Not a day goes by anymore where I don't
curse this volatile world for bringing me into it.
I'm angry.
I'm Sad.
I hate everything.
I'm a coward.
And I hate God and all religion.
I'm just an infantile complain-ee who can't seem to feel anything except hate and anger.
I'm over the death and the sadness and the violence of this iniquitous, depraved place we humans call Home.
Everyday, I wake up to the anger in my burning, nauseous stomach and wonder why I have to be such a coward.
Sometimes life is great but then I'm reminded that life involuntarily defecates on everything that matters even a little bit.
I used to pray to your so called God for help
Because it was what one of my friends would have done.
But now I see that even in her time of need, He was gone.
The devout little Christian girl that Christ didn't want to save simply because it would require work.
There is no hope for this manic, putrid planet.
I'm done being nice and pretending that I'm a good person.

two years ago,
i was fighting a monster
from breaking my ribs.

today,
i am fighting an invisible ghost,
from watching me pick up the pieces
that haven’t decayed yet.

Gnashing teeth, gurgling blood
She emerges
Many eyes, all seeing
Prayers go unanswered

“The problem with falling is sooner or later
you’ll have to hit something.”
- Jenny Owen Youngs

My eyes met your eyes
at nine years old in the cafeteria.
I learned you were terrible
over a loud lunch where

your laughter met the spilled drink
and tears making their way
down another’s skin.

Your hands met my back
before I met the sting
of your unheated pool.
This was the standard when

my lips met your lips
at an age we boasted
in a space that was ours.

My friends met your personality
not once.
Our space was where you launched us.

My gaze met the Milky Way
when you were the only one
around to care for light years.

My feet met the ground
when you called me
your favorite expletive.
You rethought that stunt when

my fist met your face
upon remembering how terrible
you were in the first place.

The coldness of winter stretched everywhere.
Is there any possibility to remain alive?
I scrutinized around but they all appeared same,
Young boys with an expression of terror.
‘Is anybody there?!’ I gave out a long shout;
My voice echoed through the lonely desert.
No sound responded except my own.
Sometimes ago it was tremendously noisy
But with the trade of violence everybody hushed.
I walked around searching for existence;
Walking through the crowd of silence wasn’t easy,
As I frequently stumbled upon the figures of dead.
Some of the faces weren’t recognizable
Yet I identified the fear in their appearances.

Suddenly, my eyes fell upon my companion!
It seemed like he was having a bad dream.
His body was pierced by the bullets.
‘Wake up, matey!’ I shouted at him
‘Your mother breathes with a hope!’
But he didn’t care to answer back to me.
Tears welled up my eyes and so I spoke:
‘You have given up your life but for what?
Death for death? Suffering for sufferance?
I know you have sacrificed your breath
Yet you will live a forgotten death…’