The devil is made of poison ivy but covered in flowers.

Dearest Reader,


My name is Margot Dylan, and I'm a pariah.

On the 16th of April, I told my mother that I was gay. She threw the clay mug that I made for her before she found out I was gay, against the floral, peeling wallpaper mess of a wall, in our kitchen. The decaffeinated peppermint green tea left a wonderful aroma that almost cleansed the room of the stench of 'lesbian'.

I met Dylan Dunham a few days after that, and, a few days later, she was the first girl that I ever loved.

Dylan wore a red flannel jacket, and was a butch and sometimes a *****-but I loved her even at her tomboy cruelest.

Dylan smoked a cigarette that smelled like lonerism, and she looked at me like she didn't care. My heart skipped a beat, as cliche as it sounds, whenever she would remove the cigarette from her mouth, exhale, and look at me as smoke traveled up her face. I looked at her and knew that she was everything that I wasn't, and everything that I wanted.

Dylan was Dianne, before and after school. Dylan was Dianne, who wore floral dresses and lipstick and who ditched her butch clothing in her locker before leaving. Dylan was Dianne, who was straight and who thought Tyler Wesson, from church, was cute. Dylan was Dianne, who had a short hair cut because of track and field, because she explained that she ran a faster time with less hair. Dylan was Dianne, who didn't associate with me before or after school because her parents knew that I was gay.

During school hours, the only thing Dylan did keep from Dianne was the lipstick. I was envious of the cigarette because of it's burgundy stains. We would stand in a stall, as she looked across from me, after each drag. She frequently offered her cigarettes, but I refused because I only let love **** me. If she ever brought alcohol, sometimes she'd kiss me. I told her that I loved her and she said, "I know."

The only thing that Dylan kept from me was my heart, before she started to smoke cigarettes in the bathroom with Annie Way.


I wish you the best moments so they can overcome the worst,

Margot Dylan

Mother, Father
I am six foot one and I can see over the trees
I can **** mountains and bury my bones in the soil
I am six foot one and I am just tall enough to see the truth
I can look over others but I can't look over myself
My shoulders bend like a bow, waiting to break
And I can feel it all. I can feel it all.

And to you,
May your temporary smile be a golden forever
And your heart existent with or without hope
Let your brain open doors your hands cannot touch
And your chest not collapse when the smoke is too much
To live and to love with you is the grandest adventure
And to cut myself on your edges, bleeds into itself
And to live in your heart, is the biggest place I've ever found
And to kiss you until my hands break and there is no sound

And to all of us,
We're a dark piece of trash
Ribs are a cage and holographic souls sing
Disenchanted by the human experience
We're pretentious and objectify everything

And to all of us,
We're all light, we're all eyes wondering wide
And we all shine bright, some of us cannot hide
May your hands slant, slowly slinging
towards the bells that are slowly ringing
and may you strike a chord in all of us.
May your existence be a temporary forever.

I almost regret the person I am, because my family cannot accept me f I were to truly show them who I am, or maybe they wouldn’t understand.
I am not like the conservative Christian mannequins that inhabit my home like dead birds in a disintegrating birds nest.
They are lifeless and I do not want to learn from them.
I believe I should walk around shirtless, that human bodies are beautiful and alive and somehow my admiration is look at as if I don’t cherish my body when it is opposite. Love is appreciation. I do not believe in hiding what I love.
I am the one found drunk in a ditch, an when I woke up in the hospital and pulled the IV out of my arm, they were all horrified at the blood spraying on my face and the white washed walls without putting into the consideration that I never consented for anything unknown to me to be pumped into my vines when I easily would have woken sober hours later.
I fly in my dreams and I think it must be what it feels like to do it in real life.
It’s raining outside, and I can’t decide whether id like to evaporate with the dew on tomorrow mornings sunflowers, or not wake up in the first place.

I think whether or not you're afraid of the dark says something about a person.
I think we've forgotten we're creatures.
I think we've forgotten we're magnificent.
My friend tripped on salvia once and he said he turned into the number 6.
Isn't that wild?
I always feel like I've been where I am before, in all situations.
I've had these conversations before.
I've seen this look in your eyes before.
I think most people are lost.
I think you're funny and I love you.