recall
The oddest things
About our embraces

The warmth of her blotchy cheeks;
Swollen like water balloons
Beneath my fingers

The scent of tears and perfume
A salty fume of womanhood
Swirling in my nostrils

The clogged up tone of her congested sniffles
Vaguely feminine snorts
Bouncing around my ears

I can still recall
The oddest things
About our embraces

They were all
So
Sad

People say teenage love
Is a burst of butterflies
Or a set of flushed cheeks

Oh how wrong they are

I say teenage love
Is a quaking nausea
Or a set of nails bitten raw

And if it is butterflies
Then they knaw at your insides
Till you bleed

The reddened cheeks are
A result of pulling
On the baby fat you loathe

Teenage love
I say
Is far from pleasant

A part of me
Is going to be lost
To a white gold band ring

A part that flings
To occupy an entire king bed
All by her lonesome

A part that consumes
Cold bacon at noon
On Saturdays

A part that constructs
Towers of unwashed laundry
Taller than skyscrapers in Dubai

A part that represents
My disgusting
But honest personality

A part of me
Is going to be lost
To a white gold band ring

And that’s alright with me

Why is everyone
So
Loud

The vocal chaos
And
Endlessly agitating noise

Could
Cease
Easily

Walk with a
Gentler
Step

Throw away those
Hectic machines
Of blaring mayhem

Perhaps if you
Did
Our thoughts would quiet too

For a softer
Quieter
Peaceful world

Those fortunate enough
To be living without
Anxiety; believe
It is like a disease

But in reality
It is a creature that
Thrives in environments
Which tickle the senses

A pair of noisy heels
Can drum up fear in me
That clutches to my ears
Which rash and mulish force

The itch of a shirt tag
Consumes my attention
Deletes my feeling any
Other touch but that pain

An acid taste of foul
Street side food I received
From a pushy hawk
Stirs more than nausea

Such sensations are
Unremarkable to
Those anxiety free
Cause they don’t live like me

Where such surroundings
Have a vice grip on the
Mentally unstable
They cause a pain unseen

The long spindly legs
Of our Lord Centipede

Are raw and weak from
The way they’ve been dragged

Through unforgiving ground
It imprints them with sensitivity

Till each limb is trained to dodge
The earth that makes them weak

The slick land of jealousy
Or the unsuspecting pebbles of insecurity

If a single appendage trips up
On such emotional hardships

Lord Centipede crashes
Oh so brutally down

She caught in flames of
White hot, sporadic spouting
Misread teenage rage

Can I survive?
In your blood red world,
Of high expectations and meager lives.
With so many rules my mind cannot unfurl?

You would not endure it.
If were to see my blue society:
Days are not planned; hardly stitched.
And those awards you hold mean nothing to me.