I refuse to write a poem about you. I fear the day my emotions get the best of me, leave me with searing fingertips and sword like pen stabbing holes in your perfection. I never want to cut through your life and dissect your soul. I never want to write about the way you smile and that one face you make - no. I don't want to recreate your hands with words that bring me comfort because I can never replace the feeling of them. I can't write about the way I look at you, or the way my heart pounds for you, or the music that reminds me of you. I don't want to admit how I pine for you, admire you, sit in my car, drive by you how just a glimpse of you makes me high on you. I can't write about how you're the exception to my confidence how you scare me in the most thrilling kind of way. I never want to admit conversations that run through my head, the drunken memories that come to mind when I need a distraction or they demand to be remembered. I cannot write about you and all your beautiful parts I can't talk about pain in an unreturned heart - I refuse to write a poem about you. My words would never live up to your truth and I'd rather have you than a poem that would never do you justice.

I've been subjected
To far too much
Of your *******.

One
Two
Three.
Each have their equal.

Makes a
Two
Four
Six.
All married in the squeal.

Make a movie from this *******.
Write a trilogy for youth.
Paste the pictures on a portrait.
Turn the ******* into truth.

Truth.
What's the
Truth.
Lately I don't give a
****.

Where is God
Where is Allah
Where is Buddha
Where is man.

They're all out there to
Protect us
To give us a glimmer of
Hope.
But I don't feel protected
Not in all of this
*******.

You can't tell me that I matter
With a straight face.
And how funny it is
That you expect me to believe you
When you say it'll be "alright"
And you whisper
"baby please don't
fright"
Baby baby please don't
Frighten the children
With your talk of
Failing kingdoms
And your thoughts of
Desperation.
Baby baby please
Keep it to yourself.

Do you see it yet?
Can you taste it?
All the
*******.
So readily available
For us to take.
To inhale
To pop down
To drink
To inject
To "respect your authority"
To "mother knows best"

Don't let it swallow you up.
When one turns to two
And two turns to four
And then three turns to six
And you're the last one left
To pick up the sticks
Of your crumpling family tree.

Maybe if your two sisters and your brother
All got married and went off with their
New little families
You would understand
Just what I'm going through.
This failing family I'm asked to
Hold together with old band aids
That were used to cover the
Scars in this unit we shared.
Those scars that we swept under the rug
Those "let's not talk about it"
Those "she'll be alright."
I'm sure she just got overwhelmed
By this single moment.
There can't be anything
That we're missing.
There can't be a question
We didn't ask.

It's all *******.

How much longer must I paint on my face
Each morning
To maintain this facade
That I'm not broken inside.
That I'm not so
God
****
Alone.

Drowning
Down
Down
Down
In all of this
*******.

Trying to reach the surface
Trying to let you know that I'm
Not okay.
And that I'm no longer sure that
I will be.

How much longer must I
Stay here.
Hearing you all sing
"Baby baby it'll be alright
Don't you worry don't you fright
It's just a phase
It's just a feeling
It'll pass
It'll pass."
Well let me tell you what.
Let's pretend you care for a minute
And hear me out one last time.
Then I'll shut up and you can go on
Drinking down your ******* with a painted on smile.

Sometimes people are not okay.
Sometimes people are suicidal.
Sometimes people are struggling.
Sometimes people fail.
And sometimes people don't need a doctor
Or a pill off some prescription
To be okay again.
Sometimes they need you
To break through the *******
And to stop caring about
Politics and what your mother and father taught you
To be right.
Sometime you need to forget it all for a friend.
Tear away the stigmas and the stereotypes and all of the
*******
And just hear them out.
Hold them close and tell them
"Baby baby it's okay
To not be okay
All of the time."

Sometimes we just need a break
From the *******.
So please,
Just give me some space.
I'll be okay.
I'm sure I just got overwhelmed
By this single moment.
It's just a phase
It's just a feeling
It'll pass.
It'll pass.

post it online
while you hold your wine
hold your whine
why don't you
tell me?
tell me about it
about ****
and girls with *****
about how you read Vonnegut
how **** makes you feel weird
but you snort coke
and you're trying to grow a beard
and your broke
and wish you lived in Europe
or in the 1920s
tell me *******
animal mothers
about your great luck
how you don't give *****
and your jokes are like minorities
poor and unappreciated
defeated
i'm bleeding
delete this.

You and 12 friends like this.

I viewed the crowd a mad scene of people all determined to grasp what the other didn't have the **** the fix the I have it you don't mentality thrived on insane logic these days .

Bodies broken on the sidelines crushed dreams and the fury of the battle led men to become wolves the carcass cleaned showed only the victory of are savage design.

People pushed clawed killed even in the name of this madness I truly did despise .

Merry Christmas .

And a happy  mind **** to you all.

And i'm so tired of this cycle
being lovely and ****
is what they're good at
they're all the same
and then when you start to get insane
they will start to distance themselves

and in the end, you lose.

The prince and the pauper.
The princess and peasant.
Perpetuating old cliches,
because aren't the differences pleasant?

Romance needs some room to play.
Fill in those gaps of mystery
with grandoise schemes and complex games.

Everyone's a winner.

The beauty and the beast.
The ******* and the tease.
The sheltered ones who live in dreams,
and the streetwise kids who do as they please.

Everyone loves a mystery,
but old cliches only capture so much.
Why do we need a conflict of different world views
to pluck the strings of our hearts?

Jagged little pill
cigarette
wannabe
days like these
smudge
your lipstick.
truth is-
don't like the ******.
like it hard,
hard I like.
Rough.
Big.
Men.
Make you eat it
don't mind
long as I can
top it
**** your life up
**** sandwich
put mustard all over
clover sprouts
salt- pepper
say you hate it
musta ****** up
whip cream queen
dazzle delight
raspberry rhubarb
jam
make me feel things
faster
****, ****
french fries at midnight
brown beers
falafel *****
dynasty drunks
swear you're the one
only one
jive to my beast
keep up my
*******
eat me out
for hours-

Love you.

This whole l\

Are you a wheel
just spinning through your cycles?
          You rolled around;
          my turn today?
Or are you the red-gold autumn moon
          that I howl at?
Am I just a passing phase?

'Cause I've
               been around a while
and I
               can't style up these hours
into any kind of impressive *******
          story that could explain.

Guess I'm an ash-
tray, guts filled up with cinders
               grey faced
     and fouling the atmosphere.
And I guess I'm addicted to this
          upheaval
and a devil's voice in my ears.

Are you a picker
filling up your basket
          chewing up cores
          thrown to one side?
Or are you the grey-green hungry worm
          crawling, curving
through the apples of my eyes?

'Cause I've
               been here so long.
And I
               can't dress up this time
in any kind of inventive falsehood
               or story that would explain.

if i tried to predict the future
if i gazed into a crystal ball
i would see nothing but my sutures
and hear not a hopeful call

my shipwrecked bones will shatter
my heart will fragment and fall
but through the former and the latter
i'll make sure nobody knows it all