I felt so sad as I took a jar of paper stars from the top shelf of my school locker and held it close to my chest as I walked down the halls and I knew you were watching... Arden.

You just didn't do anything.

You knew what it was like to cling to life the same way you hung from death, like it was some kind of sick game. However, this is not a one player kind of match now, is it?

I powerwalked through the halls once, wanting so much to die. I had no plans, just a few ideas. You know, I didn't consider hanging myself in my mind to be a "plan to die" because I didn't actually write out the plans, I just thought about them a little too much.

I answered "No." when asked if I made plans to **** myself, because in my mind, I really didn't make plans.


When asked if I was homicidal, I don't remember what I said, but I remember not saying "no". I remember that I've imagined punishing people, but never killing people. I want to hold their lives in my grasp and hear them apologize like they actually mean it.

But I am too nice for that. Too Christian for that.

It takes a strong person to lift weights, but a stronger one to lift the personal weight off your own back.

I've thought about retiring my poetry career 10 years too early, not even making it to my mid-twenties before quitting simply because there were too many people too eager to get offended at my work.

I will not play innocent to your sickly made games.

I am no fool.

Although, I will not retire my poetry career just yet. Because every time I feel the urge to quit, I am here at 3:22am writing long strings of poetry.

Arden's gonna have a fricken sleeve of tattoos.
Alex is gonna have pain.
Baer is gonna have me taking care of her sister.

But who really cares about that? Because Arden's gonna have something.

Arden has friends,

education,
teachers,
a job,
a life.

Arden's gonna have love.

Arden's gonna have ******' love.


Alex is not going to beg for my jaw unhinged from all the fighting.
Alex will not bend.
No sir.


Baer has hired me as the worlds worst babysitter, and her sister, only a few years younger than I already holds me to a higher standard than most.

But Arden has more to life than me.

There's no comparison.

I too, want to die when I'm not staying up this late to escape my thanatophobia.

I will not live to see Arden's graduation.

But I will live to see the hurricane that comes after it.

I don't feel special Baer.

But no one really needs to know that.

oh god, oh god! that dump felt: just about as good as a zeppelin droping bombs over london... i managed to feel a vindaloo up my **** at the end of it! magic.

ever heard of huskies?
                                                                             no?
        my godmother is a huskie...
she's a doctor, she sometimes didn't shave
her legs: or that was my initial bewilderment
when i was playing video games
i.e. *porsche challenge on PS1...
and that's donkey's years ago...
        but she was a huskie...
                       she was a woman with a deep
voice...
                  but this is in another culture
and i'm sitting here, watching western culture
and thinking: well **** me! no problem
with the genital removals...
   but who the **** is going to reconstruct your
jaw-line?
                you can't fake a femenine jaw
from a man's jaw... nor the hands...
     that's why i sometimes think my **** is
tiny... but then i can hold a basketball in one hand,
that means: pick it up with one hand...
   that's why i always said... the sexiest part
of a woman's body? her hand(s).
           i can't believe i'm going to name these
people, but given my godmother's husky voice
i think i should... on a matter of principle:
and yeah, i sometimes speak like i've been castrated,
even though i smoke tobacco my voice should
be deep... all the time... i sometimes resonate:
like an angel... when i'm being pretty pretty, nice;
   how the **** are you going to reconstruct
the jaw so that i don't think you are?
                      self-conscious about your larynx?
that's not even sad, that's prompt for: me being
inquisitive... given my godmother (the doctor)
who spoke like she spoke...
                                 em... chloe arden?
    what the **** is this huskie playing at?
               blaire white... oh 'ere we go, another huskie...
i'm not laughing... you look into those eyes
and you know something is a "tad" bit iffy...
            i get it... you think you sound like a "man"
sometimes... and i get it: i sometimes sound like
i've been licked in the ***** by a karate kick...
    and that has happened to me one...
            i was doing this course in some specific
interest area... and i was signalled out
  because i wasn't shouting when i was moving forward
doing kick! chop! kick! chop! ha! ya(h)!
                    sensai was away, and this white geek
took over the class... he said: you have to shout
while moving! i was like: no...
           what the hell does he do? kicks me in the *****...
clap clap... well done you ******* ******.
          you don't do that sort of thing in boxing
for ****'s sake... that's a no go zone...
             if he even gained a black belt in the art...
he'd be excomunnicated there and then...
                             you a ******* woman or something?
*****.
                 yeah, i realised that, i have this delay
button... something happened to me 15 years ago
and i'm only writing about it now... it's a bit like Proust
on stereoids... i'm not gay enough to remember
eating: that "special" macaroon.
   like i said:
         these girls are huskies...
                         i know because my godmother
is a husky...
                               it's self-consciousness in the extreme...
get kicked in the ***** and you'll start wearing
post- / anti- transgender spectacles...
        no matter what you tell me... that jaw line and
those plump cheeks with the missing cheek bones
that's characteristic of women... mmm...
             you have a better magic trick? 'cos'
this one isn't working on me (ref. the two stated examples);
o.k., and my godmother.