Red rooster strut your stuff!
Puff up your chest,
Fill the room with your allure.
Capture an audience with your grace.

****-a-doodle-doo
All the little chickies gather ‘around,
Admiring your strong calls,
Sharp claw feet,
Beautiful red face,

Like a stop sign to ward off intruders.
Little chickies now feel safe.
Are you, are you a red rooster?
Standing firm in your space,
No one dares to give you chase!

****-a-doodle-doo
Are you one of the little chickies
or Red rooster strutting his stuff?
Admiring chickies or strong rooster?
****-a-doodle-doo!  Who are you?

I'll never be good enough for her
I think she knows this
I always try so hard to prove myself
but I'll never be what she needs
I am not good for her or her family
I have so many questions to ask her
so many things I'm scared to hear or say
I love her
with everything I have and am
I can't even bear the thought of losing her
just the thought crushes me
but it has to end sometime
nothing lasts forever
can she see it in my eyes
when I leave her house
that I'm breaking
I'm afraid if I ask her
any of the things on my mind
that I'll have pushed to much
and the bubble will pop
and this beautiful thing will disappear
forever
and I'll never get the chance to tell her
that I don't just love her
I am in love with her
and that makes all the difference in the world
love and in love
I have never been in love
and that one difference
that small word change
is what keeps me from going back to the dark places
it's my life cord
but I can't tell her that
or she'll feel like she has to keep it up
but what if she already knows and stays with me just because of that
I just don't know
but I would suppose I have to tell her
have to ask her
or I'll never be sure she loves me too
and what would be the point other wise

Why do I do the things I choose?
I try to make things better,
But all I do leaves one more bruise.

Why do I keep these words inside?
All they do is want to hide
I should leave this world
We all know where’d I go
I told you to not grieve
I should have told you sooner
But now…
It’ll be all over.

I shall only be gone for a second
Then you’ll feel me with you
looking down at our old world’s view.

It’s time for me to go now.
I hope this world changes soon...

I sit for hours contemplating what it is to feel loved
did I ever truly experience this?
I don't mean loved by family,
I'm italian of course I feel love from them

But what about that one boy I dated?
Did he ever even love me...
Or did he just pitty me..

I see you hurting and I want to help but I can't because I'm a *******.
I love you so I should be able to do something, anything, but I can't.
You say it's because I'm so far away, but I know that it's because I'm a *******.
Exhausted, you went to bed. I stared at the screen where you were
Where you were is still beautiful, more beautiful than anything I ever see for real.
Eventually I start googling myself, checking every name I've ever lied. I mean lived.
There's nothing there, not on google or bing or duckduckgo.
I'm not even enough of anything to anyone anywhere to be on duckduckgo?
How ******* pathetic is that?
I should be helping you but all I ever do is make you more stressed, more anxious, more upset.
You say I don't, that I give you strength, that I'm important to you.
But I know. I'm a *******.
Maybe you'd be happier without me. Maybe you'd be better off.
You tell me I'm being silly when I say **** like that.
Maybe you're just being kind.
What do I give you, what do I do for you?
I write you a love letter every night for you to read every morning.
I tell you I love you a hundred times a day.
I tell you you're beautiful every time I see you because every time I see you, you are beautiful.
I don't understand why you don't believe me.
Except that I'm nothing. So maybe I'll end it all and set you free. Crushed painkillers and good scotch.
Maybe some tranquilizers so my mind can be tranquil for once.
But I can't even do that, the nothing that I am; I don't have the courage or cowardice or whatever it takes to end myself.
Because what if I'm wrong? What if there is something that you see that I can't?
Besides, I can't leave you. I love you. I'm sorry.
I crawl into bed and feel the tears soak into my pillow.
I try to come up with a way to explain everything wrong with me so that you'll realize why I have to go.
I imagine your answers, I imagine your face as we talk.
I just want to stop hurting, to stop missing you when I have no right to miss you so much.
You're so beautiful. How can you not know?
Now, I'm thinking about kissing you.
And tomorrow doesn't seem so bad.
Maybe tomorrow will be better, maybe I'll see in me what you tell me is there.
And maybe you'll let yourself be beautiful to me.
And we'll have a chance.
Maybe.

They always ask questions
                Over and over again, questions are asked.
My lips a constant question mark, my hands a fleeting moment,
                 my hair ******* in thoughts I never question.
whether I am asking for knowledge or release or death is uncertain.
                               The last two are not mutually exclusive.
                                                             My bones are restless.
When she dips into the spaces between your ribs, digs out flesh and words with claws
                   I often wonder if you can even feel it.
                                        But my hair is too messy and requires my attention,
      My hands are too chapped for me to do anything but lick the cracking skin.
We are not an answer, and questions are not lifeboats.
         The sea is not afraid to toss and turn in its bed, drowning nightmares beneath it,
                                                             ­             But who are they?
                            My lips think they know, but they say nothing,
pinched into silence by something different than us, but not bigger.

                                       When our knowledge makes manifest something like peace
   I return to my whetstone, press my teeth to the grain, and wait for the storm to put me to sleep.

married to fate, chained to the future
my wounds won't heal, not even with sutures
the roulette ball rolls; who knows where it'll land?
will i know to take hold when you outstretch your hand?
each day my doubts plague me, gnaw at my soul
and sometimes i wonder if this is why i thrive in the cold
what prompts us to write, to shove words out in the open?
who can look into our eyes and know that we're broken?
the pen is a blade; my heart is a trigger
this place is a maze; my blood clumps thicker
three years ago, i thought i would be different,
thought i'd be bigger, or less worried about insignificance
i thought the world would turn on its' axis boldly,
and that i wouldn't crave days where i want someone to hold me
three years ago, i wonder if my sails had a stronger direction
and once upon a time - i swear - i had more connections
fear still finds me,
a panther stalking its' foolish prey,
and time still blinds me
with how quickly it ticks away
is success just a feeling? is it only a name?
is it even a level, a possibility in this game?
is passion a feeling, or just a thirst for fame?
is home a person, a place, or an imaginary plane?
my mind still haunts me, with its' rattling doors,
and sometimes my demons whisper that i'm doomed to bore
questions ignite my being, setting me ablaze
as i wonder if i will ever be ready for the adulting daze

Have you ever noticed?

Have you ever seen?

Have you ever heard?

Have you ever screamed?

Have you ever touched?

Have you ever felt?

Have you ever asked?

Have you ever received?

Have you ever lived?

Have you ever loved?

Have you ever even noticed?