zero 1d

The idea of my human worthlessness is dragging me down.

I think about it for the best part of an hour,
only managing to read three pages of my book in that time,

I'm sorry.

I'm just simply being swallowed up by the lack of water surrounding me.
I'm sick of the endless stream of chatter that isn't coming out of my fucking mouth.
I'm sick of the looks no one is giving me because they don't actually see me.

They see a figure,
hunched over,
reading a book.

The book has no words.

The average day
of an average teen.


I left the diner at 12pm.
I brushed my slightly overgrown teenage hair back,
and put on my straw hat. My pink bike rested on a
coffee-coloured wall. I pulled a carton of cigarettes
out of my pink sweatshirt pocket, watermelon flavour,
to be exact. I strolled the street, with my
bike in hand and rose-red cigarette in mouth,
the tip lighting up like a black volcano, now and then.
Leaves, curled up like dolphins dance on these
solitary streets.
I got on my pink bike
and Tokyo-drifted down the streets of solitude.
I felt like a penguin parading down deserts of ice,
delivering a holy message of nothingness,
my words are nothing,
my sentences are nothing,
my paragraphs are nothing,
my questions are nothing,
my answers are nothing,
and my poetry is nothing.
I zoomed down the silent and suffering streets
as an unimportant pink blur, a speck of existence.
Garbage bins zoom by, where my poetry sleeps,
full with wasps worshipping rotten amber apples.
The tropical tang of the watermelon cigarette faded,
I flung it from my marble mouth and
like an executioner, the bike wheels finished the flame.
The tiny black volcano lay extinct on the gravestone street.
Graffiti posed like a Playboy model on broken concrete walls,
painted by philosophical and political punks, the real heroes
who are censored by the desperate void of customs and rules.
All they want and all I want
is to be set free
by breaking the barriers
of love,
and the barriers of language and expression
and to be hidden by the eternal judgement and
distorted doubts of a non-existent closet of fear.
The dolphin leaves dance joyfully and swiftly,
like an American boy’s passionate kiss
filled with an erotic marijuana bliss.
I am with him now,
I am with him forever,
and I am with him in the grave.
I am with his lips,
I am with his hands,
I am with his stomach,
I am with his cock and balls.
I am with his legs,
I am with his heart,
and I am with his soul.
I am with Nate.
Desolate, hurt and confused in the Irish suburbanite darkness,
I dream of a warm, sunny day in North Carolina,
right outside my not-yet house and
on bright, emerald, neon green grass,
I lean in for a kiss
with Nate.

If you were alarmed by my inactivity, well don't  worry, I was only writing this, my longest poem ever... It's essentially my "Howl"
Mims 2d

You are just another object that they cannot fuck
and it makes them angry
These boys, they get angry

So write goodbye behind your ear and down your throat and in permanent marker on both of your thighs

Tattoo cunt backwards on your inner lip, so everytime you look in the mirror and try to choose teeth to pull to make their rejection more convenient
you will be reminded of who you are

They will say swearing is ugly and you will say bitch until they shift in their seats
You will stare them down and bring your pointer finger across your neck
Don't you get it?
You will say
Pretty girls end up dead
You should know you're the ones killing them
But don't think that means I won't kick your ass in my skirt
won't strangle you with my golden hair
Won't choke you with my pretty nails until you are reduced to a blood stain
I wake up in once a month
These boys will think you owe them something
They will call you
Lez bitch
Simply in need of "some convincing"
When you don't want to sleep with them
you will tell them you get more girls then them
You are beautiful
You are sexual
But most of all you are strong
You are fight
And you will tell all these boys to their face
That you could kill them with a look
You could weave a noose out of your armpit hair and fasten it around their big fat

You will be the one to change the world
I say
Cradling my daughter's head

You will be the one to change the world I say
Hugging my son tight
We will not go quietly into this darkness
I will raise you
With fight
will raise you RIGHT

This is my life.
Because my gender has been used to portray weakness and inadequacy and an excuse for lack of respect for as long as I can remember. I grew into a world uncaring unforgiving being told to mind my own business. When my bestfriend got raped and everyone around me said "well, with a chest like that.." when my brothers and uncles dismiss my opinion, because "girls are too loud nowadays" it is entirely my business. I will not be silenced by your judgment.  I will not go quietly as so many have told me to.
People have told me this is just another angry feminist poem,
And damn
You're right.
zero 3d

He sits next to you on the train.
Your heart flushes as he smiles your way.
There's something about him that draws you in,
maybe it's his dreamy hair,
that seems to shine in the morning sun,
or maybe it's the book he was reading,
or maybe it was his hollow eyes,
the ones with the rings under them that makes him
look like he's three weeks past bedtime.
His four patches on his blue, denim jacket,
each with sassy comments on them, stating his hatred for Trump,
or his place as a Feminist?

The colourless rainbow tattoo on his wrist,
next to a heart.

It has her name on it.
And you sit and wonder...

Am I her?

You aren't.

You're not his tattoo,
the one that sits on his wrist.
A name that is passed carelessly throughout the carriages,
The name that stops at the platform.

You are a gentle thought,
unravelled in the minds of others,
growing and nurturing,
exuberating kindness as you do so.

You are not his tattoo,
but a garden,
soon to flourish and grow stronger,
toughening through harsh winters.

You are not his.

You are an evergreen mass,
you were born to live
and you thrive as you do so.

To the people experiencing negative thoughts because you're not his tattoo.

Wait a bit...
You'll soon grow into a garden, and feel the sun on your face.

And you'll think;
'Why was I so worried before?'


She could blow smoke rings,
and was on a first name basis
with all the local punk bands.
I was emptying my chest
to hide her away, because if
her parents came inside and saw
my face between her legs,
they might think anything other
than love, love, love.

An amalgamation of the girls I've loved and lost, as well as a testimony to dating someone who is in the closet.

"What are you?" might be asked
But no one will ever know
For if I trust you enough
My love for you will grow
Because, I live in the sea
Something that must not show
So I dress up in a gown and mask
Letting the sea breeze blow
Yet, you never came my love
So I shall let my secret go
Into the sea I jump
As you walk down the path to me
Watching as I flash before your eyes
Becoming oh so free
Running, screaming you call my name
But I cannot hear--how far down must I be?
That day, I lost a lover to land
And she, her love to sea

zero 6d

The pieces of my heart,
weigh me down
and cut me,
I ache from the lies you spun
and the time I spent with you.

The next time we meet,
you won't have teeth.

You hurt me.
Don't hold your breath on my resurrection day,
you won't have it for long.

Mims 6d

It's on days like this where

I listen to music more then I talk to people
Have headphones
And a lack of conversation at the dinner table

I wonder if I cut out my tongue
And boarded up my mouth
where would the poetry come from?

Would my brain be a constant flicker of words and rhythms
Would I attempt to scream every night
Where would the poems go?
Would they bleed out of my ears and my nose
Would they make one with my tears
And if they did would I be in a state of constant crying
And bleeding
And dying

But my biggest fear

Is what if the words left completely
What if they no longer poured over me
Baptized me
In a world of hope

Of myself that I have not yet
But know will one day accept

Would you be cleansed
Of me

rivers of hope would flow down your cheeks

Would I show love
Without my words?

And when she told me
That she did not agree
Would my body just stay numb
Holding back words-
I mean tears
While she talked about us sinners

On the days I want to take a vow of silence I remember keeping my heartbeat steady as I looked her in the eye and said
It is not our job for judgment
When you preach hate where are you leading them?

Because God is love
And love is love

She would remain unchanged
She would never know the percentage of lgbt+ youth at risk for suicide
Or those who have already tried
Or whose parents have disowned them

So I preach

I preach love and acceptance

Because God is love
And love is love
And my love is my


So no
I will not be silent
Because I refuse my niece and nephews to live with a mother so hateful
to grow into a world that is unchanged
Because of people like me

Who once believed silence

was even an option

I will never know love
But I knew you
zero 6d

Imagine you and her together,
Right now.
Hand in hand,
cheek to cheek,
laying comfortably in bed.
The vinyl record humming,
and hearts kissing.

That's me and him.
We're like this, but we love separately.

6ft apart.

One above ground,
one so below.

Me and Him.
The story of my love.
The story of my death.


Okay first of all I respect Drake,
I've met him we're cool,
but I wrote a possibly offensive piece about him,
and I want to put it out in my book coming out on 12/12.

I need some SERIOUS advice,
please read the following poem,
and let me know if you think it's too harsh or not.

Here you go:

The Elephant In The Room

Come on it’s obvious,
let’s just admit it,
we all know what it means,
when you lay back & they make you,

how you think Drake got on,
& when do you think he’ll admit it,
sometimes the only thing worse,
than doing it is not admitting you did it,

sometimes getting what you want,
is worse than not getting it,
Drake come on we all know what you did,
& you're the only one that won't admit it,

it's okay it's 2017,
it's fine for you to come outta the closet,
we know you collect those purses for you,
you love handbags you're a Dandy admit it,

plus we all know you love the attention,
so just imagine the publicity you'd get,
if you finally came out of the closet,
& made your private life public,

I can see the headlines now,
just envision what they'd say,
front page of the Daily News,
“Bombshell Dropped Drake Is Gay!”,

& hey if he's gay,
that's okay for real,
I told you before it's 2017,
so it's okay to say how you really feel,

I mean don't get me wrong,
I'm not trying to hate I respect Drake,
I not only like him as a person,
but I also enjoy the music he makes,

& I know he seems mean,
but his bark is worse than his bite,
he's just a bit confused,
because his dad's black & his mom's white,

so don’t panic at this manic Disney Kid,
he’s just an actor that's kinda sensitive,
when hands so soft in fact that,  
I only asked him one thing when we met,

& that was “What do you moisturize with?”,

he laughed thinking I was joking,
but I was absolutely serious,
I mean he’s not even masculine,
not even a little bit,

even when he’s mad & screaming,
he just sounds like a little bitch,
& when he reads this,
he'll probably get really pissed,

but if he gets upset,
then he misinterprets this,
because it's not a diss,
not even a little bit,

I mean I'll support him,
when he come out,
say it loud bro,
say it proud,

say whatever you want,
just don't make threats,
because we both know I'm from the streets,
& the only set you claim is the TV set,

so come on don't start saying,
“I got dudes around that’ll clap you.”,
don't get other's involved in your drama,
that's really not the right attitude,

because we both know,
we’ve both got dudes around us,
your dudes are ready to clap,
& my dudes are ready to clap too,

just waiting like a lion to get at you,

you don't want to get to clapping,
if you're mad to we can start wrestling,
no guns no knifes just one on one,
& I guarantee I'll lock you in submission,

come on man,
you're just not “that dude”,
stop frontin' you an actor not a trapper,
you're not Big Mac dude you're snack food,

baby bait,
small fry,
baby plate,
I guess that’s why,
you got that Babyface,
so sweet you should change your name,
from Drizzy Drake to Birthday Cake,

look at what a mess you’ve made,
took TuPac and gave us this bubblegum,
since when are 14 year old girls hip hop,
no pun intended but what’s going on,

like Marvin Gaye you led the youth astray,

stop misleading the young,
stop feeding their dreams,
with material things,
stop gassing up kids with low self esteem,

with all these fake ideas,
of misleading ideologies,
it’s all demagoguery,
you’re not a real prophet,
& of our Owl you’re making a mockery,
so before we bury you,
we’ll allow you to offer your apologies,

because kid you've got potential,
& yes you are a Chosen One,
but the way you abuse your power,
is disgusting like The Joker's tongue,

come on,
it’s obvious,
let’s just admit it,
we know exactly what the problem is,

we all know what it means,
when you lay back and they make you,

how you think Drake got on,
& when do you think he’ll admit it,
sometimes the only thing worse,
than doing it is not admitting you did it,

sometimes getting what you want,
is worse than not getting it,
Drake come on we all know what you did,
& you're the only one that won't admit it,

but relax I'm not saying this is true,
did you read the disclaimer it's fiction,
just said that so I don't get sued,
& also so possibly I'll be forgiven,

because we all know Hollywood is ran,
by the GMC Gay Mafia Cartel,
that much should be obvious,
especially from all the recent scandals,

recording live from the casting couch...

come on it’s obvious,
let’s just admit it,
we all know what it means,
when you lay back & they make you.

∆ LaLux ∆

Please don't forget to let me know if I should put this piece in the book or not...
Next page