Some want to be remembered
for their touchdown record.
Some want to be remembered
for their body count.
Some want to be remembered
for their brilliance.
But I want to be remembered
for my kindness.
I will admit, I look back and remember the boy who always scored the touchdowns that always made our student section roar and fill with happiness.
I will admit, I look back and remember the girls who told funny, yet repulsive stories about their adventures of sleeping with random guys.
I will admit, I look back and remember the brainiacs and how they could make something as minuscule as a piece of gum a deep conversation starter.
But I will also admit, that looking back they have no significance to me.
Looking back, I remember the people who were kind above all else, I think of those people more frequently and hope they are doing well.
I remember those people and admire them for staying positive in a world so hopeless and full of hate and negativity.
I remember those people and feel a little less alone and know that they would be there if I called.
I wonder if those people are out in the world right now, spreading even more positivity and making others feel a little less insignificant.
I aspire to be remembered by kindness.

i like angry poetry
the kind that churns
in your gut,
with razors for teeth
and gums bleeding.
i like the violent sound
of verbs clashing
on a decaying page,
like the shot of a gun
on a quiet day.
i like the poetry that stays,
that lies in waiting
like a dog in a cage,
words that creep like
voided birds into the
wired tress of my brain,
that pay their rent
like drunken travelers
and trash the place.
i like angry poetry
the kind that sears it's
screams to my lips,
which spirit echoes and
moans for eager,
****** eyes.
words that hit like *****,
giving their reader
a killer hangover.
i like angry poetry,
the kind that leave you
with a smoky exit.

the world is your oyster
take the pearl
and I’ll just lie here in the sand
an empty shell
once again

If I could write you a song
To make you fall in love
I would already have exhausted
Every existing note
And created some new ones just for you.
I'd master every instrument
And grow extra arms
So I could serenade you
With a symphony just half as beautiful as your soul.
If I could write you a song
To make you fall in love
I would already have exhausted
Every combination
Of our twenty-six letters.
I'd master every language
And grow extra tongues
So I could serenade you
With a symphony just half as beautiful as your soul.
If I could write you a song
To make you fall in love
It'd be a duet
Because you play too
And I don't like how my voice sounds
Without yours accompanying it.
We'd play together
So we could serenade each other
With a symphony just half as beautiful as our love.