Weightless
in the lapping waves
Careless
in the sensation
of the quiet kissing of tears off your cheeks

Shot in his ribs;
he cries,
"Oh the dis-familiarity
of such a name,
oh the cruelty
of such a pain,
oh the game
of such a vain
and ugly creature,
who slinks toward me!"

I swear tonight is just a memory
A bad memory with the same old soundtrack
seeping into my ears to tell me
to finally feel despite the setback
to maintaining secrecy

I swear tonight is a memory
or several
but this is reality
and only my denial will change that
so it is time I start lying to myself

I wish that everything was just a memory
but I don't think I am creative enough to make this dark story
or to feel the stinging so clearly

I want to blame
The Domino Effect
but truly this is up to me
when I let the flood free
of painful things and angry things
til I can't think and it flashes back to me
to start a fight

I don't really want attention
I just wanna waste away all emotion
before I gotta talk
to people
and walk
around school
and before I gotta come home and struggle
to maintain my temper
and to keep out of trouble

A handkerchief
I usually call it a bandanna
made to hide away
******* round to look natural
but I know it's not usual...

The little boy in gray doesn't smile often,
and his breathing is so shallow,
they may ask again,
"are you sure that he is breathing? Are you sure that he's alive?"
and rest assured his body's trying
to keep him alive
despite how much he breaks it down
and watches nonchalantly as it drowns.

He longs for poison to taint his blood
and strengthen the walls that creep up around him
(those ugly weeds that stole the color of the ground
and choked out the bound
to be life that would have sprung up at his feet).

He constricts himself like a snake,
and lets himself bleed,
as if all this hurt was not by his hands (callused and uneven and scraped down to bone),
he still cries
as the water rushes down his back
and stings his dull eyes.
He still cries when the hunger grips him and won't let go
even though
he did all this.

The little boy in gray ignores all of this
and continues in his silence
to the outside world,
for he is one among many,
and those others are so worthy.

He doesn't smile often,
and when he does it is flitting,
and even though I long to ask how he is doing,
I cannot seem to battle down
the commotion in my head and the terror in my chest
because I think he knows my secret
and I cannot put my fears to rest.
He never did anything wrong,
but I heard him say he might become a man of God,
and so often they decide that their beliefs are worthier than my rights,
so I still cannot stand near him without feeling drained
just to be filled up with dread and anxiety.
I hope that he has forgotten,
instead of just opting not to speak.