You claim you are an activist,
but I'm sure you've not done a ******* thing.
Whining on the internet is a new old fashioned fling.
"I oppose the government and the freedom it tries to take!"
While you're drinking decaf lattes and you claim there will be cake.

#Iamafakehipsterdouchefag

Oh go **** yourself.

I cannot take you seriously, you ******* fakes and frauds.
You exist for mere attention and the undeserved applause.
I will not take a side and my mind will remain free.
To the past.
To the present.
And to the future,
it shall be.
To the liberals crying "IGNORANCE"! And the conservatives crying "OPPRESSION"!
I will not be a part of your self full-filling subjection.

So take that mask off and give us a "true" confession.

Sometimes I wonder…
What if I was my teddy bear?
The one with the brown fur that
With me, has gone everywhere?
I think I’d remember the name
My girl gave me.
The moment she brought me to life…  

Yes, the moment she made the wish
On that heart, and put it
Straight into my chest.
She doesn’t remember that wish,
But I do
And I’ve tried my best to make it
Come true.

The happy times when I
Was brought everywhere,
Dancing in her room,
Or brushing her hair.
Or the lonely times where I
Sat in her closet, waiting.
I knew she would be back for me.

The time she retrieved me again,
I was excited; but she was sad.
So I comfort her, though I cannot
Hug her back.
No matter how much I try.
My cotton arms are limp
While she tightens her grip
On me.
She tries to transfer her pain
Into my stuffing.
She wanted to be free of the hurt
And the suffering.

She was happy the next day,
Or so she tried.
But then, I’ve seen everything
That, from others, she tries to hide.
I was left up on her bed,
And I waited for each night.
She would crawl under the covers
And cuddle me tight.

The days turned to months
And the months turned to years.
Eventually I was forced
To face my biggest fear.
My girl, she would graduate ,
Any day, now.
I knew I had to pray
That I could leave with her, somehow.

While she packed up for college,
I sat quietly on her bed.
For how could a bear blame her,
For not wanting a
Stuffed animal
To tag along?
She packed up all of her things,
Climbed into her bed for the very last time.
She laid her head on that pillow,
And softly, she started to cry.

She quietly sobbed to me,
About her wishes, dreams, and fears.
And for another time, my fur
Soaked up her tears.
When the next morning she woke,
Scared and out of place,
She turned to me and smiled,
With a bright look on her face.
The boxes were out of her room,
She finally picked me up.

Here I sit now, in a dorm room.
In case my girl needs me.
I know I’m the only boy
That has been here through everything.
The years full of tears and cheers.
Maybe someday, a man will
Take my place.
But until that moment,
I am here.

I am trying to remember your tattoos
and I cannot.
You had a goddess on your calf,
but which one?
There are the vines that started on your ankles,
I think,
and wound up your strong legs,
traveled the curve of your hip,
to where?
Or did they begin on your arms?

****, I should know this.

I remember the heart on your ***,
the mermaid on your chest,
the rocket ship, somewhere.

I spent so many hours looking at these tattoos
I should know them as well as my own body.

I don't though.

The edges blur away
into skin
and elbows
and smells
and sounds
and feelings.

When I try to think of your body
I feel my hand tracing the curve of your back.

I smell amber and wine.

A fertility goddess on the shoulder,
laughing and tumbling
out of bed together in a
breathless heap.

Crime scenes, willow leaves on your neck.
Drawings by Luke, a rocket, a cat, and was there a heart in there?

I should know this.

I tried to memorize them on so many nights.

I should ******* know this.

The lilies on your arm, I can taste your stomach.
I tried to look back at the captured moments.
Never once did I think,
take pictures of all her tattoos,
one day you wont be able to remember them.

One day you will not be welcome to look or touch.

I can remember every curve of your body.
I remember every fold,
every scar.
I can feel your soft feet and your stubble covered legs
I would not want any other way.

But...I can't see you baby,
I can't see you.

How many times
did my hands roam your canvas?
How many times did I long to be the ink
in your skin?
I wanted you to
take my pain and make it yours,
carry me around with you,
as you.
I wanted you to blend our pain
and make it something beautiful.

I can hear your voice,
the one I thought you
used
just for me.

The stain of you covers me and I just want this taste out of my mouth.

I had to do it again.

I had to willingly
walk into the face of danger
and get rid of another stray
you let in.

My hand still hurts.

You are the most beautiful person I have ever known.

I have seen you beaten
and bruised by men
you have loved.
I have watched you struggle
for years with your own demons
of addiction, depression, poor choices
and lost loves.
I have seen your face
cry
far too many times.

Through the years
we have waxed and waned,
driven each other mad
with rage
and consoled each other
on our darkest days.
We have laughed,
cried,
screamed,
loved
and hated ourselves,
together and separate.  
I have left your side,
sometimes with thoughts of never returning,
of leaving behind all the pain
of our lives together and seeking my own pain,
only to return to you always.

We  got high together,
got clean together,
and have been everywhere in between.  
There were times
when you have been

so spun out

that you were unrecognizable
as a human
except
for your shape.
Other times you have been
the sole beacon of lucidity
in the dark chasm
of my
great
nothing.

Throughout all the beatings
we have suffered at the hands of others,
all the times some stray you let in robbed us,
all the dope deals gone bad,
the missed holidays,
the broken promises,
lies,
the good intentions gone bad,
through all of that your unshakable faith in
God
has always been a source of your inspiration to go on,
to move forward,
to keep smiling and more importantly,
to keep loving others.
Your willingness to help those
who are in need,
those
that have have hurt you,
and even
those
that you know are going to
hurt you,
has been both a source of
consternation and frustration
along with teaching me
how to love others,
how to have compassion.

You are the most beautiful person I have ever known.
I love you, Mother.