i hate being a girl I hate it they all made fun of me its not fair I asked to use the computer so I could run the program and none of them would let me and when I cried the instructor made me sit out I hate it I wish I was a boy I hate being a girl

i put my hand in your sweatshirt pocket
but you drop your hand to the side
it hangs there

there are no mutual feelings between us
the numbness is all we have in common

i can see my breath in the icy air
we are all alone

we do not talk
it isn’t awkward
i can finally breathe

i started jump-roping again
twice a day two hundred times each
i do sit-ups at night
400 times each
it hurts so much it takes so long
and it does nothing i check 4 times a day and it does nothing
why did U lie to me
numbers take over my life again
do U remember when i was a child? innocent, sweet, uncaring



yeah, neither do i

bathing in the sunshine,
it pours down on me in a cascade //
lovely summer days end with drifting off into the horizon //
where the moon hangs limp like the leaves on the trees //
and i promise you that when you walk into the storm //
there will be a golden sky

oh, my sweet!
tender hearted darling
your soft hands,
your warm smile,
your birdsong laugh
sets my heart aflutter

serenade me,
drape me in your honey sweet voice
let me take up space in your tender gaze
simply being in your presence
is to be surrounded by home
you turn the key
and my heart kicks to life
a rusty thing,
but for you it shines golden

noun

1. there’s water in the stars, and when it over flows it rains fire down upon us. it scared you once, and now pink scars run rivers down your cheeks.

2. maybe someday you’ll overflow just like the stars, and hell will bubble out of your mouth and onto the ground. there will be fire all around us and god will say, you have fire.

3. when you fell you reached up and your candle-wax rosaries burned all of time and space stored inside your brain, the records kept for nothing. and god will say, you have the end.

4. i walk miles of sand, half finished mirages in my wake as my heart beats to the vacuum of space. at night, if you look up, there are no gods there. you want him to say, here are the flames and here is the end, you want him to say you can die now. but there are no gods anywhere.

I thought about kissing you today, and yesterday and the day before that. I know I'll think about kissing you tomorrow and the day after that, and the days after those days.

My favorite day of the week is Thursdays because I go to see you and we aren't alone but I get to see U and U are always so warm and smell like fabric which is a really nice smell cos it reminds me of Jo Anns idk what I am even saying I think I have a crush on you but probably not I just like you a lot I'm not used to having friends but I do like it a lot when you hug me idk

people are puzzles
(and i solve them)

i won’t even let anybody take U away from me i promise
i promise i won’t tell anyone about U
U can be my secret i promise please don’t leave me i need U i have nothing

strike me down with an arrow
make ribbons out of my bones
call my mother every time i die
tell her the weathers fine
and call on god to smite me
(strike me down, strike me down)

i know what U did U think i don’t remember what U did but i do i hate U and the way U make me feel you took my childhood away from me it’s not fair i want to be like other people and i want to be normal and i want to be a kid but i can’t U made me grow up i’m not ready it’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not fair

ˈpridē boi/
noun

1. The world is not a love poem. When people think of you, they think of all the stars in your eyes. How they want to see space through your perspective.


2. They love you, do they do not know why. You are polarizing but with two broken halves. They feel butterflies of great endearment fluttering in their stomachs, the kinds that strangers might call destiny. the love of the curious for the curiosity.

3. Roses and dandelions. The air smells like fresh milk and lilac perfume. When we think of you we think of Their words, that seem to come through the mist. All those forgotten flowers. What was allowed and what wasn’t?

4. Electricity in your veins and stars in your eyes. Do you miss the wind or do you miss the flames? Maybe we’re all cabinets of wonders.

ˌäkwəməˈrēn/
Noun

1. Fill your pockets. Can't you help but think it matches the blue of their eyes?
it litters the beaches of your old hometown. Forget about suspicious coincidences and run.

2. the ocean is to misty to reclaim the fruit it had beared. Eat the gemstones like ice. Won't it make you young?

3. They speak to you in the trunk of your car. Remember that not just any rocks match eyes so perfectly. Think Insanity. think destiny. throw out your torn dress and join the sea.

i think about her all the time and idk why we were at this museam for school and the fishtank reminded me of her because it was made of beautiful blues and plants and fish and shes complicated and beautiful like that and we went on the roof where there is a greenhouse and I wanted to stop and look at every flower because it reminded me of her they are all so pretty and shes so pretty and I've never thought about bone of my friends this much before maybe shes my best friend

ˈhəkəlˌberē/
Noun

1. instead of lipstick drink in the blood and let it stain your skin. Don't tell anyone the purple hue of your lips isn't from face paint.

2. Run in the fields like you have never run before. Gentle, gentle. The brambles will scratch your skin.

3. Return with cuts and tears in your flesh and fill up chocolate domes with the crushed bodies. Lick your blood stained lips and sell your candies to tourists.

nāl/
noun

1. Click clack, click clack. Her long pointed fingernails are painted red. silk red, strawberry red. Maybe their painted with paint, maybe their painted with blood. They knock on your door. You know about the poison in her polish.

2. The final end to your books. A period to finish the rambling sentence that was your existence. As we place you in your metal box to rot nobody weeps. The final nail in your coffin goes in sideways.

3. nobody stays for the reception.  as you are lowered she throws a rose. It matches the color of her fingernails. click clack, click clack. We pile dirt onto you. So much dirt. I wonder how you will get out now.

/silk/
noun

1. Promise the wind and the moon that you will be there. They will be waiting. Touch the fabric of your dress over and over in your nervousness. Watch the ends fray.

2. Days pass. Nights pass. The wind and the moon continue to whisper among themselves. Feel the light of the stars. Doesn't it feel familiar? Touch the braids in your hair over and over. What are you missing?

3. delicate. wish for all things blue and white and red. Pretend you can't hear the voices that have come. they are still waiting.