Your generation is defined by definitions.
'This generation', this new-fangled bunch of hooligans
Cut out and put in the oven,
Lives pre-formed, based on premonitions,
Put into the system and cranked out
Made up of numbers and tests that really define who you are.
'This generation' that you have given a set of rules
A set of molds to fit into
To pour their lives out and 'better the world'
Shaped with your all-knowing tools
Scissors that cut funding to the parts that maybe,
Perhaps, might make them an individual.
Because here, no, here we don't have room for individuality
But we sure have room for this assembly
Your freedom of religion, speech, and freedom to assemble
No room for that, for fear of immorality
We don't have time for originals, we don't have time for strays
I'm sorry that you've got ideas, Generation Y
But this is the generation of time constraints.
We've got technology to innovate, an ozone to fit
Communities to build and lives put at risk
But that's not as important as what's in the now
No, not as important as these tucks and nips
We've got to put you under the needle
Even after we swore, 'first do no harm',
But this isn't going to hurt, I swear
Well, maybe not on the outside.
Look here, Y, you'd be better off compliant
To fix our computers and drive our trucks
To turn off your TVs and just trust us
To read the chapter and finish the assignment
Because to us, you all learn the same,
To us you are still just a number
Even if you think you're out when you graduate.
So what, you graduated the system,
And it's done it's work on you
Have your daddy pick the college and your mama pick the sheets
Pack your bags, you're ready for the big world
And that's exactly what we made you think.
Generation Y, you are fitting into the molds we gave you
We tried to crank you out in groups of 300
And we did
You were never allowed to be original
And you weren't.
Generation Y, this cookie-cutter, uniform
'Glued to technology', uninterested
Group of 'stupid' teenagers
You were forced to unify
And forced into corrals, thereby,
Forced into lives we've blessed you with.
I swear, by my very intelligence
That we're good by you, good by the world
In evaluating what we need
Where we need people
Hopefully creating a society less-gnarled
Generation Y, you may hate the population
But you are the population
And you are what we told you to be.
Your lives were pre-formed from day one,
So, please,
Sit down, shut up, finish your definitions,
And stop asking why.

the rain pours outside, and i become compelled to
pour my own self into a ****** poem that won't cover half.
pour my own self into a ****** poem that won't cover at all.

the rain pounds outside, and i become compelled to
cower into a corner and pound against my walls that don't budge.
cower into a corner and pound against the wall with my ribs.

the rain thunders outside, and i become compelled to
thunder my way into what i think i deserve that isn't even half,
thunder my way into what i think i deserve that becomes even less.

the rain is lighting outside, and i become compelled to
be lighting and light my way through rotten magnets that easily budge,
be lighting and light my way through rotten cement that won't give.

the rain intensifies outside, and i become compelled to
twist a beating ***** until i can intensify whatever's left to feel,
twist a beating ***** until i can intensity whatever is not.

the rain dies outside, and i become compelled to die.
die into a fine mist that'll leave a mark on everyone,
die in such a fine way that i'll be able to breathe again.

the rain pours outside, and i drown.

I’ve drank ***** that tasted
better
than your biter heart
and smoked cigarettes that
smelled sweeter
than your gut wrenching pride,
glided razors across my body
that are softer than your
words
and swallowed pills that numb
me
more than this heartbreak.

THIS **** ******* *****!
You have deleted every profile picture
and cover photo with us in it,
Ten times out of Ten you changed
your laptop background of all the pictures
of us,
Forgot the song that you gave us 3 years ago,
changed your cell phone background,
deleted the cell phone pictures,
Go to sleep without thinking a bit about me,
Talk about me casually to people like I
pretty much don’t ******* exist,
And to top it all off,
You are probably the happiest you’ve ever been.
Like our relationship was nothing but handcuffs of burden
you were dying to break out of.
I guess my lies and stupid decisions were memory cards
large enough to completely erase all of our past data -
How is this so easy for you?
How is walking around campus easy for you?
How is going home alone easy for you?
How is cooking alone easy for you?
How is sleeping alone easy for you?
We have marked our forevers on every inch of this
25,000 populated resident.
I can’t go 3 feet without remembering a time where
we were here, and there, and EVERYWHERE.
How we held hands on every speck of the sidewalks,
How our favorite bus seat is now unoccupied,
And our short cuts that weren’t really short cuts,
just flatter ground to walk on because you were so
lazy to walk that way is now a ghost filled alley
of “I don’t give a ****”

What also ***** is I still do all of your habits.
Like put my sides of food on top of one another.
Or how I turn off the lights when I leave a room,
Or how I now buy that Gain powdery washing
stuff for my clothes
Or how I turn off the sink when I’m brushing my teeth,
AND how even though I am not lactose intolerant like you are,
I STILL BUY LACTAID MILK!
WHY?!
I DON’T ******* KNOW!

My mom always told me I will learn everything the hard way.
I guess I wasn’t meant to get my first real relationship
right the first time around.
Heartbreak.
I would rather wish for God to come take back his Saints
but leave me on earth’s dying wasteland
than this.
I feel like I am wasting my time saving myself for that
hint of what if called, faith
but then doubt comes along and says,
She’s gone.
She’s never coming back.
Ever.
Move. On.

It’s so hard for me.
What harder is that I know it’s easy for you.

I don't know a lot about how to love someone, but I do know this:

1. I know that every single cloud in the sky will begin to take the shape of his hands. I can't explain it, but it will seem like the universe is made up of little pieces of who he is and the stars will stop granting wishes because they know that yours have already come true.

2. I know that there are an infinite number of ways to fall apart, and only one way to put yourself back together. He's not it. There are ship wrecks at the bottom of the ocean that haven't moved in decades, so when your voice shakes, know that you are still in one piece.  

3. I know that there are books missing from the Bible, yet it's still the most touched piece of literature in the world. Even when he is gone, there will be someone else who wants to touch you, I promise.

4. It's okay to be afraid of oblivion. There is no better way to say I love you than to admit that one day, nothing will exist and you're afraid he won't be around for you to love. It's okay to be afraid of oblivion because when all we are is dust there will still be hope that it's not the end. There was an oblivion before us, and if there is an oblivion after, whose to say that it's not just another beginning.

5. I know that I don't know much about the world yet, but I do know that when trees fall apart, something else grows in their place. I know that even though it may seem like pain is inevitable, there is a way to make something beautiful out of it.

6. I know that he will start fires in all the places you never wanted to get rid of. Second-hand smoke will become your only language. It will hurt, but after a while, you'll miss him even when he's around and at that point all you will be is a house fire.

7. I don't know how to love you, but I do know that when I figure it out, I may lose my ability to walk. When I figure out how to love you, 4 am will never seem as far away as your arms. I might never hear anything else but the sound of your voice when you're tired, and I will be so happy. I hope that when I learn how to love you, you'll learn how to love me too. I hope that you lose your ability to walk. I hope that we stay still together because I don't mind being a ship wreck, as long as I'm a ship wreck with you. I don't know a lot about how to love someone but I do know this: *i'll find out.

I didn’t speak in fear of saying the wrong things,
Letting my insecurities build layered rings
To protect me from the vagrant eyes of society;
For years I grew up a silent and impervious tree
That feared the men who wouldn’t love me.

But then no, no, then you suddenly came along,
Full of mystery and conversation
In those Watergate lips and eyes like Nixon;
I should never have trusted your boyish conviction
When we met in September and you said ‘Hi Steven”
Like I was the most important person to you,
And how I downloaded a texting app just to
Write “Hi” back to you everyday and how you eventually told me
To change my last name to yours—you made a deep incision
Through every shell of skin I provisioned
For ordinary men like you.

But this is not a love story because
You were just an ordinary man
And I was just an extraordinary fool.
I thought we could drift forever lost
In the desert winds of my dearest dreams—
But love was a mirage and you were an oasis;
I took a sip from the shadowed pool at every cost
And ended up with a mouth full of sand.

This is not a love story because I didn’t know
Two guys could just be friends if they talked to each other like brothers
Because whenever I did, I was called a ***
For trying to pick up where my father left off,
For ignoring me my whole entire life because he cared more about his drug deal
Than his own family.

This is not a love story because you were a guy
And I was too obsessed with being what I wanted other people to see;
I didn’t want to be happy if it meant
Giving up the sweet internal peace that came with being
One hundred percent normal in America’s eyes.

This is not a love story because
It wasn’t written in the Bible.

This is not a love story because we live in a nation
Where having a crush on a guy labels me with damnation,
Where we teach our boys that love is only beautiful if it is in a woman
And that those who see otherwise are sin-ridden;
So many tongues tied to the tips of our teeth
Our nation’s sons and daughters beaten til the love runs red in a river of their tears;
These gender roles wring us out dry and drown us in a shadowed pool of fears.

I can proudly say I was in love with a guy,
But I won’t say it was for the right reasons.
I was blinded by the reality that maybe, just maybe,
Having intimate conversations with a man wouldn’t label me.
And it never will, not now, not ever,
Because I am not an ordinary man—
I am peculiar.
I am not yesterday
Because I am tomorrow night.
I am not a vagrant hiding in a black wood behind the skull
Because I am a redwood, rooted and full
With my outstretched arms soaring high into the sky
Because love is a blind sun that shines over us all,
Making our walls look as small
As the rubble when they fall and fall.