You don’t need to try so hard.
You can wear the clothes you want.
Do whatever you please,
Express yourself the way you know how.
You can wear those heels
Just because you love them.
Your true friends will accept you
And all your little quirks.
It’s time to let it go,
Let go of all your fears of judgement.
Stop caring what people think of you,
It’s none of your business anyways.
You are who are for a reason.
You’re crazy, eclectic,
A miss independent and a little rebellious.
You like to defy the norms of society
So why aren’t you doing it?
Let go of all those rules and make your own.
You’ve always stood for the outcasts,
Paving your own path,
Cutting the trees blocking your way.
Why care now about fitting in
When you’re a shining gem?
You were born to lead, to conquer.
This is your destiny, you’ve always worn
Your individuality just like a badge.
Don’t become submissive,
Stop looking for approval,
You won’t find it anywhere
But inside of yourself.
It’s the self-acceptance that comes first,
There’s no better friend than you.
Go on, look in the mirror.
Remember, you better like who you are,
That is the person you’ll be stuck with
For the rest of your life.
Enjoy all the strangeness,
All the weird parts of your personality.
There’s no refunds, no exchanges.
You are who you are and that
Is perfection; no matter what anyone says.
Accept who you are now,
Accept all the growth to come.
You can accomplish even your
Wildest dreams, those shooting stars.
It’s time to just be,
Time to stop leaning on societies
Ideals and march on out
With head held up high.
Self acceptance is all you need.

"for thirteen dollars
ill tear apart
1 big Texan phone book

no deal if raining
. no refunds.
you must provide
the materials"

"tear apart
my phonebook
for twelve dollars"
says man

"exit the area"
I repeatedly bellow
twelve dollars is chump change
I'm better than that

im like a siren
I can't stop screaming
at this man
his face is turning purple
he's choking from fear
I continue
it is nice to me

I glare him in the eyebalks
"HOPE YOU LIKE YOUR
BIG TEXAN PHONE BOOK
SAT UPON FOR MILENNIA"
I SCOFF as I sit upon it

he stands
"that phonebook ain't yours feller"
i am aghast
he snatches it from me
and shoots me in the gut

i lay in the dirt
writhing in pain
he steps near my head
and leans down to whisper
calmly in my ear

"no refunds"
he stomps on my face
and thus ends my reign
as king of ripping
big Texan phonebooks
into two smooth halves
for thirteen dollars

You say, "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”
but I say surely something

must taste nicer than the burning acid
being forced back up your throat.

Why not hug people instead of
toilet bowls? At least they’ll hug back.

Except Mia is your only friend now.
And her cousin, Ana, of course.

And I understand that you never
wanted to die, but this is a thousand ton truck

hurtling towards the edge of a cliff and
Ana took the wheel a long time ago.

There is no strength in this: in you, in a
fear of calories. Even your bones creak

as your muscles sigh with exhaustion -
for this, is not a war you're winning.

This is a battle with only one contender
and I will not be the one to disarm you.

That's your job and it always has been. I know
you only wanted to be beautiful

like all those stars in the magazines
you saved under a file titled ‘thinspo’

but the only stars you ever saw were in
your eyes from the dizziness

and to tell you the truth, you are not pretty.
For there is nothing “pretty”

about the layer of fuzz your body grew
to protect itself from the big bad wolf

when really, the only growl was coming
from inside your stomach.

Or how your little sister is afraid to touch,
let alone hug you, in fear of snapping you in two.

For there is no glamour in having to
remove clumps of hair out of the plughole

at least six times whilst having a shower,
just to let the water run down.

Or that one time you "accidentally”
took too many laxatives. Messy.

There is nothing admirable about the way
you sat shivering on your bed

at night instead of kissing boys,
or dancing, or eating ice cream.

There is nothing to be marvelled at
in dying.

This, is not a life to be lived.
God, this isn't even a life.

This is being a slave to your own body,

a walking zombie, a ghost stuck
between two sides.

You are not alive.

But it was all still worth it, right?
Slowly killing yourself from the inside out.

A small price to pay for perfection,
a bargain for a broken mirror;

for a half-written book
with 97 blank pages,

a camera
that only captures in black and white,

a clock
with frozen hands.

And most importantly, for a peace of mind
you never received.

No refunds.

.
1. It's time to retreat
    To call off the war, to turn in the trumpets,
    To shut off our hearing aids to those who are bullet-riddled with Ritalin.

2. Leave passion at the door
    The coat rack is missing, but that's what people are for,
    Push them back into the closets with your woolen wares and see.

3. Check in your soul with the desk clerk
    The bellhop promises to bring it up soon, but the elevator is out of order.
    His trolly's wheels were stolen and the stairs are still on fire.

    Sorry.
    No refunds.

4. Lock all the doors and tip your cows
    You're too tipsy for another round of room service anyways and the
    police are planning a raid.
    Tell the too young girls with the too old eyes the time has come to go and
    stitch your innocence back on.

5. Check your bedstand for a bible and a razor
    Ignore the ***** stains; the key to salvation was paid in sin.
    Put yourself on a pension plan because I hear the devil's running a good
    racket.

    Sorry.
    No refunds.

6. Trash this place on Yelp. Trash this place in person.
    The devil is hiding in the woodwork and there's a people zoo of women
    dancing on the yellowed wallpaper.
    The carpet smells like Daddy's cigarettes and Mommy's drunken spit-up.

7. w̶r̶i̶t̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶m̶e̶s̶s̶a̶g̶e̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶m̶i̶r̶r̶o̶r̶
    What a proud song:
    Here's to the the nihilists, here's to the named,
    Here's a vague attempt to mark the world in meaning.

8. Break the mirror instead

Sorry.
No refunds.

But they offer complimentary mints.

There are no refunds,
   There are no exchanges, and
         There are no returns when it comes to love.

The echoes of her screams
Reverberate throughout my head
As the most untender slap across the face
Lulls me to sleep.
Then morning comes
And my wrists have become tense
With his fingered bracelets
As I try to break free.
Clenched teeth appear like jail bars before me
And it would take the reverse of all the guilt
I can muster
To knock them down.
I don't have that.
I have plenty of bystanders
All eagerly entertained by someone else's misery.
Heck, I manage to entertain myself
With my masochistic tendencies.
Welcome to the show, my friends.
I gather it will be worth your time.

Thank you for your purchase.*

I recently bought a computer,
complete with:

Poorly labeled documents, (Untitled53.jpg).
Terms and conditions; a ten-second scroll-through, mind you.
Pre-accepted, pre-agreed.
A clutter of programs I (supposedly) need,
and a firewall,
to keep your virus
out of my heart.

Sadly, however,
this model lacks a *restart.

A Four day concert, created by Roberts, Rosenman,  Kornfeld, and Lang
Was originally supposed be a three-day  music festival, and up it sprang

But the citizens of citizens of Wallkill, N.Y. did not want their nice quiet town filled
With drugged up hippies that would overrun, and with this idea they were not thrilled

With many battles and protests, Wallkill passed a law on July 2, 1969 banning
The would be concert from going forward leaving the town quite less enchanting

Almost not getting off the ground, hippies all over demanding refunds for their tickets
Stepping forward, Max Yasgur offered his 600-acre dairy farm so no one would picket

The new location for the Woodstock Festival would be Bethel, New York
No one from the other town would not have complaints or come uncorked

Despite the many problems of people threatening to quit
Woodstock got off the ground despite things still being chit

This concert was poorly planned with two major setbacks, as news spread that it was free
There were congestion of cars that policeman had to turn away, for as far as one could see

Organizers lost huge amounts of money while hippies walked through gates without paying
But it was estimated that 500,000 people made it to the concert and they came in swaying

The music seemed to play non-stop as people sat and listened and some would play
It was very muddy from all the rain of what it did from much of the concert everyday

Listening to greats such as Creedence Clearwater Revival, Santana, Jimi Hendrix, Sweetwater
Can’t forget, Grateful Dead, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Jefferson Airplane and Ten Years After

The concert ended and picking up the pieces began, that wasn't just the trash that was left behind
It was the lawsuits that many filed against the organizers since beginning to end put many in a bind

The greatest music festival in history later put to a movie that is divine
Something that will forever be talked about from the summer of 1969

Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved

i am cheap logic
bought from a man on the side of the street
who says it's the real stuff, nothing but the best
and i guess you believed him, i guess optimism ran in your veins that day
and i should be glad, really
except you've been tricked, and the man
walks away laughing with your petty change in his pocket
glancing back to grin at your smiling face
as you slip your arm around my waist
and i pretend to be worth it

dress me up, because i'm tired of painting myself
i just wanna hear your description
i like it better than mine
take me out, at least as far as the road
to show me why i usually stay at home

i am a solid shell
this logic has been welded into my surface
and i make sense, just ask anyone
i am a rock, i am an unmoving blanket
i am a hand to hold, a smile to be reflected
i am a solid shell
within which the logic falls apart

too bad wandering gypsies
don't give refunds, eh?
you'll never track him down

be my computer genius, crack this code
make me logic from spinning numbers
make me make sense
make me make sense
make me make sense

keep the optimism running in your veins
i like you that way

maybe-

     if you write

your feelings down

      and threw them away,

they would...

       go away too ?

    don't allow-

       lingering,
       longing,

consume you anymore.

         because

    time-

          is not

refundable but,

           hearts apparently are

     when you return

            your heart,

time ignores the loss

       time will always win

and...

          never look back

    you shouldn't either

I think a lot about calling out sick.
Not so much for a cold, or an upset stomach
Not even a broken bone, no
I wish I could call out sick and say
"Hey, boss, I'm sorry, I can't come in today
I'm hallucinating  that the foliating leaves
Are leaves burning our world to the ground
I can't go outside or I'll burn"
And then he'd say to me
"Yeah, Mikey, no problem, hopefully someone puts those fires out for ya"
And I'd close all my blinds and keep all my lights off and hide under my blanket
And it would be okay
Or maybe I'd call in and say
"There are toxic germs slithering and trying to slide their way into my pores"
To which he'd tell me "We've all been there, take care of that ****, man"
And I'd spend four hours racking up my hot water bill in a boiling hot shower
That feels more like if I'd gone outside and felt the burning leaves land on my body
Or maybe I'd say to him
"Every single nightmare and demon from my past is screaming in my head
So loudly that I cannot hear a single thing in this room,
I don't even hear myself speaking to you right now, sir"
To which, I have no idea what he'd have be cause I couldn't hear it
But realistically, I would lose my job so fast, that,
Much like in a cartoon, when they run and kick up a dust cloud behind them
You'd see nothing that was there before, just the smoke
But tell me, if so many people call out sick because they decided to drink their demons away
Why can't I call in sick because of my demons?
Why is a hangover a good enough reason to call out
But locking yourself away from any and all pill bottles or sharp objects
Because you're too depressed to roll over and kiss your girlfriend goodbye
Before she leaves for work not good enough?
Why are we afraid to talk about mental illness, but Ben Affleck's divorce is all over magazine covers?
Why do we try to cover up what is very clearly a very real problem in this country
No, instead we talk about Caitlyn Jenner
Instead, we talk about Jennifer Lawrence, and her leaked naked pictures
Instead, we have passionate debates about the color of a dress
But we can't admit that the voices in our heads, or the panic in our hearts, or the depression in our souls, or the spinning in our minds, or the screaming in our ears are real
The only thing worse than feeling all of this
Is being too ashamed or too afraind to talk about it
We bury it like it's any old newspaper
When we should treat it like our mortgage papers
Or our tax refunds
We must stop shaming, or this generation is gonna be dead before they even get a chance
Yeah, I think a lot about calling out sick
And saying "I apparently spent all night on the bathroom floor having a panic
Because I woke up here with no memory, and my head is spinning and my body aches
My hands can't move from the stiffness of slamming them into the floor all night
My eye is swollen shut from when I fell to the floor and smacked it off the sink"
And he'd tell me "Put some ice on that ****, Mikey. I'll see ya tomorrow."