There’s a reason I don’t smoke
or get high
or get low
or drink.

Don’t I seem ****** up enough to you?

i stopped doing drugs because you were the only thing that made me high
now we're just fiction
your mouth is stained on my cheeks, still echoed with a sad goodbye
we're out with the garbage you so angrily tossed
and you're drinking wine
and i'm still lost

some boy once told me
when we were 16
"the way i see it, it's either you or the drugs— and i know which one i've chosen"
when i remembered that,
i laughed—
because it's funny
how three years
can change you.
it's funny, too
because when i laughed
i blew
the line away.

I want to scrape off my skin
Just to tear the words
That your tongue had left for me.

I want to scrape my skin
Just to forget the parts of my body
Where your lips had once lingered.

Paint my body in scarlet
And color me with purple bruise
I want to drown in you.

I say “tomato”
You say “toe-mah-toe”
I say “I want to pierce my nose”
You say “don’t you dare scare that ivory skin”
I say “ I want to be a poet”
You say “but that doesn’t make much income”
I say “I am never having a baby”
You say “you’ll meet a nice man, settle down, and change your mind”
I wear this silver pentacle
Around my throat like a noose
String me up and hang me
Like my sisters from Salem
Condemn me because I don’t fit
In the box labeled “Christian” on your questionnaire
Call me a ****** for finding the beauty in another woman’s curve
Brand me a ***** just for existing
Pull at my heartstrings
Like a puppeteer
Guide my every movement
Cut out my vocal cords and replace them with yours
After all, you know best right
If I dye my hair a color that isn’t
Blonde, black, or brunette
I’ll never land a job
If I don’t quit with this feminist ****
No man will ever want me
You’re only looking out for me right
If you know so much about me
Tell me who I am
Tell me how I felt when I was thirteen
And stealing my brother’s straightedge
To carve Jack-O-Lantern faces into my upper thighs
Tell me how I felt when my mother
Grabbed my cheeks and told me
To pop my pimples
When she asked me if I ever wanted to be beautiful
As if I wasn’t already
Tell me how I felt when I sat across my sister
In a mental hospital
After she gorged herself on unknown pills
And she said
“Don’t ever die. Dying isn’t fun”
Tell me how I felt when my parents
Showered me in gifts
After I finally told them I was depressed
Like they were trying to buy back my happiness
Tell me how I felt when the boy
With the beautiful smile and cigarette stained breath
Stuck his hand into my *******
And whispered
“You know you want it”
Tell me how I felt when my body froze with fear
When early onset rigor mortis snaked through my muscles
When I clamped my knees together
And denied him access to my body
Tell me how I felt when
He pushed his blushing appendage into my mouth
After I said no
And how I felt when I kept my lips sealed
How I let him get away with it
If you are such an expert on my landscape
Pinpoint all my scars and beauty marks and moles
Locate all the intimate areas my fingertips explored
Tell me how often I shave my legs
Tell me how much pride I feel when I remember to put on deodorant in the morning
Draw a map of all my
Forests, canyons, and lakes
Prove to me you really know me
Prove that you’re really looking out for me
Prove your advice
And remember
No good deed goes unpunished
And if you still maintain that you know what's best
Look me in the eyes
And tell me who I am

Little boy Cain finds daddy’s old straightedge
Cracked leather band, wipes the blade on his thigh
Little boy stalks ‘round, slingshot in the sedge
Soft stinging cheeks, striped where bloodlines dry

Little boy breaks ice, cold winter this year
Big brother chops ash with numb hands out back
Little cat hunts mice while the dogs chase deer
One last hammer lash, then leave duties slack

Little boys grow up too soon, mother knows
Brother lain face down by the cutting wedge
Little white-furred pup, matted crimson nose
On the icy ground left in need of sledge

Little too late now for the morning chores
Cries upon his knee, curled by reddened bed
Little boy, head bowed, listens from the floor
Brother, bury me where the raven treads

Brother, forgive me, curse the wanton gods
Now, I walk alone through this land of Nod

we lay together,
surrounded in silence,
an uncomfortable gloom.

i lose the battle,
"flesh on flesh...
wounds bleed fresh."

alone with you beside me,
"every inch of my tar black soul,"
a fake bled into a dry life.

A purr awakens me,
urges me to write,
words haunt me and
i can't get them out.

i'm stuck in this limbo
wishing i had something
a little stronger than
a bit of sweet iced tea.

"he loves me with every beat,"
of a straightedge heart
and i thought
we could be happy.

a slice of life,
a pit of sorrow,
a hell in my mind.

sleeping and worrying.
hoping that the world will just spill out?
that might be awhile.

i love you.



xoxo

8 months ago,

it did not seem like we needed drugs

and alcohol

to have fun.


And suddenly,

there was everything

we had heard about from

everyone else.


But instead of in the whispered gossip

and the disjointed stumblings of drunken dreams

it was right in front of us.


And so the straightedge in us

was bent

with every shot glass

with every smoking joint

that we brought to our anxious lips.


Slowly, hesitantly, at first,

our arms creaked upwards towards our open mouths,

as if we were training muscles,

we didn’t even know we had.

But then it became familiar,

and our elbows flowed smoothly with the oil

of routine.


And at sometime during those long and blurred nights,

I lost track of what was right

and what was wrong.


With every sip I drowned my values

and with every inhale, I cremated my former self

and the white smoke of the fire

wisped up into the air of a dimly lit garage.


Until all I was left with was the present,

wondering where the future would take me.

He's a straightedge vegan

That has tattoos for from his neck down

Who loves Star Wars and Doctor Who

Has been a drummer for many bands

Is currently the drummer for Fall Out Boy

My Celebrity Crush is Andy Hurley