I am trapped
Encased

In a crusty shell

Of grotesque awkwardness
And ugly flaws

That’s beginning to strangle me

-x-

You are hiding
Concealed

In a sleek covering

Of restrained beauty
And face value

That’s smaller than your worth

-x-

They cannot see
Lies

Assumptions they have made

As the total
Prisons they are

Fools; we ought escape

-x-

Peel away my
Putridity

And I will shatter

The suffocating shell
Of accepted beauty

So we can love

-x-

Burn these stereotyping
Masks

To smoke and ashes

See what space
And freedom creates

We’ll be new beauty

I catch myself
Constantly

Thinking about you

Reminiscing about
Every feature you possess

**** this life!

And **** our distance
I’m missing you too much

A blonde woman sitting on a brick ledge
Is throwing her hands, calloused and raw

The hands of an aging artist

Into seamlessly meshed gestures
Grand but sometimes ridiculous motions

To narrate a story for an amused spectator

She lives for the smiles of her listeners
But lives off the change they drop in her cup

With a bright smile that’s secretly melancholy

Due to the choice she made; to live a free, happy life
Without the burdens of disappointed onlookers

Completely alone

It’s an easily known fact
That I bite my nails
I mean, just look at them,
The uneven, reddish picked skin
It's blatantly obvious

But it’s funny how easily you can relinquish
A lifelong habit like biting your nails
If a pretty girl takes you fingers in her hands
Kisses each individually and says, with the most adorable pout,
“No biting!”

I never knew I could drop a habit so fast

Maybe I’m just weird
But it seems rather
Strange to me

That it is only I
The gay atheist
Will say the pledge

All the others around me
Cocooned in warm ignorance
Refuse to address rights only they have

She stared me down
Her eyes harsh and vicious

And maybe just a bit fearful

"I can't give you what you're used to
I'm not experienced like the others"

"I don't have the answers you're looking for"

There was just the slightest quiver
In her softened lips

A sign of her hesitation to speak her mind

My own expression was curled into
A gentle, almost amused smile as I replied

"I'm not hard to please"

I love the ignorance
That so many can live in

How we can easily
Without even realizing we’ve done it

Categorize or stereotype
And make assumptions in mere seconds

Oh yes please
Preach your words of recognition

Then go on to label and typecast
Every single one of us without a second thought

True acceptance

Pop
“God!” She snap at me
Pop
Hair flying like mad as she whipped around
Pop
“Why do you always pop your knuckles?”
Pop
Her green eyes would be blazing as she’d rant
Pop
“You know it drives me nuts yet every day”
Pop
Her mouth would twist with frustration
Pop
“Without fail you pop them! Why?”
Pop
I don’t think she was ever expecting my response
Pop
“Because, love,”
Pop
“If didn’t you’d never even look at me”
Pop
“And I wouldn’t get to see that pretty face”
(Pop)

Personally I think the photo
That really captures ‘me’

Is the one of a little blonde child
Perhaps two or maybe three

Donning a muddy navy blue dress
And little scuffed up Mary Janes

With the widest most manic grin
Little fingers clenched tightly into fists

As if to say to me
“Let’s tear this **** up!”

She used to wear a ring
And whenever I’d lean down
To press my lips to the metal
She’d giggle; wooed by my suave

Somehow it’s just not the same
To kiss the cold metal that
Once adorned a warm, gentle hand
I miss her laughter

It is rather easy
To let negativity
Bog you down

But you realize
That it really
Isn’t an issue

When it’s solved
By something simple
And Neanderthal style

Like your rather
Prudish girlfriend finally
Giving into your

Never fulfilled but
Longtime secret fantasy
Locker room ***

Pounding down on the pavement
Thrusting your arms to an irregular
Yet somehow natural pace
Legs rippling in a painful bliss
Ears burning from the screams of watchers
You have the stupidest
But happiest look on your face

Racing like an absolute mad man
Letting every other thing in the world
All the troubles that cling to your muscles
Finally release their  slimy chokehold
To let you shake your thoughts away and
With sweaty locks of hair plastered to your face
Make the final stride

Often time’s girls will be flocked around me; bubbly and bright
Babbling on about whatever ‘adorable’ antics
The various boys they’ve been stringing along
Have cooked up to impress them

And I just think to myself
(Silently)

About how half baked these dates and plans are
The pathetic plans to go to ****** little fast food joints
Every other idiot hormonal teenage boy
In the midst of wooing with his current consumer

And I just think to myself
(Silently)

That oh my stars, I could do so much better
If it weren’t for the blind eyes of these lovely girls
I could be a chef of a million stars
Compared to the pitiable plans they’ve been spoon fed for oh so long

Is it strange for me to say
That with the passing of
Yet another year
I’m most certainly young but I feel
Old?

So much as occurred since passing
That simple little thirteen
Quite literally
Cancer, Sexuality, Grades
But also figuratively I suppose

Even in youth it seems
That I bear so many more scars and wrinkles
And so much more knowledge
Than my peers
It’s as if I’ll need a walker soon

Point, Whisper, Laugh
Judge her; that girl there
The fool on the leash of
The cruelest but
Most beautiful girls

Point, Whisper, Laugh
Judge her; that girl there
As she stumbles, head over heels
To try and please
The cruelest but
Most beautiful girls

Point, Whisper, Laugh
Judge her; that girl there
As she falls for yet another gorgeous woman
Who's only going to take advantage of her naïve demeanor
The cruelest but
Most beautiful girls

Point, Whisper, Laugh
Judge her; that girl there
It’s never going to stop, this pattern
She has grooves on her neck from the leashes of
The cruelest but
Most beautiful girls

She’ll never learn will she?

Really? You’re trying to write poetry about how
A girl broke your heart?

I thought you could at least try
Not to be so stereotypical

But I suppose even the wisest of the fools
Such as yourself have flaws as well

Yours is your heart of gold

Who am I even trying to fool anymore?
I’m just waiting for someone to call me out

Someone to see the absolute absurdity
Of everything I’ve been trying to be

I’m such an idiot; as if anyone could ever like me
Or anything I tried to fake being

Tap tap tap

The sound of nails
Rhythmically striking wood

Tap tap tap

To the quickened beat
Of nervous and fluttery heart

Tap tap tap

As you’re completely at the mercy of
Those uncontrollable urges and worries

Tap tap tap

As you wait; ever infatuated
For the girl that makes you squirm

How long am I going to spend?

Pressed against the wall breathlessly
Waiting for my Prince Charming

Before I manage to plow through

This thick headed ignorance and
Realize that I was never the princess

Somewhere a beautiful girl is waiting for me

To come parading in on a stallion
And sweep her off her feet

She makes me feel
Like my bones are filled with air
As if I’m breathing helium

I’m drifting upwards
I think I would go to the
Stratosphere

To keep this perfect feeling
The lightness of all her love
For just a bit longer

Oh look and see him
That fellow on the pedestal there
He’s the golden boy, Mr. Perfect, number one
How did he get there you ask?
What did he do that was so magnificent
It allowed him to wow you all
To climb to the top?

Because while he’s been there
On his ever glorious podium
Sitting on his fat *** and humming
I've been using ****** busted claws
To desperately try and reach that place
Through academics and sports and awards and things
As he got all the attention for no ******* reason


Why you all can’t just see my value?
Is it you or I that’s blind?
Can’t you see my use; the benefits I’d bring you?
Or at least, realize how fractured his stupid golden boy image is
And see the tantrum throwing *** that screams at me?
It must be me who’s blind, and not just that
I’m also worthless

There is this girl
I used to know

I knew her long ago
Years and years ago

I was rather rude
Crude and immature

Now I meet the girl from
Years and years ago

She’s just so broken
A fractured shard of

That dorky but brave girl I picked on
Years and years ago

I can’t help but think that
That I was a fraction of the crowd

That broke her down
Years and years ago

How will I know
When I am in love?

When she knows I don't have
Any of the answers

Yet it doesn’t change
The way she looks at me

Every once in awhile I would see
Her façade weaken to a breaking point
She would shut down and cry in front of me

She’d let me comfort her
Run my fingers through her hair
Touch the planes of her skin in soothing ways

Listening as I whispered consolations
Completely unaware or perhaps just
Too exhausted to even care

That I was relishing her failure and the
Intimate opportunity it gave me
To touch and try to win her over

Till she reset her mask of power
Forcing her to put me back in place as her
Devoted best friend and hapless desirer

It's not far on this path
That we would go
It’d be a stumble away
If you would just go on and run
I know you won't take the plunge

If I could push you
Just shove you over the edge
I might do it cause
You would catch yourself
I know you won’t take the plunge

This thing we’ve been doing
It’d be gone by now if it’d meant nothing
It would've faded out by now like a dream
Clearly we’ve got something better than that
I know you won’t take the plunge


I've been waiting for months now
You know that no one gets my attention like that
I’ve been hanging around even though I doubt
You’ll ever grow a pair and finally man up
I know you won’t take the plunge

I struggle to express myself
With words anymore

Instead I’ve taken to the
Slightly masochistic method

Of running like mad
As means of release

My feet pounding on the pavement
My muscles screaming in agony

Up to the painful peaking point
Where everything finally numbs

It feels like every hurtful mental musing
Has been forced out of my body

My mind finally quiets if only for a short while
At which point I lace my sneakers and repeat

I am content
But not happy
But surely content
But surely eased
To sit here
And never change

Content to see
As you mature
As you grow
As you blossom
While I’m unmoved
And never change

Content to stay
Never learn maturity
Never grow new
Never discover blossoming
I wallow alone
And never change

Content to wait
As you tire
As you decide
As you leave
Knowing I’ll stay
And never change

Every evening
The world is
Swathed
In a soft
Yellow curtain
Of subtle light
Just before sunset
It’s pretty
But I’m a bit
Saddened
When it comes
Because this
Yellow curtain
Is only falling
For a nighttime
Performance
Of blackness

Knowledge
Has called to my curiosity
Beckoned my interest
Summoned my attention
I have learned too much
Far too soon

Knowledge
Has found its clutch on my mind
Has wriggled into my conscious
Has weighed down my thoughts with guilt
I have learned too much
Far too soon

Knowledge
Has infested my thoughts
Has rotted my mind
Has eaten my innocence alive
I have learned too much
Far too soon

Something so young
Already so
Tainted

Something so young
Already so
Impure

Something so young
Already so
Wasted

I think I’m going to
Slow down for awhile
I need to embrace that
I may be mentally mature
But I’m still just a kid
A kid with an unbelievably and
Obnoxiously mature mindset
But a kid nonetheless

So I think I’m going to
Slow down for awhile
God knows that I really
Don’t need to be worrying
About the dramatics
Of the adult lifestyle
And I need to enjoy that fact
While it’s still true

They say that there’s a silver lining
In every blackened cloud
But when will that lining come?
This rain’s taking its’ toll
I think I need that perfect sky
Because this rain’s taking its’ toll
I’m not sure how much longer I can
Stand so wet, drenched and cold
I’m starting to crumble under the
Pressure of these rain drops
I need some pretty sunset or
A silver lining right now

Her face is a sour
Washed out ugly gray
Similar to that of dishwater
With greenish clumps
That closely resemble
Floating milk clods in the
Center of her face
For eyes

Her hair is a worn out
Expanse of stringed greasy mess
As if she'd dunked it into a fry cook's sink
And left it to sit
With the occasional underscore
Of a darker, muddy brown
Streaks of feces throughout her head
For highlights

Her body is such a frail
Structure of porous bones and blood
A once pure white is soiled with
Brownish blood red speckles and smears
Like the horrid remains of a wolf’s meal
She can’t even hold herself up and she
Shudders and shakes constantly like some
Sort of like a hypothermic deadbeat

She’s so undeniably ugly and
Disgusting feeble and poor
But how would you feel if I
A relatively sane, accepted member of society
Was able to see something in this horrid girl that I loved?
You’d never accept it and you’d no longer recognize me
For finding love the wasn’t perfectly suited to your ideals
My love has to be pretty

Do you know the feeling of looking into a window
And seeing something warm and happy
While you stand in the cold and dreary rain?

Wishing and wanting to be able to
Cut, copy or photo shop
Yourself into the scene?

But you can’t because
You don’t belong there
You’d just look unnatural in the picture

Your face would look ugly among all those
Pretty faces and happy souls
So completely unlike your own

Perhaps if you’re struck by a moment of luck
Someone on the other side will come to the window
And curiously touch their fingers to the glass

They’ll just be wondering if you’re worth it
Seeking out to find your hand’s heat
To see if you might be able to fit in the picture

But you’ll just scare them away in the process
The cold storm you’re followed by
Is far too fearsome for someone so soft

They’ll just leave you again you know
For their own warm memories
To forget you in the dreary storm you’re followed by

The longer you linger by the window of someone else’s memories
The less likely it is that you’ll find a pane or two your own happiness
And the more surprising it’d be that you ever escape your own storm

You fool
Yes I know
That it’s unfair
How lovely it feels
To have another
Human being
Another woman if we’re specific
Another sin
To be pressed against your body
Yes I know that’s what it feels like, you fool
How could I not?

You fool
Yes I know
How sickly wonderful it feels
To capture their lovely lips
They’re kissing soft and gentle lies
That seem so
Perfect
That they must be illegal
Like some sort of unknown treachery
I know that’s what it feels like, you fool
How could I not?

You fool
Yes I know
That it’s unfair
How distortedly gorgeous
All those other women are
Like a **** unlawful drug
Hallucinogenic and hypersensitive
Able to light your senses on fire
With just a taste
I know that’s what it feels like, you fool
How could I not?

You fool
Yes I know
That it’s unfair
I know that’s what it feels like, you fool
How could I not?
I too have
Indulged in that pleasure
And now I lead an
Ever tasteless life because
That pleasure will always be a
Sin

My thoughts
Musings and views
They’re a train
A bullet train
And they’re driving
Steaming along
Steering straight only
To hit another train
That smashes it all to pieces
Everything I’d thought
I finally had figured out
Shattered quite plainly
Making me realize how
Foolish I was for thinking
I had even the one proper theory
On how the whole world works
How absurd

Touches
Soft and feathery
The dreamy intimacy of
Some lovely golden haired angel

Touches
Soft and feathery
Begin to burn and
Sting like some twofaced ******

Touches
Soft and feathery
Sear my very skin
Till I’m melted like earwax

Touches
Soft and feathery
Lie

Ha!
Laugh at me
Throw trash at me
Strip me down
Expose me; please

Rip away my crusted exterior
To see what’s really inside
It’s putrid I’m sure
It’s foul and nasty
It’s just the disgusting trash
You anticipated it’d be
It couldn’t be anything more
Right?

With your manicured nails
And photo shopped perfection
You could never be wrong
In seeing what I
In my raw essence
Could be
I could never be anything worthy

But tell me please
What you
In all your perfection
Would do
If it turned out that I were
Pretty?

Her face
Sour
A washed out ugly gray
Similar to that of dishwater
With greenish clumps
That closely resemble
Expired milk clods
For eyes

Her hair
Worn out
An expanse of stringy greased mess
As if she’d dunked it into a fry cook’s sink
With the occasionally highlight
Of a darker, muddy brown
Like Mother Nature gave up on a painting
And left her

Her body
Frail
A structure of porous bones and blood
A once pure white soiled with brownish red speckles
The devoured remains of a media wolf’s snack
Unable to really hold itself up
It shudders and shakes constantly
Sort of like a hypothermic deadbeat

So undeniably ugly
Disgusting feeble and poor
Yet somehow
Against what all the yet of you see
I see something gorgeous
Something that could be loved
What I see in her
I love

I cannot miss your touch
I was oblivious, and never really felt it
I didn’t know you’d be gone so soon

I cannot miss your voice
What I thought at the time was listening, wasn’t good enough to memorize it
I didn’t know you’d be gone so soon

I cannot miss your scent
I never braved the proximity it would’ve taken to know your musky whiff
I didn’t know you’d be gone so soon

I cannot miss your taste
I was too ***** to ever go after you, or your flavor
I didn’t know you’d be gone so soon

I cannot miss the sight of you
Though I saw you, I didn’t learn your appearance well enough
I didn’t know you’d be gone so soon

Now that you are gone
I hate that I was so cowardly; so craven
And don’t have the vaguest remembrance of what you really were

I immerse a lilting fingertip into the
Milky icing of
My birthday cake
Intending to celebrate
Another year of life

But I am not struck by the
Pride of aging but instead by the
Shame of a compulsion
The flame on the candles brings

And licking the icing off my skin
I replace the icing with
The searing heat of
The candle stick

Wincing not only at the feel
Of my skin charring in the heat
But also at the sick
Guilty pleasure
I receive from the action

This isn’t what
Age
Is supposed to bring

Pride
At watching my maturity change
Pleasure
At new, refreshing experiences
Love
Of the expanding number of memories I held
That is what I thought
Age would bring


But no
Instead it carries with it
Shame
At the growing cravings for pain
Guilt
For the hidden experiences in darkness
Hate
For the inability to stop the thirst

Dipping your fingertip through the
Milky cream of cake icing
And dabbing it on a lover’s nose?

No
It is more along the lines of

Dipping your fingertip through the
Searing flame of the cake’s candles
And dabbing ointment on the shameful burns

You gain as many friends as your age represents
But these friends are
Shame
Embarrassment
Neglect
And every other negative thing
You never thought age would bring

Skin
Silky smooth
Like satin bed sheets
Creamy and peach
Like FAGE yogurt
Undisturbed and unwrinkled
Like a pool of endless youth

Hair
Perfectly sculpted to curl and swerve
Like writing on the surface of an ice rink
Colored an array of various toffee browns
Like the fanciful coffees of foreign cities
Softened and voluminous
To fill every corner of a room like sea foam

Eyes
So young and bright
Like that of a newborn child
Blue and unbelievably light
Like staring into the tinted mirrors of a palace
Rounded and flocked by milky lashes
Like fluttering wings on a swan

How am I to fall
In love
With someone so utterly perfect
And so utterly different
Compared to me?

They are not in love
Her sea green gazes
Are not filled with
Love or compassion
They are filled by
Dissatisfaction and
Distaste at what she
Has allowed herself
To settle for and with

They are not in love
His watery blue glances
Are not filled with
Love or compassion
They are filled by
Desperation and
The admiration of a
Mere man child
Unaware of what he has

They are not in love
My darkened ocean stares
They are filled by
Love and compassion
They are filled by
Utter devotion and
Sheer romanticized love
I could give her and it'd
Be worth so much more than his.

They are not in love
The media’s pale gray glares
Are not filled with
Love and compassion
They are filled with
Greed and rejection
Of what is not fitting
In the perfectly styled
Heterosexual world

They are not in love
I would like to proclaim
With hell to the media
And his watery blue glances
I could fill her with
Far more love and compassion
Than he or the media
Ever cared to give to her

I stood there
In the dim lights of our den

A place once cherished
But now otherwise ignored

It had become his
Hiding place

His refuge for
When he wouldn’t speak

At those times
Like right now

I would stand there
Behind him

Delicately trailing random patterns
On his sweat-soaked tee’s back

He used to dress nicely
Plaid polos and such

But ever since she passed
He was rather shoddy in his appearance; sloppy

I could feel his body
Rise and fall

Each breath shorter and less healthy
Than the last

But I said nothing
Simply humming softly

Finally he lifted his head
His pale, pallid skull

Topped with slightly thinned
Reddish hair

It’d been so thick before
Before she passed

He turned slowly
To face me

His face was a sickly purple so unlike the warm peach
It’d been when she was alive

His lips were pale and chapped
Unlike their previous full pink

And they were shuddering violently
As he tried to speak

After another moment of silence
Eventually he did

If you’d just been
Quiet

He whispered
In a harsh, raspy voice

His now yellowed teeth that he once prided in deeply
Gleamed in the den’s faded light

If you had just
Kept your **** mouth shut

He elaborated
In a sour undertone

I felt my stomach sickening itself
But refused to show reaction to his words

If you had just been able to silence yourself for a ****** minute
She would not have died

I knew it was true
And so I did not try to stop him as he stood

He was gone within hours
To accompany her

To abandon me
The idiot that could not keep quiet

Thus now I am what you might call a
Mute

For silence is a friend
That never betrays

I am tired
Oh so unbelievably
Undoubtedly
Exhaustedly
Tired

I feel as if I am
Carrying the weight
Of the world
And all its burdens
On my shoulders

When in reality
Not a soul would give me
The time of day
Let alone a dark secret to hold
Or a trust needing thing
For me to never breathe

It’s the encumbrance
Of having nothing to carry
Whilst other march
Indifferent to their darkest loads
That makes my shoulders so heavy

I am tired
Oh so unbelievably
Undoubtedly
Exhaustedly
Tired

I would
Rather be
An empty
Pretty
Shell
Of beautiful lies

Than a
Faulted
Full figure
Of blatantly flawed
Imperfect
Truths

I would be called
Hideous
And fat
For carrying the burden
Of truth
And pride

I like this
Style you have
The hair
Perfectly sculpted to be
Falling just over your eyes
The pout
That one might call
‘Boyish and cute’
The punkish clothes
That look questionably good
On your suburban boy body
I like this
Style you have
But I do not love it
Because I cannot love someone
So different from me
So perfect compared
To me

It was as
I floated there
The chilled waters licking
At my bare skin
The hot sun soothing
My stressed muscles
That I realized
In her rather warm
Embrace
That I really did
Like Her
No
Scratch That
That I really did
Love her
So with
Vague butterflies
A soft smile
And a gentle tug
I pressed her mouth
To mine
Tasted chlorine
Lip balm
And love

I do my
Best thinking
When I am cold
And I do not mean cold
Such as
Mild shivers and
Light body quakes
I mean
**** straight
Runny nose
Over the top
Wooly sweaters
And hot chocolate
To soothe
My frozen bones


I suppose the
Intensity
The feel of my
Frigid skeleton
Pressed against my
Clammy Skin
Wakes me up


So I sit there
****
(Because God knows those sweaters were hideous…)
With a glass
Of frosted judgement
And ponder over thoughts
That were previously resolved
Only to reconsider


Why in God’s name
Did I say that to her?
Do his stares really mean
What they imply?
Did I leave the stove on?
Till my mind
Liquefies
To mere mush
And the chills
Overtake my curiosity
Are replaced by
A mug of hot beverage
Of my usual lukewarm distaste

Matted autumn leaves cling
To every surface
The cold concrete streets
The orangey red brick walls
The chipped facade exteriors
Of road lamps much like me
The peeling rusty paint
Dotted by bits of dampened foliage
Little knotted up black things
While road lamps don’t give a ****
I have to pick them off my clammy skin
And then they get under my nails
They are abundant right now
Like all the other frustrations of my daily life
Sneaky little *******
The air is incredibly damp
It’s thick with fog
Carrying with it a familiarly pungent
But ever revolting scent
Of a funky little diner down the street
That makes my freckled nose wrinkle
Reminiscent of the scent of past disgusts