By Arcassin Burnham

Speak your peace and draw your heart,
No more paper ,there's no start,
Minds collapse imbued with fire,
Everything's the same,
Light it up and smoke it well,
Fill your lungs with that green hell that
feels like heaven every single day, no game,
Spell it out , don't say it loud,
Prove nothing to you , don't make you proud,
But I don't care, will never ever expire,
The **** you say don't mean a thing,
It's blasphemy, the actual day you come for me,
You'll have to ****, my entire empire..

Don't bring,
Your bad,
Ener , gee here,
Don't bring,
Your bad,
Ener , gee here,
Don't bring,
Your bad,
Ener , gee here,
Don't bring,
Your bad,
Ener , gee here,
We're here , we're here,
We all, exist,
Gawd **** , gawd ****,
Can't han, dle this,
Don't bring,
Your bad,
Ener , gee here,
Don't bring,
Your bad,
Ener , gee here.

thousands of words race through my mind,
yet i still draw blanks.

the paper is still clean,
like the clean slate i dreaded for.

what can i say,
to embed those words from you.

nothing,
i suppose that's why i can't come up with anything.

If you're looking for a reason not to **** yourself tonight, this can be it.

Sometimes, we feel as if nothing matters.
We all do.
So i made a list of a few of my own reasons,
13 Reasons Why
I'm still alive.
And hopefully you'll change your mind.
Those moments you feel happy, and nothing but lucky.
And you wish nothing will ever change.
I will try my best.

Reason 2. Paper Planes.
It sounds very weird; paper planes, but let me explain. Think about the times when you're walkin in a hallway on your way to a test, and you see a friend from a different class who already took it. You look at them and they immediately shout what you have to read, and you shout back the answer from the homework's last question. Or when you're in class, writing a disstrack about the teacher and annoying the **** out of them because the whole class just knew without telling we had to annoy the teacher. So you fold boats, make hats and trow clots of paper. When you have slack lay in class. When you trow paper planes and when everyone gets a F on the math test. When two of your friends want to sit next to you so you finally have a group of 12 people and don't do a **** during class. That feeling of luck, of happiness, of friendship and the feeling of stomach pain from laughing. Like you belong here. That feeling when you just have to smile. It's hard to explain but i hope you get it.

With my words I weave a scene,
A flawless world that seems pristine.
Verdant trees and babbling brooks,
Lands from ancient story books.
It is in these worlds that I long to be,
Basking in blissful serenity.
Walls of paper blockade my way,
The ink-stained partitions seem to stay.
I wield my pen, my trusty blade,
As I carve a legacy page by page.
These places that I often scribe,
Evade me quite; I cannot lie.
Yet perhaps for a moment I may just pretend,
And weave my scenes until the end.

Empty space
Is odd
I am both attracted and
Repulsed
By blank paper
So much potential
Do I marr it
With empty words
Are my scribbles
Worth anything?
I
Do not know
Yet
I write anyway