My king died naked
a common criminals death
Crucified
.
And we pray to die a good death
He will not bestow
what cannot be endured

There she goes
like a barred moon,
her scarf flying like a cloud,
diamonds in eyes,
golden tinge in the hair,
soft footfalls on the rough stones.
don't throw jibes,
don't shoot teasing,
don't ***** her chastity,
a single scratch is a profound wound.
you will lose a sister,
a beautiful wife,
a loving and caring mother,
nature doesn't need you.

There’s this beautiful girl at my school
And she smokes a pack a week

And she’s pregnant


She’s got beautiful eyes and that’s all I can see
Her baby will have beautiful eyes too.

And she moans out loud in the lunchroom, “man, I’m going to be so fat in a few months.”


And I swear to god that whenever I see her,
I want to lift up her shirt
and press my cheek against the life beating inside her
and hope that it soaks into my pores
So I can feel something as real as that.

But when I have a baby girl someday
I will love her
Like I love the taste of a grapefruit on hot summer days
I will love her like every ****** I have ever had
I will love her like every prayer I have ever whispered in my car
I will love her like how I miss my dad sometimes

And my baby girl will know that I love her because when I put her on one of those horses on the carousel, I will kiss her hand every time she comes back around to me
and I’ll miss her every second she’s away

And I’m going to teach her so much more than her daddy ever could.



My baby girl’s gonna learn that everybody’s going to die someday
So she should try to meet everyone as soon as possible.

And I’m gonna make sure she never has *** with a person she doesn’t love
But I’m gonna make sure she falls in love every day.


I’ll teach my baby girl to love the way I’ll love her
and then

I’ll love her more every day
until I die or
until I forget whose hands are attached to my wrists.
But I'm sure I’ll remember
when she holds them.

when* did this happen again?
when did i start staying awake at night,
stuck inside my own thoughts?
when did i turn back into this person?
what happened to me?
what can i do?
who do i turn to?
no one
who can figure me out, if i can't?
no one
why
why does this keep happening.
why am i writing these words that no one will see,
no one will care.
nothing will change.
so,
how do i proceed?





with caution.
scratch that.
throw caution to the wind.

my writing seems to only come easily,
when i'm writing things i want to say to you,
but i can't.
right now i'm sitting here thinking about all the things from you
that get caught up in the thickets of my mind
like a nagging piece of a splinter that can't seem to get out of my palm.
the pain, although less than it would be if the whole splinter had stuck,
is still noticeable if i poke it, **** it, try to find it again,
pin point exactly where i have to press to make it hurt.
and once i've found that spot,
i keep pressing.
not because i like the way it feels,
but it's comforting, to know that i know what makes it hurt.
it's comforting, to know that it's still there, a constant reminder that the splinter was never fully removed.
it seems cliche,
to say that i miss you, but not who you are now.
i miss who you used to be.
the person who wrote me word by word, line by line, letter by letter,
their entire thought process..
where is she now?
gone.
i think about you,
and that letter you wrote.
"do deep people just conform the shallow way of thinking?"
you did.
did i?
i suppose that's something that we'll never know.
so it will keep nagging me,
bothering me,
like that small piece of splinter,
until i find away to get it out.
or until it gets infected and eventually kills me.
whichever comes first.