mattress stained with blood
nightgown hanging from a crooked branch
you look as if you’ve died and never got to Heaven
because your toes are stoved and purplely black
and i set my house on fire because your touch already feels like flames
it felt familiar
and although i hate your guts
somehow i escape my house unscathed in a plaid skirt in the middle of the midwest
and i assume you’ve relocated me from the scene of your crime
i scream into the smoky air
your sentences choke me—continually repulsed by the audacity you have to speak.
disappear, you vapid creature.

my simple response
“no.”
simply two letters
to your beck and call
is all it took
to immediately
come running back
to you.

I swear I ******* hate your guts and I hate the way this feels
I wish you could listen to what I'm saying
instead you cause all this rage and sadness
And it is not what I pictured for us, not what I imagined
I thought giving you a beautiful little girl
would soften you up but all it made me
realize is that you just don't give a ****.

i hope she knows
someone else loves you
more than she ever will

You cared for nothing degrading each unknown gracious soul a nameless acquaintance as a victim in the wake of your lifelong search for self-affirmation leading to naught. How I hope you slink into the suicidal tidal waves of darkness you deserve. How I find myself hoping to get the chance of one final gluttonous glance seeing the shock sewn into your timeless mask staring out of the casket as just another casualty of conceded conceit and craving. How I relish in the feeling of the the grass of your grave growing from your physical spoils springing between my tickled toes raising my vengeful vitality up my spine until it erupts upward as unbound laughter at the man you thought you might have been. Aye, Good riddance to the dead and may you rot in your own insipid stench like the **** stained lining of your soul.

I don’t trust most teachers
Not because they give us homework or test
But because they claim to be our guide
To help us in school and life
They practically beg us to come to them
But when someone finally gets the courage to ask for help
Teachers laugh them off
Or say they’re too busy

They preach lies and expect us to accept it
They are so filled with self-pride
That they can’t see the pain they bring to others
Too many kids have left classes crying
Feeling as though they aren’t worth anything
Because when they turn stuff in
The teacher looks at it
And hands it back with a smile and says
It’s not worth a grade

Teachers are meant to be examples
But I can’t trust a single word that comes out their mouths
You don’t wanna be here
I don’t wanna be here
So why make us both suffer

Teachers deceive students into thinking they care
They’ll stay after school to “help you”
But once the going actually gets tough they bounce
Why would us students ever trust a liar like that?
I’m still waiting for all their pants to catch on fire

Don’t tell me I’m too young to be upset
How would you feel if all you’ve known for 12 years was a lie?
My words and feelings are important
But teachers have trained us to believe other wise
I don’t understand why you want us to be this way
Maybe because it’s too much fun to see our smiles fall to the ground
Rather than raising them up to the sun
I’m not asking for the moon and the stars
Just peace and a smile

Too many days I want to cry
When the bell rings before that one class
Because that class doesn’t have a lesson plan
It has a plan for destruction
Counting the smiles that walk in
And the tears that storm out

Now don’t get it twisted
There are some good teachers out there
Maybe one or two
But you and I both know the bad outweighs the good
Sometimes the darkest hole of despair is more comfortable
Than these beige brick walls
I rather be alone
Then be surrounded by enemies I am not allowed to fight back

So if you ask me why I don’t trust these teachers
It’s because my momma always told me
Never believe anyone that smiles in your face
And tells you a bold face lie

I'm happy not to have your love,
It's ugly white foam floating on the surface.
I've found my courage to let you go,
And rediscover that my purpose...

...is not with you.

You'll regret choosing dull-wit over me,
But maybe you need control
And you're not as submissive as you lead.
Somebody supplies your bankroll...

...but it's not me.

DO YOU REMEMBER THE NIGHT I HAD SIX DRINKS AND YOU HAD NONE

BECAUSE I DON'T

Are you as sad as your eyes,
Those dull blue eyes that
tell me you're carrying a dead love
like a heavy carcass
everywhere you go

Are you as weak as your lungs,
those tar-stained lungs that
I thought were going to give out
when you stopped holding your tears back

Are you as lost as your voice,
that husky voice that seemed to crack
and fade out, carrying unfinished sentences
as if you had been gagged

I'm sorry,
I cannot hold your heart for you,
wrapped in velvet to keep safe
when you keep letting her
                                            tear it
                                            tear it
                                            tear it apart
like the beer mats that you abused