when i die
there will be riots in the streets
screams across the nation
a flash flood of tears
american flags serving as pyres

my blood will spill out
in the form of flowers
from a bullet wound
painting the ground with roses
attacking the police with thorns
growing from my bound chest
towards the sky.

i will cough up vines
and smile
with red on my lips
and petals in my teeth
so my curses will be laced with poison
and my death will be excellence.

lover, you burn my eyes open in the winter
as a branding iron presses into hide.
you've stitched your vision behind my eyelids
and soaked cigarette smoke into my clothes.

make me your casualty of war
and i will still love you in death.
i am a vagabond of the dunes
and you are the burn that scorches my feet.

you are calligraphy on a bathroom stall
you engrave your message into my mind
and pour gasoline on my unconscious being.
lover, throw the match.

welcome to hell! welcome to hell!
where it may be sunny outside
but you wouldn't know
because you are trapped in a classroom
for seven hours a day

welcome to hell
where the teachers drone on like crickets in the night
and can't restart or repeat
yet it sounds the same each time

hell, where your creativity is graded on a scale of one to ten
ten being average
nine and under being a Failure

where Assassin's Creed teaches you more about history than your World Studies class does
and apparently calling a football team
the "Redskins" is giving honor
to Native Americans

please get warm and cozy
when you pledge your allegiance
and loyalty
to a flag every day to honor
your dystopian country that mirrors those books you read in English

praise your popcorn deities
but suffer eternal damnation
if you do not believe

indulge in exhausting labor
that earns no merit

take part in your anxiety
suffer through your abilities
and keep your eyes open

hell will show you a world of opportunities
giving you the unique option to hate
to hate either yourself or everyone else

you won't need empathy or sympathy anymore
apathy is all you can survive on

learn to erase your childhood
bury your life in books and dissolve

oh, and if that doesn't stop you,
try fighting!
hate yourself!
feel like dying!
but most importantly,
enjoy your stay.
you'll be here for a while.

my sweater keeps me warm
when i am cold in study hall
and when the art room is 43 degrees

my sweater keeps me warm
when it is raining outside
and within my body
because i am soaked to the bone

my sweater keeps me warm
even though it's the only thing
i'm wearing in the winter
and my breath forms clouds in the night sky

my sweater keeps me warm
because it has flowers in the fall
and reminds me who i am
that i am who i want to be
that there is only one of me

my sweater keeps in the heat
and hides invisible bruises in the summer
but only when i want it to
i can to show myself if i want to
i can take off my sweater
when i want to, you see
my sweater keeps me warm
when their fingers are like ice
just because you can feel
doesn't mean that something's there

my sweater stops cold hands
from groping my chest
as if they're trying to find a treasure

my sweater
is the oil when we have no heat
igniting a new warmth to cradle others
but only if i want it to

my sweater is mine,
no one else's
and I get to decide what to do with it

i don't need
protection
i'm okay with my warm bit of symbolism
that fuels my independence
and kindles my soul
no one can save me in this matter
only i can help myself

my sweater keeps me warm
when i have a lack of faith
and no God to believe in
because i am my own savior.

i'd like to know how staying in a hospital
is described as a "comedy drama".
my "red-band society"
was nothing like the show depicts
these kids
these kids are happy
they're joyous while they're flirting and making out in a closet
for ****'s sake, that's not even high school
the nurses aren't your friends
they aren't there to hold your hand while you die
they have jobs to do and lives to save
my red-band society was me and my moms
but i was the only one who participated in the activities
i laid in bed with stickers and clips taped across my body
and the sleeve on my arm constricted
every fifteen minutes
i didn't hear laughter in the halls
i heard heart monitors erratically beeping
and hurried footsteps whenever someone was dying
i wasn't laughing over cancer and anorexia
i was laying awake at four in the morning getting my blood pressure checked every hour
the red-band society
is a constant EKG with a prolonged QT
that may lead to arrhythmia
you don't get to go to homecoming
you don't get to run or race in the hallways
hospitals shouldn't be romanticized
cancer isn't fun
anorexia isn't a phase
there is nothing happy about being checked in
about being sick
i was miserable
and this show is glorifying disease
kids are going to want to be hospitalized
there's no knowing what they'll do
to achieve what the program advertises
i'd like to know if the maker of the show
is in their right mind.
granted, people's experiences differ
but kids shouldn't be promised damaged friends
if they stop eating
if they run away from home
a hospital isn't a ******* playground
or a child's domain
the fact that they are showing doctors being this irresponsible is nauseating
nothing revolves around you
there are other people who need help too
and children will harm themselves
with the expectation of of video games and relaxation.

i'd like to say i'm sorry
to everyone i've inconvenienced with my identity.
i'm sorry that it's such a struggle for you to say "he"
i'm sorry i'm not a dog so you can actually feel guilty
about misgendering me.
i didn't know that who i am is such a problem
that i cause you so much trouble
and i should take responsibility.
it's okay to pause and correct yourself
and maybe talk to me afterwards
but when you blow it up and complain
you make me want to scream.
for some reason you treat pets better
and i understand, i know
but i deserve a little more respect than something owned.
i'm sorry i inconvenience you with the way i dress
that i don't look enough like a boy for you to even try
i'm sorry that i don't wear basketball shorts and nike shirts
to convince you i have a *****.
but guess what?
i dont.
i'm a boy who wears pink with
"female parts"
because you are too scared to say "******".
do you ask random people to pull down their pants so you can validate them?
if we stick to gender norms
would you tell a girl to take her pants off
because they're not "ladylike"?
meanwhile you tell boys that it's okay to take girls' clothes off without asking.
you say you acknowledge my identity
yet you still tell me to take off my clothing because it's too "girly".
and when i say
"what's wrong with that?"
you spit back
"nothing, then why aren't you a girl?"
I don't need to be a girl to respect a human being
but that's how it generally is.
i'm 15 and i know more than most 60-year-olds
we should know better by now to at least treat people like people
because i am not a pet
i do not have a leash
you cannot dress me or neuter me
i can have whatever genitals i want
because you don't own me.
i am not a slave you had centuries ago and still make jokes about
i shouldn't have to apologize for that.
i'm not a wound you can heal
you can't just apply burn cream and a band-aid and forget about me.
don't treat me like a broken bone
like i need a splint
though i'm not okay on my own,
i don't need you to tell me who i should be.