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Our poems are our children.
We can't have favorites but we do.
I want my child who speaks my
truest to garner your pleasure.
Some of my red headed step child
poems capture your hearts.
I love them all the same.
The party was on fire the
  music was beating our hearts
  and we were courting on the
  the back stairs together alone
  and we held tight and soared
  into an impossible place and
  rode the beautiful beast as long
  as we could and were thrown into
  the fury of my lovely debris.
  It burned my fingers and I drifted
  with my beer and shrinks and
  beautiful naked imposters to
  remind me of your perfection.
I'd have it no other way.
Call it black white brown yellow red
or a chalky grey bluish burnt umber.
it don't matter. I love and hate you
all the same. Be kind and I love you.
Bully and I pity you and set you right.
Every job I ever had was a family.
  We knew everything about each other
and those xmas party open bars were
  beautiful disasters. I loved them so.
  I wish I had a photo of us over years.
We all shared so much sober, drunk and
  hung over. We loved and fought as family.
We made us all the better for it.
I think of my work family often and am amazed at the richer my life is for all those beautiful crazy ******* friends!
I hope I find imperfect dark
where all is nothing.
white picket fences aren't.
perfects don't exist.
games aren't battles.
siblings aren't contestants.
panic attacks don't freeze me
into a catatonic fear of me.
no more teachers **** me
and I like it but shouldn't,
but I do and hate me for it.
no more. down the rabbit hole.
I remember the sound of your voice.
  We lived the loudest times of life
  together. My cousin Mike was constant.
  We diverged but you stuck with me always.
  I wish I could call you and hear your laugh.
  I need it more than ever but you died away.
Each night before bed instead of prayer
  I lie in dark and scream muffled truths
  into my pillow about how I really feel.
  Stop asking me about school. It's school.
  It has giant clocks with minute hands
  that mind **** each of us. Tick...Tock.
  Friends are foes. Lunch is hell. What
  table is ok today? Anxiety is my best friend
  with me always and everywhere, over my
  shoulder as I puke in the stall and feel
  brief relief. I drag me to the next class
  with cruelty in abundance and giant clocks.
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