Since when did a letter grade become more important than my personal health? A burnable piece of paper with letter grades and the same teacher comment repeated, became more important to everyone to know my "knowledge". That isn't knowledge if it's just forcing yourself to burn those words formed into a sentence for the definition of a words prefix and suffix. You barely remember anything because you focus on it for a week or two and then never go over it again. But if I oversleep or miss my bus or ride, or if I fall asleep during class or spend the majority of the year in the nurses office it's my fault. It's my fault to show that "HEY I CAN REMEMBER THINGS LOOK SEE I GOT AN A ON SOMETHING I WILL NEVER USE IN MY LIFE OR WILL EVER HEAR OF UNTIL MY KID IS SITTING NEXT TO ME STRESSED AND WORN OUT AND TIRED BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO CLUE ON HOW TO DO THIS AND I CANT DO A **** THING BECAUSE I DONT REMEMBER **** BUT HEY AT LEAST I PASSED RIGHT?"

call me the cancer fairy
i bring burnable gifts of
chronic emphysema and hopeless addiction
with death on your lips
i hope that you think of me
as the cherry ember glows low
and soft grey ash caresses
even softer fingertips
viva la cigarettes! a love story in smoke

It was a perfectly good all-purpose metal trash can. Shouldn't of been haphazardly discarded for the want of a new one. Evidently this was my reasoning at the time as I saved it from oblivion and tossed it in the back of my pick-up truck never knowing the dire ramifications this action would entail.

   Tossed in the back of the truck, rattling around, while Jr. Boy and me mosied down some back road. When our world changed.
That night.
As Jr boy, hiding in the trash can, as the sky fell in firey chunks of read hot magma burning and incinerating everything.  Flames leaping as any thing flamatory flamed, anything burnable burned.  Soon digging holes for water, eating bugs for food But surviving.  
For want of a trash can.
You carry on Jr boy. Your daddy loves you.  The world needs you.

When problems arise in my life
i tend to boot my best mate
and make poetry my best friend
cuz' when the size of my strife
is this big..
i find letting a sole piece of paper
Carry such a boulder
works much better

so recently
i've tried to let paper carry everything
and recently
Mr. Paper has dropped a lot of heavy things
because paper is tear-able
water soluble
burnable
breakable
and a list of other things
that make it absolutely terrible
for carrying physical
objects not summed up in grammatically
and emotionally
ordered sentences
or words hap-hazardously
strewn against a milky white canvas

Paper really is only good for catching
the thoughts that are weighing
your head off to one side
so they spill out of your ears
   it gives you some pride
in your heavy ****** up thoughts
and your slightly lighter
but still ****** up head
by laying the weight out in front of your eyes
and not behind them

But the words don't just fall out
of ears
and onto paper
coated with ink
and stick like good emotions should

no

if they're too heavy they'll rip right though
and then you only have a gaping hole to try and make sense of
try making them run behind your eyelids
have them lose some weight

i know the pain is unimaginable
heavy feet stomping on your nerve endings
that exist right behind your eyes

makes your stomach hurt doesn't it?
makes you cry, makes you scream?
it's worth it
i promise you just hold my hand
and allow these thoughts to lose weight
running on your soul
ironically shaped like a treadmill

you'll know they're ready to leave
when your heavy head sulks
over a blank page
and they spill out of your ears
and leave you light as a feather
to think and breathe easy
again

and you're left with a beautiful organization
of ****** up
nearly obese
thoughts and feeling
caught beautifully onto a piece of paper
and the most beautiful thing to you
is that those thoughts are there
and you are here

trust me
i wish the words just fell out
i do
but the words don't just fall out
until they're ready to

My head feels like cotton.
My limbs are made from wool.
My heart is plastic.
And my soul is easily burnable wood.

I have too many photos of you and I on my phone
they keep on popping up so much now that you’re gone
I just delete them
I don’t wanna see em anymore.
When I open up a page I no longer see your face
but it doesn’t change a thing for me
because I can’t delete our memories
I need to burn some sage just to balance out my energies

So when I miss you I’ll try to remember all of the pain
and when I see you face to face I’ll just look the other way
I still have your jackets
even through your not my guy
I throw it on before I leave
cause it’s getting cold outside

I won’t say you didn’t
deep down I know you tried
but when i tried to get to know you
you recoiled and you’d hide
I don’t wanna play the fool
so I had to let you go
I really wanted me and you
but you never let us grow

I’ll try not to take it personal
and try to be discernible
and dead it like it burnable  but ******* are incredible
I really like your effort
you were an expert at keeping me around
always searching for a love i that found within myself

we don’t talk much anymore but thank you for the help
thank you for the growth
and thank you for the hell

thank you for the hell
I couldn’t do it without you
but now I’m learning to I’m always wishing you the best
and I hope that you progress

cause I couldn't change you
and I shouldn’t want to
but I can’t help but think
we could have avoided all of this pain
but I see you’re still the same
as you were when I met you