Give me all:
Your hate
Your jealousy
Your lies
And all your deceit

I'll put it in a box
Wrap a yellow bow around it
And strap it to my back

Tomorrow, said the crying kid,
I'll ride this here red rocket
I'll fire it at the scorching sun!

I will not miss
I am true of purpose
I am pure of heart

And when I reach my target,
Burn my payload to ashes
Your kid of age five and three quarters
Will utter these final words:

Mom, dad, see.
I've set your dying love free!

How can you put the idea of luck into words?
It’s like the sun rising and falling at just the right times,
like having a parent who gets you a sweet
jacket that you really didn’t want
but now wear it constantly because it’s a pretty nice jacket.

Luck and air equal in appearance.
It was there for me when I was born, when my parents understood me,
when Sandy hits all of New York but my neighborhood, when
my parents got me my first bike, when
the car managed to not hit me, when I outrun
the fitness coach who was rather angry after I spat at him
when I stumbled across this guy on youtube, who encourages
vegan eating. It feels like immortality, like death really
does not want me, maybe life is stronger and luckier
then death.
It feels like I have a silent guard or guardian always
tipping a domino that leads to me still breathing.
No! Really it encourages the most aggressive dare devil
moves like not touching the ground once in Manhattan
red lights just becoming meaningless colors.    
Perhaps luck is the devil building me up to be
more skilled and better just to shatter the thin air.

In every way luck has been there.
Sure I’ve had ****** moments but they always manage to
feel like a set up for something else.

There is a level of pain between death and making you stronger
that simply hurts, a deep soul wound that never kills.
I’ve always been a “victim” of a pain that makes stronger muscles.

Sure things have came very close.
When I was three or so I was bored and cleaned the house
with chemicals and was blinded for three months,
a neuron or whatever sciency very small unit away from
being blind in my left eye.
but then luck came and I can see fine.

How many times can you get lucky, and no not
in the daft punk way, without feeling
something grander is saving you for something insane
something pure and brilliant like creating a chain reaction
that reaches space?

Or perhaps this is how prophecies get fulfilled?
A mortal gets a gods luck and when the mortal
mistakes them self for a god is when they learn
too late of their mortality?

i am wearing my favorite christmas hairband
a snowman surrounded by red and blue bows sprinkled with snow
my father wears his favorite cubs hat,

i rest my head on my father’s Slanted shoulder
my eyes rest on my hand sitting lightly on his wrist
my father’s gaze is directed towards his gift.

maybe that’s it.

They expect me to be as smart as Einstein

To have the body of an Olympic athlete

Show kindness to everyone even if they have hurt me

Deal with my own problems

To shut the hell up when I curse

They say THEIR world doesn't revolve around me

But they don't understand that right now MY world revolves around them

From the time that Billy was a kid
There was evil in the things he did
His mama knew it
And I knew it too

I told her that he needed help
I tried to avoid this evil whelp
I had to find out
Something I could do

Billy's teachers said he's bad
In fact the worse kid that they had
They sent him home
And kicked him out of school

I told his mama, he can't be mine
She blamed the Mogen David wine
we had when
we were on our honey moon

As he grew up, he wouldn't change
He'd spend his time out on the range
doing things
we didn't want to know

I told his ma, I've had enough
We can't keep hiding from this stuff
the folks about
will run us out of town

It's bad enough when I go for beer
The bartender serves me with a sneer
And the other's look away
Or just look down

I know Billy has a dedication
To certain kinds of medication
But nothing ever helps
The way he acts

We can't blame the Mogen David wine
I said Ma, I think it's time
That Billy left
and that's the facts

Mama cried, but knew the truth
He couldn't live beneath our roof
Or we'd end up
in an early grave

One night I went and said to Billy
You may laugh, and think I'm silly
but, son you have a week
you have to go

Billy nodded and kept on eating
This was a short,  family meeting
He looked at me
and said real slow

Pa, I know you don't love me
And ma as well, it's plain to see
We ain't the same
and I ain't moving on

I didn't argue, just got up
I couldn't eat, I couldn't sup
I had to end this
I had to get a gun

I knew I couldn't take him down
But, I'd find someone around the town
someone who would
Rid me of my child

No one came to help us out
I even gave the lord a shout
Help us god
our kid is just too wild

A fellow came, in a week, ten days
His name was Pat, to change Bills ways
He said he'd help
tomorrow night

He faced down Billy at high noon
Bill, dropped like a lead balloon
His ma and I just knew
That this was right

Pat, said things will work out fine
It wasn't Mogen David wine
that made Bill bad
It's just the way of life

He rode off in the setting sun
He'd killed our boy with his six gun
with Billy gone
it's just me and my wife

The Sharpie X on my hand stands out against my pale white skin

It says "you are a child"

With it a thirteen-year-old is equally restricted as a twenty-year-old

The sharpie X means no alcohol and it means no trust

It says "you are a liar"

With it they are making sure that you don't lie about your age to get alcohol

Is that what every person under twenty-one is?
A liar?
A kid?