*******
I feel better than I have in so long
Just while everything's going wrong

But how can anything go right if it never went wrong?
Every right turn that should've been a left makes me smile
Every brush stroke that should've been a charcoal smudge,
It's a dream come true

Holy ****
My grandma just turned ninety years old
I swear she's the most fantastic person I've ever met
She's been pushed down so many times and she still smiles

Because how can anything go right if it never went wrong?

****, I'll dance in the rain if I want to
That might be why I'm always sick

And I'll be a ******* ****-up if that's what you wanna call it
Broke and stupid, sick and impulsive, but *******, I'M SMILING

Everything's gone so wrong
But when I stopped singing to the rain, commanding she go away,
I ******* danced and loved and lived (whatever that is)
And even my demons danced and even my ghosts chuckled
And *******, so many wrong turns led me to the hurricane coast
And it's the best place, and the blessed place, where I can't help but smile

Because how can anything go right if it never went wrong?

Once every year,
We cry, "Lest we forget"
But more often than not
I believe it to be "Lest we remember"
Because intentions can only cry so loudly
Like bluebirds can only fly so high
And like thankfulness becomes forgetfulness
Like a paper flutters in the wind and disappears

We cry, "Lest we forget"
But what we seem to forget is to remember
We must chose to hold on and hold our breath
A shock to our system to prevent choice by inaction
A choice to forget

Once every year,
We cry, "Lest we forget"
But more often than not
I believe it to be "Lest we remember"
Bluebirds can only fly so high,
But they will soar with nostalgic wing beats
So long as they remember the way home

The Night hosts her socials for the monsters inside and out
In the moonlight we come dancing, clinking bottles, wandering about
We are goblins, ghouls, mummies, witches, zombies and misfits alike
Dressed up in our finest tuxedos, pearls, lace, bloodstains and the like

The Daylight wont have us, but the Night plays hostess to our monster bones
She slips into her midnight blue party dress and she puts on the Ramones
And we dance
we dance
we dance

O, we are the dark psychopaths, the feared, the soulless creatures
We companions by the moonlight are shaking, stammering vultures
We are friends in wayward trudges, we are spitting, foaming vermin
We are in love       We are the World's rejected kin

The ghouls and the witches and our old zombie friends,
The World's most dark and repulsive in clear-cut diamonds,
We monsters aren't alone in the night, drunken, broke and hideous,
Charming and disgusting, we are the Night's beloved insidious

In the night, we are happy, giddy, wasted children
We are the Fiend Club, we are the monster brethren
Until we are caught, disfigured, drunk and red-handed        by the Daylight
And we make our way home, to crawl under the floorboards        and sleep until twilight
Until the Night's long fingers slip an invitation under the door
And we will put our party dresses and our tuxedos on once more

*O, the moon is out and the Fiend Club has woken
The Night is young and we are broken

Here lies the bottom line of your existence:

Chemicals
Organs
Nerve endings
Fluids

Dust dust dust
An eventual nothing

There are only so many poems to write about heartbreak
only so many ways to say "I love you and I hate you"

Only so many ways to personify the Night and hold her accountable
for the thoughts she shoves down one's throat, fear-dripping and cold

There are only so many ways to reach out in metaphors
desperately grabbing at any emotions their words might stir

There are only so many poems to write about being a stupid kid
with a mixed-up head and a heaving heart
with a cynical mind and a disappointed shout
and only so many ways to cry it out

Only so many half-smoked cigarettes and sweet perfumes
Only so much room for oxygen tanks and desperate goodbyes
It's getting crowded here with heavy clothes and defeatist tones

But there are so many of these murky nights
and only so many ways to get by

you knew I loved that song
because it was all about ******* up
******* up repeatedly
which was all either of us ever did
so you played that song
you played it loudly
and you taunted me

but we both ****** up
we both ****** up repeatedly

and you walked around in that black shirt
the one I bought you for your birthday
when things were good
and you still called me "sweetheart"

you wore it because you knew
just how much I loved the way it looked on you

you had more birthdays
and more gifts
and more loves
but you let that black shirt tumble dry
and you wore it all the time

and I wore my hair the way you liked it
and I wore your favourite clothes
and sang your favourite songs

and you hated me like I hated you
while that song played in the background

and you wore that black shirt, fading grey
and I grew my hair long
and you hated me like I hated you
while we picked at our scabs like school kids

I'm sorry for my poetry
I'm sorry it isn't about coffee stains
On lace tablecloths

I'm sorry I don't have little anecdotes
About our shy and awkward love
Or his fearless mouth

I'm sorry the lipstick is always faded
The metaphors are sloppy, stumbling drunks
And the skies are never blue enough
I'm sorry about my poetry
I'm sorry for my poetry

I'm so, so sorry
Please just let me cry it out
I swear I'll clean it up