Simplest of names,
So plain, But how I love to say it
A promise for warmth in igloo block prison eyes
And tone of Daria,
just whelmed enough to respond
A chance of sarcasm is air
Venom in plain daylight.

Plain tone.
Plain mood.
Plain old abuse.
And most would take it from her.
As she would and certainly has taken it from us.

Petit feminine fighter with no haymakers or KO records.
****** face, that rested war and peace between chin and brow.
Baroness of motherhood or is it the queen of hearts and depression?

Stars and music always forever
Anchor tattoos with a key to a heart, now a predator.
Forever enchanted by the la-de-dah and bleeding heart affairs
A savior in no motion or fashion but I dare not call you hypothetical

But a standard broad, beauty and-
So shameless I celebrate seeing you, awkward and so ****
Cleopatra, to be a bit dramatic-
Yes Cleo-mantra, I collectively disintegrate all charm and physical form
And you,  unfazed or unimpressed with either detail of romance

My friend, compromised by style and NO amusement.
There is much more to you than ****** faces and belittling arguments.
There is more to you then practicing soapbox rants in your kitchen.
There is more to you than a shallow mothers intoxications and material.
There is more to you than the new hair dye or the wigs you collect.

The things you store in the boxes cluttering your room with everything not in those boxes
The clothes on your floor, decorations from your teenaged 3rd or 4th personality.
The smell of perfume and coffee and more perfume all over,
stuck to papers, next to wine bottles, borrowed and never returned books, unfinished snacks,
used paper towels, lipstick stained mugs and glasses, your sons toy I stepped on 4 times,
pictures of gone lovers and notes, your license; now found again after the second time ordering a new one.
And…it's expired,
Then finally under the aftermath of years, doubt, clutter, your cell phone vibrating in the fray of sheets.

"found it."

Least we forget that, as we forgot we are both in this room together.
You are so much more than this mess I picked up for you countless times
And though I complain I will pick it up for you and not ask your permission
I won't scold you, I can only exhale failure and help.

Staring blankly into your screen discussing all genres of worldly horror and ways to divert.
Such plans and opinions but no federal funding!
We would pay homage to girl power and the early 90's and call her G.I. Jayne-
(Or not cause she doesn’t have that kind of sense of humor.)
But imagine a solider, a true solider of the meek.
That is theoretically, G.I. Jayne.
Has all of our best interest at hearts, our hero.
Songs of children are said to give her strength-
(She really doesn't like this kind of humor, I must move on.)

My friend truly distressed by the world she can't control from her tiny screen.
I place all comfort I can to her and understandably rejected like a stranger making rounds.
No trust comes from her nowadays, None for me at least. I can't speak for all.
I try to climb over the steep absurdity, alluding to her self-mutilation and task this is
but not going as far as just telling her this is ******* killing me.

I have no lesser or sophisticated words.
I'm dying every time we reach these altitudes.
Fingers and my tone raising at every disagreement .
How you can break me down to my atomic core and decimate miles of friendship.
My closest star in the sky, use to bring me morning tea, flowers and maternity
We now stand in quasar as our space and stardust find mass in thousands of millions of years in development
For me to be sent to the loony bin and you to prison like our heroes from Clinton to Lazaretto.

icarus lays in his bed now,
an advanced placement scholar with distinction, high honors,
(his name embossed in pearly white letters on posterboard like a movie star)
drunker than he's ever been,
waiting to pass out under the gentle caress of the full moon.

who would have thought
the boy destined to scrape the sky on golden wings
would be passed out on his bedspread like a delinquent?
(it's the quiet ones you gotta watch out for,
the ones who retreat to their silent cave to descend into a fuzz of various intoxications.)
meanwhile, the dean of admissions preaches abstinence
from liquor, grass, and hazy nights.
after all, the true, distinguished, scholarly scholars
would never partake in such acts.

icarus dry heaves into his pillow,
knowing he'll regret going into his advanced calculus test
with the mother of all hangovers.

I've been in a love a time or another, I have sisters & brothers, a father & a mother.
I've called disguised enemies bestfriends & believed they cared for me.
I've been in every situation regarding the complexities of a human relationship, & its dreadful rollercoaster of emotional intoxications.
I've had my highs & I've gotten beat down by the blows life rained on me.
I've let disappointments & betrayals plague me & depress me.
I've kept a closed mouth through the majority of my mistreatments, passive & submissive to all the things that have marred me.
I have my own testimonial story, & I'm strong enough today to keep it from destroying me.
The me I am today, can say " I understand the difference between speaking up to save my soul, & keeping quit to keep the pain inside.
The difference in walking away for the better & clinging to the wishful hope that it will get better.
The strength to keep quiet when necessary & speak loud & proudly for in the things I believe. "
In ever intricate situation I have risen.
My strength, not to be mistaken or underestimated.
I am a savior, & I will continue to do so.
No soul on earth would like to see me happy, in the way the soul I harbour inside myself does.
My trials & tribulations, are the best part of me.
Keep me or leave, I will always be me.

I.  You know I resent you for a thousand things,
like how she and I don’t talk anymore.  But most
of all because you didn’t love me.  Like how you
made everything seem so simple when it wasn’t.  
But most of all because you fooled me
completely.  I resent you for a thousand things,
but I still don’t know what I’ll say when you decide
to come back.  You’ll come back.

II.  Twisting my thoughts around you has
become so simple to do, become a habit.  
Twisting them around you, through you,
drilling into your skin.  But it gets harder and
harder to hollow you out like I would before,
making you into an empty shell that I was much
less afraid of.  I love this ball and chain; Stockholm
syndrome has never been this fun before.

III.  And you’re an entity that doesn’t have a
name.  A mix of so many spirits that excites me
in a way I didn’t know something could.  You’re
a list of intoxications that renders me so
readable it’s dangerous.  I slur my words and
you take my hand like I’d never been so
articulate and charming.

I think i want to do something good to you
Something nice
something to show i care
I think i may even say i love you
I never meant it
i guess that is just ok
But do not be restrained
i am actually quite good
I may be super toxic
But i am addictive too
My soul means no real harm
my intentions are real pure
My love is never ending
there is nothing it can't cure
My senseless intoxications
Are just part of a the journey you may embark
Don't be afraid to show your insides
I can't promise i don't bite

HOW DARE YOU YOU *******
WHO ARE YOU TO HAVE FEELINGS

He likes to pull out his heart from time time to time
He looks at it and weeps as it beats silent and the world turns
He kicks me when I'm down leaving calico purple patches
He tries to rip apart the one who brought him here
But for us both he mostly settles for the words
He doesn't care until we wrestle his heart out of him
Then he ******* cries like he's sensitive

GROW THE HELL UP
THE REST OF US HAVE

The Trial Run is trying to separate herself from the intoxications
brought by men but stumbles down the sidewalk home...
I stopped pounding my words into his back because
he doesn't have time to be broken by me anymore...
The Elder creates his faux world because
everyone but me has exiled him out of the real one...
The Proper splits and I watch it happen to him as it happened to me,
still happens, angels and demons we hide inside...
The Child runs after the **** ups seeing rainbows
but devoid of color because he think's that's what age means...

I want to leave you on a better note, with kinder vibes and more hope in mind than what I last wrote
destitution is not inherent vulnerability, ingenuity thrives behind the lines of poverty
good will can be chipped away by promises that turn predatory
you'll get out someday, pay dues by coping, thickened skin quick to kick holes in drywall fighting with your next of kin
being white trash, man, I was comfortable in pain before everything I owned was reduced to ash and swept into a can

I was nothing before I let go of the idea that my materials were my value
and I was never happier with everything I have and nobody to share it with
than I was with a notebook and a pen and nobody who gave a ****
there's no doubt about my hypocrisy, humans, I love you and can't live without you
but step to my left brain and my introspective is anesthetic, I don't care and hate you
trying retain a positive mentality while remaining true
to this retrospection, filtered vision through brutality and cynical objectivity
how can I look at the world any different if I refuse to view myself with honesty?

Classism, like a caste system, stay in your place, predestined and determined from birth, endogamy
enforced in strange ways when it's not a native part of society, tilted thinking, you can buy a gun it's easy
catching heat is simpler than getting a degree, intoxications and temptations wait more readily than self-improving opportunity
it is a wheel that takes a different form, oppressing a variety of races and religions, sexualities and incomes in communities
I don't know who I am to point a finger anymore when I have stood in an open door and let myself be crushed by anxiety
depression, insomnia, self-destructive tendencies that I wore like both sleeves, validation, sure, it feels like one bad dream ended and no one believes
if not for the entirety of the building that collapsed on my classless ***, I don't think my own conscience would relent on finding me guilty to give me a pass, shut in and shut out so fast the doorframe was still standing when the force blew back wind in my face from the ferocity

All I'm trying to say in my roundabout way is
I carry names attached to emotional scars, but no grudges, no hatred
the roads I've gone down, the bridges I burn when I cross I have no need or desire to retread
I feel older for all the life I haven't lived, and sadly grateful to still be alive
meaning, purpose and balance find their own way whether or not we strive
if I could only give one thing to all people right now, speak one word, one tone
in a way that it could be felt, understood, absorbed and known
I would not give you respect, which can lead to love,
nor would I give you love; I would give you peace.