I long for the siren who whispers my name in her song
Who calls me into the oceans of her eyes
And drowns me in her words.
Her voice lingers in my mind from times past
And like a scar on my heart forever lasts
Through my looking glass I, the oceans, peruse
In search of her, my first and only muse.

To feel this much anger
at even picturing a persons face seems,
in itself, harsh.
But picturing that face
Those faces
Sends my mind in pursuit
Of a crusade
To avenge myself
The younger self
That was taken from me
And stripped bare
And shot
As I stood by watching.
Those faces plague me in my sleep
And torment me as though I've done wrong
But I haven't
And I will find them
And hurt them
As they have hurt me
Or worse.
They will weep.
I promise.

Drop a stone in a well
And wait for it to
Splash into the water depths
You feel
Exist
Interminable seconds pass
And the echo of contact
Does not bounce up the stony sides
A white pebble
Gleamless as it falls through dark darker
Than pitch at midnight
Falls
And nothing more
The consummation of sound
Is never made
It won't be
And yet
You wait
With an ear to the yawning mouth
You wait
Perhaps forever
For the satisfaction
The confirmation
Of a plink at the bottom of a well.

When I turn 18
I'm gonna exercise my rights
That atrophied muscle I was denied
Since I was born.
I'm gonna start with a lotto ticket
And a pack of cigarettes
(don't think I'll smoke them though)*

I turned 18 eleven days ago
And since then my dreams
Like puffs of smoke from the cigarettes
I never bought
Have dissipated into air that just barely occupies my lungs
I have no home
No family
No rights to the one thing I wanted
The one thing I convinced myself I deserve:
Happiness.
Gangrene eats the atrophied fibers
And loss of hope eats my soul
Aren't these trials supposed to make me stronger?
Or am I too weak?
I don't want to carry on.