matter can't be created or destroyed
and something inside of my head tells me that i matter
or at least
tells me that i cannot destroy myself

i have always existed, in one form or another
it's just that i've only had a body for 21 years
and the rest of the time i was a little less than human

i have two choices
to be
or not to be
but i don't think Shakespeare ever took a science class

we have-- to be
and we can decide what to be
but we cannot decide if we are or are not

we never chose that

our existence
is a beautiful mystery

one that i wish to understand

there are only two choices
to be
or not to be
like God

we are the pilots of our own experience

where will we go
what will we look at
who will we look up to

will we absorb everything the night scene has to offer us
or will we open up in the daylight like the flowers growing from a dunghill

we are stuck on a planet poisoned with
pride
****
pieces of the devil lodged in the crannies of our soul

but who am i?
i have to be--
i have to be--
something
(but my choices haven't defined me all the way yet)

The things that threat me
Never seen, but my back
When they shall see
The face of Caesar
They
Are vanished

If I was beautiful
And rich
And my family had a rivalry
With another family in town
I’d definitely fall in love
With one of their kids
And sneak out at night to see him
And he’d crawl in my bed
And we’d fool around
Hoping my parents
Wouldn’t find out
We’d try and run off together
Be free from our parents
And all their expectations
Who would care if we’re young?
We’d be in love
And that’s all that would matter
Right?
So we’d get married
Behind our families’ backs
And come up with some elaborate
Out-of-proportion plan
To run away together
Like they wouldn’t be able to find us
So I'd pretend to die
But Shakespeare’d **** me over
And my man would just play dead
Only for me to really die
So that he could continue
Winning the heart
Of every poor innocent girl
He'd meet
So much for star-crossed lovers
But me
I'm just seeing stars
I’ll never call lucky
And I won’t be thanking

Sometimes I cannot say
what is blue rose or basilisk.

‘...We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep’                      
Shakespeare The Tempest Act IV.i.156

We are such stuff of stars and light
our grasping hand, our gaping eye
our mind electric sparking
all atoms in the crystal night
connected matter
across infinity
still in one moment
collected together
in the universe
and my quiet garden
at midnight.

******* society
For making people believe
That there is a certain way to live and breath
Everyone is the same, there is no variety
You outcast those for rioting
And living their life defiantly
What gives you the right to judge me
You are not god almighty
You are the reason for my anxiety
And loss of sobriety
And visits to the psychiatry
But I stand in protest finally
I will no longer sit quietly
And let you decide unjustifiably
What I should be

Your judgment makes people feel insecure
Why do you believe that everyone has to be similar
Why don't you understand that no one is perfect
Why do I have to conform to your culture to earn respect
Why is money the only way to achieve success
Every person lives just like the next
This makes me feel so depressed

*******, I chose to be unique
I refuse to live a life that's boring and bleak
My life does not need to be critiqued
Your approval will not bring relief

Happiness is key
I will live happy and free

love me so, love me though
my heart is not yet at the ready.
see me through, see me new
a person rebuilding from thine past.
stabbed through the heart,
broken from the start
this romance doomed 'fore the bloom.
you love me so, you love me though
I cannot return the favour

Shall I compare thee to a cup of tea?
Thou art less lovely and less temperate.
Your voice winds do shake my tranquillity,
And fair attentions are too hard to get.
Sometimes too hot your critical glare shines,
And often is your vicious tongue untrimmed;
And every sip of love in time declines,
With swift return to lover's lounge much dimmed.
Your sharp heat shall never cool to comfort,
And all sugar in the world won't sweeten,
The bitter beating of your blackened heart;
Nor shall the greed of your soul be beaten.
As long as men can drink a cup of tea,
So long lives my hate and disgust for thee.