He'd always leave at 2:53 P.M.
Swoosh fwoump.

It was only a matter of time,
Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-ti

I wanted to be free.

He'd strap me to a chair and whisper,
sweet stories that you'd coo to *a child,
with sour breath running down my neck,
his greasy forehead pressed against my tear-stricken cheeks;
it'd deteriorate and culture in my ears.

His scent engulfed my mind,
my body, my soul...

He made a grave mistake,
dressing me in grimy socks,
making me dance skin-to-skin,
forcing me to kiss him, call him.

Oh no, you see,
he should have known.

I betrayed his trust, I'd pay the price,
"Isn't that right, Leila?"
That's not my name.

"Now Leila, darling, you're going to be a good girl,
for Daddy, aren't you?"
That's not my name.

"Leila, sweetheart, I can trust you, can't I?
Hmm? This will be our little secret,"
That's not my name.

"Aw, don't tell me, dear, beautiful Leila,
you aren't scared, are you?"
That's not my name.

I knew him well,
after a few months,
and his smell was musty,
only when I let it be.

He always liked sweets,
like me.

He was disgusting,
and my wrists ran red with incisions;
he'd lick them clean.

He'd always leave at 2:53.

"Oh Leila, sweetheart, I expect dinner when I get back,
won't you be a good girl,
and do as Daddy taught you?"
That's not my name.

So I did.

This kitchen was charming,
as much as his worn dining ware,
lined with cracked roses painted by Chinese overseas,
wondering when they would be used.

This was the first time I'd seen him genuinely smile,
"You look especially beautiful, tonight, Leila,
perhaps it's the sparkle in your eye,"
That's not my name.

He took a sip.

His glossy eyes hovered above his glass,
and his gaze drifted over to me,
in my grimy socks and brown-stained apron,
my long, dark hair drapped over my shoulders.

Another glass,
another glass,
another glass,
glass,
sugary sweet,
sweet,
down his lips,
lips,
lips,
teeth,
throat,
liver.

He liked sweets,
sweets,
sweets,
dripping, sipping,
sweet,
sugary sweet, nectar,
cool, smooth,
antifreeze.

He'd always leave at 2:53.

Silence.
Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-ti-

2:53 P.M.

Silence at 2:00-
2:00
2:00

I'd heard him cry,
"Leila, Leila, Leila,"
That's not my name.

He'd always leave at 2:53,
2:00,
silence.
He would never leave at 2:53,
2:53 P.M.

*I left at 2:53. Silence.

Listen friends and neighbors
As I do my best here to tell
Of some of the animals which
Reside in this jungle hell.
Some may look harmless
But can eat you all alive.
And many for no reason
Prefer you do not survive.

One is so horribly large
It can fall on you and end
Any chance you may have
To become its loyal friend.
It’s the smarmily gracious
Nearly total waste of *****,
Cringingly contumacious
Pusillanimous pachyderm.

It blunders around the jungle,
Often the danger is crushing.
It cares not for little folks, it
Only cares where it is rushing.
The other creatures around
Are annoyances in its way
And it really doesn’t care much
What they might have to say.

Of course, there are donkeys
Of many different classes
But try as each of them may
They always act like *****.
They bray but acquiesce
As long as they get their hay,
And do their absolute best to
Stay out of the pachyderm’s way.

And of course, the chameleons
Who cleverly change their look
So they can hide in plain sight.
No chances were ever took.
They hide among the foliage
And only come out to eat
And stay out from under the
All of the larger animal’s feet.

The pachyderms are herd animals.
They learned to stick together
So, few are clever enough to
Face them down in any weather.
But there are these little creatures
That use tricks and some tools
To take the occasional beast down
Though animals think them fools.

Then there are the tigers as well
And they must be well considered
Because like the pachyderms
They work very well together.
But they won’t often take on those
Huge beasts with the long trunks.
They are smart enough to choose
Their dinner in smaller chunks.

So, the lesson here is for you
To move carefully, don’t bungle.
It may look like a lush and green,
But for reals, it is just a jungle.
The beasts will make short work
Of humans whenever we weaken.
So, don’t walk blindly around.
Remember, it’s you or them!

It's hard to write happy things
When I'm feeling sad
It's hard to talk and "walk the walk"
When I'm feeling mad

Most of the songs I write
Are when I'm angry or depressed
And you don't have to read them
If it makes you feel upset

I'd hate to make my readers feel
The worthlessness and pain that I often do
It's hard to know if my works are "bad"
So just read a line or two

And give it a like if you really do,
Don't like it out of pity
Because it will tempt me to continue
With little or no mercy

So please do not hurt yourself
By reading something violent
And make it even worse
By keeping complete silence

There is no need to do that
So read at your peril
Because whether I am angry or sad
'Tis the work of a devil

Debt Threats tie in
Short arms, deep pockets?

This hand is empty,you’d best fill it up,
Fat cats in in suits better cough it up,
Im broke but not brokedown
I’m fit and and full of the the venom and rage of
An entire age of wage slaves on who’s backs you fed
So we’re fed up you better cough up like syrup,
Before we erupt and melt down,
This whole town,
My home town...

The only way to turn these angry frowns
Upside down is for YOU to dig deep down in your boutique booties
And cough up
Before your face feels-my bootheels,
Are you listentin? Ya better,
Cause we’re fed up and bitter,
You think its getting better? HA?(echo)
Maybe for you…but open up your eyes,
See the cries of those you secretly despise,
And abuse,
And then wonder at the crime rate?

I'm like a volcano
I hold it all inside
I lead people on like a tour guide
I appear dormant
Like everything's fine
But I know I can erupt at anytime
too greedy to stop selling tickets
Too greedy gotta rack up them digits
Sometimes my scruples get the best of me
I'll give off a warning sign
Black ashes is the usual recipe
Y'all just too focused on being mine ain't worried about ur heart dying
Or your eyes crying
Or what ever happens when the lava starts flyin
Your poking a bear with a stick
Expecting me to be okay with it
And maybe that's my fault
Maybe I'm responsible
Still no excuse for the table salt
Taking the bait ..optional
Ashes weren't good enough so I hit you with a rumble
You fall
You stumble
And then you come straight back
I know you feel that heart attack
Stop trying to act strong and heroic
*** when I feed in to it ur not as devoted
When I unleash the fiery flames
You still wanna play these stupid games
Till I mess around and burn u fast
Then u start talking bout how u left me in the past
Man forget u and ur mama
I ultimately was Tryna avoid the drama
I didn't wanna hurt your soul
but you gave me no choice
and now the pain ur feeling is out of my control
I tried to warn u
But you just wouldn't listen
Too focus on being persistent
And now u got me feeling bad
It told u this from the beginning lad
I'm like a volcano
I hold it all inside
I lead people on like a tour guide
I appear dormant
Like everything's fine
But I know I can erupt at anytime

I used to wonder how people make fun of their mental illnesses
I used to wonder how anyone can make light of their problems

"I'm not gonna commit suicide today doc..not today
I'm too busy to die, look I've got a family sized Malteasers
pack to eat and I need to know what happens to Daredevil."

I thought, how could you make fun of what's happening to you?
I thought, how could you make it out to be funny and comical?

But now I'm here
In this ****.
And to joke about it all, is all I've got
That's what I have to do to keep going

I need to make this funny because I can't handle the truth
I literally can't handle how serious my problem is
It numbs the pain and it works

I used to wonder how people make fun of their mental illnesses
I used to wonder how anyone can make light of their problems
But now I get it
I understand now

everyone tells you of the terrible twos
but no one warns you of the teens that haunt you
you lie there alone, all warm in your bed
as bouts of depression dance through your head

you walk through the halls, life a hazy grey
as you wish those demons would just go away
anxiety haunts you, you tell your psychiatrist so near
as you wish you could just walk out of the rear

pills and pills in little orange bottles
“this will help you i'm sure! it's the new model!”
you cant help but feel that no one can comprehend
that you, a child, is so near the end

you cant feel anymore, they whisper in your ear
closer and closer the demons grow near
you feel so trapped, as you cannot breathe
you sit down on the floor “not again” you seethe

they’re called panic attacks, your therapist tells you
these happen a lot, and they are hard to live through
your friends they try hard, to get you to smile
you do as you are told, this goes on for a while

you realize when all is gone and all is done
when you wished you were dead, **the demons had won