like many drugs, I've been abused, I've been broken, down and used, strong as a castle wall, until you came to watch me fall, haunted by our mistakes, every wrong move we make, just strike a match, let bridges burn, and walk away from lessons learned,

You dad used to work with my dad
I remember
You and I used to argue
About who was taller
When our families
Got together for dinner
You were the boy
With the slightly curly blondish hair
We were those friends
Who were friends when they saw each other
But our time together
Was always limited
And we never hung out or talked
When our families didn't arrange to meet
But I remember you well
You probably don't recall this
But you taught me how to tie my shoes
When we were little
Back then
It was okay
To be friends with a guy your age
Without any thought of romance
Having any possibility
Of coming into play
But now
You and I
Are older
The same age
And tonight
And I heard your family
Was coming
So I put on a dress
Even though it was a bit much
For the occasion
I blow dried my hair
And put on my make up
Tried to look pretty for you
Rehearsed smiling
When I opened the door to you
But unfortunately
I opened the door
And only your parents came in
You were busy or something
I don't know
The parents joke
About how they should have told you
That I was going to be there
Good opportunity for you to get a girlfriend
But honestly
That is kind of along the same lines
That I was thinking
I got all dressed up
For nothing
I'm a little disappointed
They talk about you
They say you've grown tall
Stockier than your older brother
I wonder
If your attractive eyes
Have changed at all
I hope not
Your eyes always smiled
Brighter than your mouth
I hope to see you soon sometime
Because I'd like to see
What has become
Of the boy I used to know
Who taught me how to tie my laces
With the smiling eyes
And the slightly curly blondish hair
You might have forgotten me
But I
Remember you

Let's break all the tension with the pretense of my presence.
Yes, I'm insensitive--but there's no other incentive others can give--
And while I'm not sure I could prevent it, I swear to no god I'm inventive!

Yes,
My hatred is incessant--ever present--and it's what I hold most sacred.
I'm a naughty narcissist with a nasty list of wasted kisses,
And I won't say that I'll miss 'em, 'cuz I'm the type who never misses.

I'm a hopeless romantic with a new sense of Tantric hope,
It's the antics of a frantic mind, but I'm too calm to cope.
They say I'm a raving, violent--rarely silent--tyrant with a craving
for the obscene,
Though, while I'm mean, I'm rarely seen within a mob or in a scene.

I'll admit I've got a streak, but--if you'd stop to take a peek--
You'd see a Buddhist, not a nudist, who's less a demon than a geek.
I'm oblique and I'm obtuse (do these math puns work for you?) yet I'm rarely never right;
Get my angle? Catch my drift? I might thrash, but, man, I'm thrift!
Hold on shift: I'M SCREAMING NOW!!
Don't know why; don't have a cow!
Remember that? That 90's rap? Look at me then; that piece of crap!
Shot down! Torn up! Shut in! Turned out!
Lips are sealed; inside I'd shout,
'Bout just how bad I wanted out!
Enraged and crazed; cravin' razors; a victim hiding from all saviors!
Turned to the pen to brace for the knife,
Started writin' and saved my life.
It's funny to say my life got better the day I started a suicide letter...

But letters turned to words and those words became whole worlds,
And before my very eyes a whole legacy unfurled!
I was GOD--not just a slob--but a shaper of all things,
And the schemes that I'd been dreaming shifted into scribing,
And I never stopped since then; it's why I'm still alive!

So my insanity became vanity as calamity turned to amity.
Sheer pessimism became untamed narcissism,
But if the mind's a prison then consider me jail broken.
Outspoken, re-awoken; take a moment to let that soak in.
That a boy doubtful of tomorrow could ditch the sorrow,
And become an immortal--though immoral, not totally amoral.

So yea, I've got my faults; I'm a sensory assault,
And while I don't mean to offend I'm just a product of the ends.
Played with fire; I got burned.
Dared to aspire; I was turned.
So I inquire to you sires as I march out of the fires:
You've seen my darkness and know my story--beginning, middle, end--
My name is Nathan Squiers, do you wanna be my friend?

I love standing
at the top largest hill of
Camp Half-Blood. Watching the
greens as the nymph wood dance in the hum of nature. Satyrs seasoning the forest with their magic recipe. I should spend more time, admiring the beauty of the wilds. For ere long, the border won't last long. Barbaric creatures will start to crawl. Demigods will fight, and I'll be there, holding a papyrus like a playwright.*

   (a.k)