she says -
if i carve your name onto my ribcage in the morning before the sun comes up will it come true? will it **** you this time?
maybe ill lie down so that you can pick me apart,
fingernails breaking on my iron skin
would you like that?

i am sexually attracted to pencils.

Toss me into the ocean (my boat already capsized, then turtled. ****, what a summer.)

Aim a gun at my head (once, there was a guy who robbed some store with an unidentified weapon, and he lived on our street, and hid in my yard, and men with guns were everywhere looking for him.)

Run your knife down my skin (I'm a recovering cutter.)

Take the people I love away from me ( SIX MONTHS OLD AND HE'S DEAD)

Break a promise (he never came back; he never visited)

Drug me (they tossed pills at me to make me numb, make me happy, keep me sane)

Cram me into the confines of your basement (I layed perfectly still for about an hour to see if my brain was o.k.)

Bury me alive (when I was little my mom, and my brother, and me would horse around and I would end up under too many blankets and pillows and I couldn't breathe)

**** me (I almost did it myself.)

Do your worst- I've done mine.

r.c.

I still dream of you sometimes,
the same way I did before,
you choking me
and I turning
the color blue.
I dream it in 3rd person,
that hasn't changed at all either.
The cheap mattress,
dusty floor tiles,
and the belt grasped
tightly in your slightly small
hands, coiling it like a boa,
the fan spinning,
my head spinning,
all things spinning,
you strangling me, wickedly
smiling, laughing, you on me,
then I wake up,
no one is there,
but I'm still hard.

From always have my story books ever spoke,
urging me to live life with one phrase;
Memento Mori, a simple Latin phrase I had known,
from the beginning of my universe that I posses,
to the society I once slept upon, have I ever known,
that the sky is always sapphire,
the grass is always emerald,
and the blood is ONLY but ruby.

Whereas my storybooks told me, Memento Mori,
I will eventually whither away like the plants I was reluctant to plant,
to watch them die away,
so I could grasp it's corpse, and crush it's ashy substance.
I grin at that notion,
the concept of me having power, to crush,
my homicidal grin, illuminating malicious vibes,
only to feel guilty for I am enjoy their pain.

Although my storybooks, had always said Memento Mori,
they were books of a hero to zero, a man of a demon,
they had always spoken to me, their lustful eyes,
entrancing me from an angel's call, and telling me the phrase;
tu fui ego eris
"As you are, I was; as I am, so you shall also be"
They were right, for I had sinned like the killers in my book,
just like them, and they were just like me,
and we both could not avoid death, just as out gravestones had said.

I had refused to accept Memento Mori,
I refused to acknowledge the emerald that I had stood on, what it was I could never,
the sapphire I had not known, in the heavens only my piping plover knew,
and the ruby, has I always felt, warm, as it was around my feet,
only to be purified, and realize no one else was different.

We all murdered our complexities.

You have to fight for everything, even yourself.
Nothing was ever built for weak people.
But you are precious.
You are all the things I never believed in but happened anyway.
You are all the last thoughts of the last moments of someone's life. All I ask is that you always find your way home like you lose everything except for this.
Remember that wind is a language, like everything else, and every time you meet a new person you are discovering how to believe in people. And where we live, there is a lot of wind.
So in effect, I believe War is another way of saying I love something so much that I can't stop breaking whatever makes it sad.
And where we live, there is a lot of war.  
And courage is the form we take when we become someone else's second chance.
Remember that Earth is cold, that the world is a scary place to live, but ask yourself what the world is made of.
We all bleed the same amount, and we forget that if you ask for freedom then you have already lost it.
That sometimes running and leaving and going does not always take you somewhere else, and that in order to keep things, sometimes we have to lose them.