my friend said she’s
Quirky
Angsty
And different
She’s not she’s insecure
And I don’t mean any offence bu that statement
But she thinks the chains around her neck make her appeal to her abuser
And the fact that she’s never, really, properly drunk and yet pretends she’s wild and has lives lives she hasn’t
She says “ if you ever need someone to be a crackhead I’m right here”
She’s not
She’s insecure
She has sisters
I have brothers
And although we’re no longer defined by genders I think we are now
She wants to be like her younger sister
But she’s not popular like her
She lacks for charisma
But is sweet and kind
She thinks “cage the elephant” is indie music
And thinks listening to the strokes makes her cool
And that turning of capital letters on her phone somehow makes her “not like other girls”
She’s wrong
I don’t do any of that **** and I don’t pretend to be quirky, angsty, and different
And all the boys prefer me.
And yet I’m insecure
She should go back to fan-girling over Shakespeare
And writing books and poetry for fun
You’re not
Quirky
Angsty
And different you’re just insecure
Ok yeah good. ?  !
Got it perf.
Vibes. Cool,,, lel!’v

ME: I’ve called you all here today to ask you something.
BROTHER 1: [looking sideways at the door]
BROTHER 2: Hmm.
MOM: [smiling widely in that way that says she knows]
DAD: [smiling widely in that way that says he doesn’t]
ME: To be frank, I don’t think you all like each other very much. Is that true?
MOM: [smile gets tighter, hand reaches towards phone]
DAD: No, it’s not. [scratching side of head nervously]
BROTHER 2: Hmm.
BROTHER 1: You all bore me.
ME: We know we do.
MOM: [typing furiously]
[silence punctuated by dog licking his leg]
ME: So, now what?
BROTHER 1: [rolling eyes slowly and obviously] What do you mean, now what?
ME: Well, I mean where do we go from here?
MOM: We don’t. We just stay here or nothing at all.
BROTHER 2: Hmm.
DAD: What else can we do? How do we know doing anything at all would be better?
ME: I am tired of writing poems in my head about us. We have to do something.
[silence punctuated by dog coughing]
BROTHER 1: ******* and your poems. Do you want to hang out?
MOM: I love you all but I can’t stand any of you.
BROTHER 2: Can we be done now?
ME: We’ll never be done.
ALL: We’ll never be done.
[dog sneezes]

Sometimes,
I think
that getting a piercing
would make
me feel better
as if--
poking and prodding
my skin,
my face,
with surgical steel
and permanent ink
like I'm some
eighth grade
dissection lab,
would allow me to remove
and dispose
of all the useless parts
that make me
from the ground up,
like an architectural,
design.

Could you be different?
Truly?
Or have I gone too far yet again?
My love, you are the stuff of dreams
With your crystalline eyes and paint-stained fingertips
Those delicate movements from roughly hewn hands pluck gracefully on my heartstrings
That crooked smile, so clever and mischievous; it could get away with ******
You are not for the faint of heart…
But then again…
Neither am I

I feel as if i have been
fifteen forever

It suits me
To have lived fifteen years
On this planet

I wish i counted every second
every day
that i have been this at peace

I am a gemini so i must have two faces
And i guess that is true
Smile now cry later they say
I’ll cry later in my room.

Pretty faces all around dont let them see,
I cry in front of the mirror as my other face leaves with my makeup wipe.

Im sad but you must have guessed that now.
You know cause ive made it blantly clear,
Yet my family and friends dont suspect a thing.
They dont see that im as fake as can be.

Its not ones fault but mine, cause no one wants a pretty girl with a dark side.
Smile now cry later they said.
I guess thats how it’ll be