I should have learned by now that there aren’t any “signs”-
Any sort of supernatural clues that hint I should make
      someone mine
And I should have guarded myself the first night we met
We saw so many shooting stars I almost lost count of them

I quadrupled the amount of shooting stars I’ve ever seen
And we laid so peaceful next to each other while you lost your
      falling star virginity
Not a single time that night did I think to make a wish
Because feeling loved beside you brought back the feeling I have
      missed

But that feeling and I soon went our separate ways
As I slowly noticed you weren’t eager to hang out most days
That I was that call when you were drunk or lonely,
An afterthought, and I was supposed to respect that completely.

Shame on me, you said, for saying the same way you treat me is
      how I am going to treat you-
That we can continue to be “back pocket” friends, tried and true
I never wanted being true to who I am to interfere with what we
      had,
But I couldn’t stay quiet while inside I felt so sad

You made me feel stupid and clingy for asking for your time
I felt like I was the idiot for trying to make you mine-
To be more than that guy you sleep with when you want someone
      to hold you
If I wanted this all to be casual, I just would have told you

And now at times I wish I wouldn’t have told you
How begging for your time made me feel so ugly and blue
I wish I would have gritted my teeth and stayed quiet
So that maybe in your own time you would treat me with respect

And maybe that’s what I should have wished for upon those
      shooting stars
That God would’ve kept you and I together or that he would
      prepare our hearts
To understand each other and love each other and work through
      our problems-
Act like adults instead of fighting and crying when you made us
      be done

I know what I’ll wish on my next falling star
That you would miss me or call me- not change who you are-
But that you being you and me doing me would work out in the
      end
That we could be together without either of us having to pretend

I hope that’s not too much to ask for- not suppressing my feelings
Or being able to speak my mind without having you hate me
Was it really necessary that you block me after you were offended
If you ever loved me the same, it never would have ended

But I refuse to compromise who I am or what I want
I’ll never accept less from a friend whether I love them or not
I guess what I learned is to never love someone until I really know
      em
And that’s why I write yet another sad poem

How many more children have to die
before we stop believing the lie that
America is safe
and America is great
and that we all live under the rule of a really great guy?
Before all our children don't need to vie
just to survive
going to school and coming out again alive?
Before mental disorders stop being the
brunt end of a joke
and that maybe there might be hope
that those who suffer don't have to walk on a tightrope?
What about when we can start living in harmony?
When we stop judging others and
start shunning dishonorary
acts of violence
acts of hate
and acts of crime before it's to late?
How many more children have to die?
How many?
How many?
How many?
How many???

-Spider

You know that feeling
When everything around you
Is just spinning,
Pounding,
Bringing total chaos?

But somehow you feel nothing at all.
Not scared about being shot at.
Not being scared that a car is about to hit you.
Not being scared that the freshman that you just shoved out of your way will come and hurt you.

You just stand there,
Watching the bullets fly at you.
Watching the headlights on the car come straight at you.
Walking away but turning around to make sure he isn't running after you.
Just waiting to see what will happen next.

That feeling you have when all that chaos is happening,
That my friend is called calm.

My dear shooting star:
never fall from the heavens
just to be with me.

is delicate.
breakable.
prone to trauma,
and thus an effortless
vehicle for vengeance.

with a river of pain coursing
through arteries
and slender vessels linked
between the most vital
***** and the source
of thought, emotion
quite often thwarts wisdom.

And, oh children,
a steel serpent lingering
within easy reach
remains ever ready
to strike
at will.

I remember when I asked you,
October 2, 2017
what if something happens tonight?

I remember when you,
rolled your annoyed eyes
there is zero chance that something will

I remember thinking,
anger flooding my brain
I bet that no one ever thinks it’ll be them

I remember mourning,
the 50 people who died
they never saw it coming

I remember the anxiety,
following me to every concert
maybe tonight someone snuck through

I remember praying,
looking around at all the strangers
I shouldn’t have to fear for my life

I remember shaking my head,
wanting you to listen
we need stricter laws

I remember our fight,
your exhausting arguments
guns don’t ****, people do

Here in America,
we improvise morgues
as needed.
in the cafeterias
or by the lockers,
near the ticket booths,
and at the altars.
We divvy up the dead.
Tally them
and report the number
like an answer.
13, 20, 49, 58, 6
Every death count
a timely national shock.
Almost as if  
our well-televised  
monthly tragedy
was ever anything less
than a game of roulette.
anything less than a matter of time
and time and time again.
Covering them each
with our bed sheets,
we try and stifle it.
Do our best to
staunch the the sights,
the noises,
(“just like chairs falling”)
the names
that keep bleeding out
onto our thoughts  
and tongues,
Far too much and
too often
not to choke on.

Here in America,
we’ve learned that  
horror is level-headed.
It is debatable.  
It is pangless.
It seeps, deep to the core,
perverting with a silent smile.
the steady, feverish dread
weaving itself into the mundane.
the “god help us”  
annulled by the
“respectfully disagreed”
the nightmare that lies  
always just underneath,
and just out of mind,
Until it insinuates itself
Again and again...

Here, in America
We line the bodies,
death slumped, and  
bled out on the pavement.
We arrange them-
Side by side.
Most are missing things-
a hat, a piece of face.
one shoe, a dulled pencil
(fill in C)
phones
buzzing on the ground
lit up with unread messages
(“Please call me”)
They are missing-
an upcoming  
7th birthday party,
(Star Wars themed)
They are missing-
their vacations.
their first dates.
their college applications.
job interviews.
kids.
fiancées.
Lined up lifeless,  
they are missing
far too many things  
to gather.

I'm a ship without a captain
I sail wherever the wind takes me
I have seen troubled waters, but
I always feel powerless to turn

I'm a navigator without a compass
I don't know where my heading is
I cannot find the North Star, but
I don't need to in these doldrums


I'd rather remain here
Hear my wish!
O shooting star -
Bless me with an eternal tonight
So I can forever gaze at the stellar sky

A swathe of green awash,
With mourning dew;
Soaks the toes of my shoes,
Bearing witness to my passing,
As I bear witness to the passing of others.