I said
”I love you so much it’s killing me”
and you kept saying sorry
so I stopped explaining
for it never made sense to you
what always did to me,
to let what you love
**** you
and never regret.

As Romeo is dying Juliet says
”I am willing to die to remain by your side”
and love was never a static place of rest
but the last second of euphoria
while throwing yourself out from a 20 store window
to be able to say
”I flew before I hit the ground”,
and it was glorious.

Don’t be sorry.
The fall was beautiful, dear.
The crash was beautiful.

If you're my girl
You'll know
Fighting for my attention was the expectation but I brought the actual reality
They still owe me a check
But they gave some to Beck
And I'm cool with that
The rain is just here because I told it to be
Just for you
No gimmicks, just intentions with a little background
I do love a good play though
When I'm not feeling a movie
I'd rather watch a more downed to earth one
That is more artistic than Shakespeare's way with words
Even he had a difficult time explaining the beauty of plays
Hell if I can, he was the pioneer
I'm just trying to enjoy this whole idea now
But you know what I'm all about

For starters I thought it was basically all dating and going out with
a different girl every night, little did I realize I would go to a high school with
like one hundred twenty  girls total. Subtract the seniors who are leaving soon,
and you have around 80 or so, then you subtract the girls who have no interest me in,
even as person and you have maybe forty or so, then you subtract the people who have
no interest in a boyfriend, and maybe if I’m lucky there are twenty five girls who
could have an interest in me.
Yeah needless to say I got that pretty wrong.

Also the speed in which “Yeah she’s cute please ***** off” goes to
“madly in love he wants to insert ****** act that we are supposed to call gross
and sometimes is gross her.” elevates is shocking, now that girl
thought I would do anything for her.
I didn’t realize that middle school would continue, just with people
making out in the hallways.
Trolls and fun sponges slides up to the new guy and look for a mole hill
to make into an impassible mountain range.
Also I just realized that to “ball with us” does not mean play basketball,
and is not something that saying you are “all about that bikelife” is not a way
out, its just I’m really not a fan or wasn’t the biggest fan of the obsession with stats,
I make my bad habits nintendo to avoid things like the rather depressing news
anyway I think “ball with us” means get ****** with us, it took only about
half an hour of thought but I think I got it.
I never thought I would get mildly drunk to avoid racing the next day.
I never thought I would be sixteen and have a grasp of the world that I consider to be
nuanced enough, of course there are still things like red lights mainly just colored lights
that are very much below my age, yet I never would have thought that I would be sixteen
and still have my virginity, my mouth virginity, yeah.
I’ve heard girls talk about me, mainly not “oh my god he is so hot” but more
clueless about who the hell and what ever the hell was said about me
or videotaped,
like so what I listen to a song that was proud to have been current in 2008,
its a good song!
Or that I played Lady Macbeth in a play! I’m ******* proud
to be me! To be state champion (I know so subtle right?)
to have seen the weird wonderful things that I’ve been blessed to have
been part of, to have you as my reader I’m proud that somebody is seeing
this.
I’m not complaining about my life its just I thought
my love life would not be on life support at the age of sixteen.
Though maybe it would ****.

Wouldst thou endure to fade like autumn gold,
To see thy treasures dulled in fading light,
To watch alone thy tarnished days unfold,
And pass a pauper into worthless night?
Who then will bring a wreath unto thy rest,
And keep thy garden flowered, as is thy wont?
The barren cross that lays above thy breast
Would bear thy name, yet bring to thee affront.
But if thou takes a servant to thy cause,
To tend thy garden and to do thy deeds,
And he would gift a son with no remorse
To tend to thee when his own strength accedes:
Thy treasure trove reflected in his gleaming
Would bring thee joy as thou is ever dreaming.

"'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed."
Oh, Shakespeare, knowest thou not what is in my dreams?
I am both for I do bad deeds,
yet from judgement I receive no relief.
Their eyes are adulterate, but so are mine;
both our eyes with sins do shine.
Thou seest not what I do;
I am evil through and through.
The worst of evils am I,
for in my soul I am kind,
though my exterior pierce like barbs,
for I let myself be rule not by my heart.
I soothe the pain with hidden love
praying at least to be forgiven by God above.

I never feel
More connected
With my world
As when I
Get sunburned,
Twist my footing outside,
Or pierced by an expectant
Mosquito.
Then I'm bitten
By the ashen irony
Of our soliloquy.

In fair Stratford-on-Avon
Is where we set our stage,
This town where
Our Bard was born,
The man for all ages.

In The White Swan
John's son, Will,
Was rightly being toasted.
Young Will had a way with words,
And used his quill
To turn girls' heads
Toward his finest,
His best bed.

Halfway down Market Street,
Just before the Barber's,
Lived the Hathaway girl, Ann.
Some locals called her Cougar.

Will didn't know how old she was
For she didn't look her age.

A few months on,
Her belly grown
They held a cross-bow wedding.
Ensuing vows
The reception crowd
Filed into The White Swan,
Raised their tankards
To toast the couple
With this Avon song:

*Shakespeare hath
His will with her,
But Ann hath-a-way.

Leave me to breathe and I'll write you poison
Of the darkest roses that bury me in your thoughts
You and I are poets of tormented thorns
This plethora of verbal abuse
Our building blocks for emotion
Gives us the power to captivate the very soul of innocence
And unto darkness we reign
For an eternity
Of true thorns
And a rose by any other name

All the world's a *******,
And all the lads and ladettes mere defecators,
Gratifying oozing exits and entrances;
And one man perforce enacts too many roles,
His acts being seven deaths. D'abord, the baby,
******* and ******* on his mummy's frock.
Then, the errant truant with his rucksack
And pock-marked ******'s face, creeping like death
Foul-trouser'dly to school. Next a teenager,
Panting like mad dog, with an oozing pustule
Dripping oe'r his girlfriend's pubics. Then a hoodie,
Full of strange oaths, and dressed up like a freak,
Lacking in honour, decency, and up for aggro,
Seeking the respect of loathsome peers
Even on the street corner. And then the adult
With bulging beer belly, and ample burgers stuff'd,
With eyes dulled by unfulfilled promises,
Mortgaged to the hilt, and indebted to Visa,
And so he wastes his life. The sixth age dawns
Before he knows it, bald futility,
With ****** in pocket, five quid a pill,
His youthful hopes well ****'d, the world too much
For his ignorance, and his vain butch rantings
Reverting soon to teenage curses, coughs
And tobacco'd wheezings. Last we see him,
Ending a pointless and useless existence,
Clutching to his ****-stained Zimmer frame,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans pension fund.

I saw the morning dew betwixt thine thighs
as I removed my source of Grecian power,
as if King Midas dared to touch the skies,
upon thy body fell a *******.

Thy body's temples, two church bells had rung
upon thy chest, a row of pearls bestowed.
The sun had set, thy set with wary hung
I thought, "How black a night, and blue a lode!"

I said, "What light through yonder ****** breaks?
It is the yeast!" And now my belly's yellow.
My pole gives cause to storms and earthy quakes,
but 'tis not massive, I am no Othello.

And when that final moment came to pass,
like Christ I came a-riding on an ***.