Sitting in class
In front of the blank white math test I was in the process of failing
That I had skipped first period to study for
And instead just smoked my final final cigarette
I had a grand realization
I'm an idiot
I don't know how I hadn't realized it before
Between breaking my new phone to try and prove to my friends it was unbreakable
And sitting on my roof cardboard wings duck taped to my arms
With plastic shopping bag parachutes strung about my neck
Or when I asked I girl I hardly knew to a dance I hardly wanted to go to
Or at the dance, when I ditched her to laugh at the kid barfing in a stall
From the *** cookie he had just eaten
Honest mistake, I did it my first time, too
Eating acid turned out fine, though
Mushrooms, almost made me **** downtown
But hey, Shiva's in the walls
I love an audience
And I know they love my cusses
Once I put my arm around the wrong date
No just kidding,

I don't date

On vacation, I got stabbed between my small toe and the next
With a pencil
Now I'm afraid of wearing flip flops
I biked over the same patch of broken glass in the street
Three days in a row before I finally got a flat
I put duct tape on the frame of my new bike,
It looked cool,
And cutting it off with a kitchen knife
I sliced my wrist and nicked a tendon
Shot myself in the thigh with a BB gun
To prove it didn't hurt to people that didn't care
Twice
Shot my neighbor, too
I told her parents it was an accident
Statistically plausible,
but not this time
Got in a fight with my best friend
And made a Facebook status about how boring it was being suspended
Broke a sprinkler when I was bored
Blamed it on raccoons
It didn't work, the neighbors had caught on to me
Love poems don't come easy
Which is weird,
They're always better when no one loves you back
So I have a surplus
And apparently they say,
Giving that stuff away for free
Is a bit of a crime
Like trying not to rip my already ripped pants
or
Putting a sticker on my cello I couldn't peel off
Climbing over barbed wire to get high
by the octopus tree
I should of checked the penal code
Hiking at night is a crime
Ranger D. Heimer wanted me to tell you
It's okay, he's an idiot, too
September is not the eighth month
The handwriting on the citation isn't half bad, though
In the last three months,
I've had four flats on my bike
I haven't learned yet
The wheel still sitting in the hallway
I lost the repair kit
You think it it would of sunk in before
I failed my fifth math test in a row
I went to a party,
And I didn't do blow
Because I was tripping too hard
The white line looked too weird,
And my nose was still burning from the last line.
I dropped my ipod in the toilet
Then I dropped my dad's, too
Talked to gutter punks
(that's not the stupid part)
And shared a pipe with the sickest of the trio
Yeah, I'm sick now
Got angry at my mom,
But of course, I'm an angsty teen,
Decided to bike to the top of the greatest little hill around
And gave up three fourths of the way there
At least I gave one of my friends the chance to see me in that state,
His house was on the way,
And they say that bliss comes in two ways,
In ignorance or in enlightenment
That's too many choices for me
So instead I elected myself martyr
And grew my hair out to look like Jesus Christ
But now I just look like Charles Manson
I was going to do no-shave November
But I started too early
And ended even earlier
And that was before I realized I couldn't grow a beard
Fool me once, shame on you
Fool me twice, shame on me
Fool me thrice, and the fourths for free,
I make my own omens,
Then happily misread them.
So it might be starting to sink in,
But I don't think it matters much
Being stupid is a **** good time
Next Saturday, you're all invited.

You have three tattoos. Full lips and good strong hands.
You have spots on your nose that I could never fully count.
You have a scar on your right arm, from that hot iron that one time.
The first time you pulled off your shirt, I traced the line with my fingers and fell in love.
You are so much more, from living from that moment to this one.
You always seem to apologise for the little mistakes we make.  
Your body is a map I know every inch of and if anyone else were to kiss me, all they would taste is your name.

l.m

Tears are strange things,
Related to the ocean,
Salty, wet, leaving tracks from your eyes,
To as far as you let them run,
Before you wipe them away.

But there are many types of tears,
Oh, you didn't know?
Let me guess,
You thought,
"Oh a weeping and a crying,
Are all the same thing!"

I tell you now,
There are many types of tears,
The tears of a widow,
Or those extremely loud ones,
From the small, innocent eyes of a babe.

From orphan,
Crying himself to sleep at night,
The adopted child,
Confused.

From the disappointed mother and father,
Knowing their son or daughter,
Drowning in ignorance and not even caring.
Do they not know their selfishness,
Causes such woe from their parents?

Or the tears running black with makeup,
Down, falling across a broken heart,
And falling,
Shattered on the ground.
As if, those tears some how compensated,
His forever,
That ended much too soon.

And still the tears that fall into the casket,
Or into the grass beside the gravestone,
Those tears send flooding with them,
Memories,
Oh the memories,
All rush at once from the greiver's eyes.

Tears are a strange thing,
Don't you know?