Why do I even bother? The world is full of stupid lies,
Write this silly trash and it becomes another waste of time,
Perhaps someone will notice, of course nobody ever does,
It's just that we're ALL losers until we've "flown like the gods,"
This will be my last poem, I always promise myself it must be,
But eventually I cave and waste my time on another rhyme,
Fill the world with more useless verse that no one will ever read.

The endless waking
In my sleep
Because of the
Nightmares
That are in repeat.
Each one,
Is a reflection of my daily life.
And with each one I die.
I die not because of the evil
That is rampant within the society.
I die because
My darkness,
My despair,
My sadness,
Consumes the air which I breath.
Leaving me helpless
And worthless,
Like a piece of trash
Drifting on the ground.

***** girl. godly beast.

I couldn't be
one of those
beautifuls
if I pleased.

tribal bones stained
with European empirico
I am black death disease,
just human trash
that learned to read

& I believe bootleg genius
is being
massively reproduced
more cheaply & as we speak
is being weakened
so as to be spoon fed
to the cool kids.
yknow they
couldn't do it
by themselves.

never sweated.
laughed instead
yes
I seen em
inchin to the edge
but
I didn't
do anything about it.

I kinda feel guilty
cause I didn't
do anything about it.

It's just a ****** up
awful sound,
a whole generation
hitting the ground
at once.

Man. it really
puts things in perspective.
kinda makes you wonder
what's coming next.

medicine medley
ineffectual
malady infectious
witch hunt etiquette,
I think in pictures
disney depictions of
apocalyptic ****
yet to be decrypted

I rip myself to pieces
every day.

A few forgetful moments
And I am littered with paper cuts.
Each tear is a page: a meaning: a reason.

I am encased with quilts and a
Bubbling love, but the chills
And demons find their way through.

I was told
Explicitly
To pull my head out of my ***,
Because struggling with education, depression, and
Harassment
Is inconvenient for others.

I forgot to reline the trash can in the bathroom.

Dear diary,
I almost hurt myself again today. Its been over ten months since I did it last, but you know what a ***** life is.
See ya later!

***** reminds me of rainbows,
And vice-verse.
My stomach is thunder.

I don't have enough tears to make it rain,
But I might **** enough.

What should I do with my life?
I make decisions and
Work my *** off more than any
16 year old I know,
And care for others in any way I can
In hope that they will return the favor when I need it,
But I'm still ignorant and selfish, says she.

Sometimes I wonder which way is up
And right. A nervous tick of mine.
A moody strand of my being.
Trying to connect to reality, but curving...

i don’t think there are things quite like this:
quite like ocean-breathing. quite like soft
hearts and softer fingers. quite like hands
strong and hair pulled.
kiss me until i forget her name. push me
on my knees in the hallway—breathe me;
breathe me; breathe me.
i don’t think there are things quite like this:
quite like “take it off”. quite like “****, ****,
you’re—”. quite like “how much **** would
you get for this hickey?”.
give me mouth to neck to hands to back.
give me soft, give me softer, harder. give
me all teeth, all fingernails, all scratch and
no soothe.
i’m not drunk but i might as well be; you
have never been an instrument i knew how
to play well enough to perform. i’m on my
knees and then not anymore and i’m not
one for praying but i feel like this is the
moment i ask god when i turned into
something so close to an exit wound
even my mother wouldn’t recognise me
anymore.
i don’t think there are things quite like this:
quite like trembling so hard the china might
scatter on the floor like ashes. quite like
“i’m not just using you”. quite like whispers
so soft they seem to go up in smoke.
he kisses my neck and i go weak in the knees
but i feel like i would be strong enough to
withstand a hurricane like this. he kisses
my neck and his hand is on my hip and
i think about how sometimes a flood brings
more than it takes away and i think
that’s you. i think that’s you. sometimes
i wonder if i could be like that for you
too.
you see, i don’t think there are things
quite like this:
quite like shaking but still. quite like
cold but willing. quite like you.

Look if you don't like my poetry
That's perfectly ok,
Lord knows I'm such a failure,
And they **** anyway!

I hereby declare
That you shall not have a fare
Towards this land of beauty and fair
For you have put me in despair
Never have I been so clear
To put you out of here

its funny how
desperately
you wanted to
take my heart
away from me
and now you're
just throwing
it away like
your old cds