The boy inside my head remembers the girl inside yours.
He wants to tell you that he still loves you...that he'll love you forever.
He wants to tell you he's trapped and all alone.
He sits in his cell scratching the days onto the wall.
He draws pictures of your face and imagines holding your hand.
If he ever gets to talk to you again, he pictures what he'd say...
He would do anything for you to give him another chance.
He knows he's a boy and he wishes he didn't have to be.
But that boy inside his head didn't get a say on if he got to be a boy or not.
He wishes that you'd open yourself up to let him care for you again.
He wishes that you'd let yourself be the reason that he lives again.
He wishes a lot.
He wishes too much.
He fears none of them won't come true but he can't stop because it keeps him alive.
He envisions that chance. That he would take it slow and show you his love.
That it would be the deepest display of emotion ever to come from him.
He knows all too well you're not fond of boys- he's almost sorry he is one.
But he loves you. He loves you so much. You're so beautiful to him.
A beautiful person, not a beautiful girl.
He misses you.
He misses you so much.
The world stops when you hug him.
His heart flutters just thinking about it, still.
You're heavenly to him. You took him places he'd never been before.
Places he may never be again.
You see, he wishes he could put into words for you, the feeling...
He never needed anything more than your cuddles and hugs.
Like a living, breathing, soft and loving security blanket, you were...
Nothing in his life ever more peaceful than your arms or the touch of your lips.
He never needed ***...please don't make it about ***...
What he really needed was you.
He prays to a God he no longer believes in that maybe he could have a reason to believe again.
He loves you, Elizabeth Raine. He loves you so **** much.
He knows that's not enough.
He will never be enough.
You were once the reason he lived...
You're now the reason he wants to die.
You dumped him like utter trash and he still couldn't get over you.
You said things that ripped out his soul. Acted like he had no soul to begin with...
But ******, he loved you. He loves you. Like he promised, he always will.
Your girly parts play no part. He wishes you'd understand how much deeper this is than that.
How much you mean to him.
How much you'll always mean to him, how you'll always be his sweet girl.
At least, how he wishes you'd be his sweet girl once more.
He wishes he could show you...that he could find a way.
Tears roll down his face like the first rain of May.
He just wants to be enough to experience heaven one more time...
I'm afraid to inform him that heaven's long gone...
Its not even in existence to experience anymore...
But he'd **** himself...I can't push myself to let him know...
He bought a ticket to hell.

Dear Uncle Tom,

You have disguised yourself well.
For a moment, I didn't even recognize you.
Perhaps when you put on that suit, you too,
Forget that your reflection is a sad black man.

At first I was mad, Uncle, I thought how could you
To see you spout the lies of people who held,
Your own family down. Oh Uncle, I was so mad.
Denying your flesh, for a seat at the table.

But then I was sad, Uncle, so sad for you.
I really don't think you get it, or at least I hope.
Perhaps you suckled on ignorance and the ways
Of the world robbed you. Stole away your kindness

I really hope you'll change, because you are family.
But once you sold us out, I almost filled with rage
And to tell me you're proud I fight, and to undo
The work we've  done. ****** I don't understand.

You have to see it someday, the way they call you
Names. Treating you like an animal, no matter what Suit you fawn. They look to you and use you.
As weapons against your blood. Such a shame.

Well best regards Uncle,
Maybe one day you'll change.

Sincerely,
The ones you left behind

Carbon slides furiously over pad
Mad as a Hatter only angrier
Scribbling circles and stabbing the paper
It's so obvious, ******* it!
It's right there in front of you!
Look! Can't you see?
You gesticulate wildly
Silently cursing and trying to send the answer psychicly
Pictionary that ******* game
By any other name would not be any less infuriating
And yet we play it every day
When I say "I think..."
And she says "I feel..."
And we wheel around in circles
To get our point past our own noses
Guessing what the other's prose is
Until we think we know and then...
That's irrational!
This doesn't feel right...
So where do you go
When your words makes sense
But your concepts are lost in translation
When your language fails to convey meaning?
There's an old saying I heard somewhere
If a lion could speak English we would not understand it
Without being underhanded you have to hand it to them
Those old timey folks knew a thing or two
About me and you and the breakdowns in syntax
That afflict us on these occasions
Maybe the only answer is to sit with it
Will you think on it
While I come to terms with how it feels?

I.

Let me tell you right now that red is my favourite colour
But I got it on with blue, some would say that that’s a blunder
I wonder is… infidelity the vibe of this poem?
Some secret guilt in my mind, that I’ve decided to be owning

Up to, I've got to, spill it out of my heart
I've had no idea what to say, but I've commited to start
A statement that’s an indictment to romantic commitment-
So let’s face it: when it comes to love, haven't all of us been sinning?

At some point, nobody can claim to never ever have smirked
At their own version of the colour red in hoping that it might work
Even though your girl’s colour is blue and you know that this much is true…
You kinda now desire sunsets instead of plain skies; and thus seek a more maroon hue


Skies change with the sun, time influences that
But listen, honestly, what I feel, it’s deeper than that

Blue and red seem only to be opposite colours of the visible spectrum
But actually flow into one another, from point A to B, like a pendulum

So my real problem is denial: I'm not really interested in swinging back
Because whenever I see red again…I can't help thinking that blue is just a fade to black.


And black scares me because it represents…
And black scares me because it represents…
And black scares me because it represents…
And black scares me because it represents…


II.

Literature taught me that cheating is immoral but understandable
From the point of Gatsby and Daisy it’s not even that reprehensible
The thing is, I still see the American Dream in another colour
No red, white and blue and great starry flag of wonder

But being honest to the context I should only omit the white
And keep red and blue; so it follows that my greed is merely self-directed spite
In this way I am suggesting a hint of hatred towards myself
As I’m unable to colour-block my view of my colourless self

I mean that I'm disappointed in being able to reduce
Myself to old, novel characters…as a result I have deduced
That blue and red don't matter when my true colours are grey
I’m ashamed in having even having tried (and failed) to pick (just one).
But all the same…


Skies change with the sun, time influences that
But listen, honestly, what I feel, it’s deeper than that

Blue and red seem only to be opposite colours of the visible spectrum
But actually flow into one another, from point A to B, like a pendulum

So my real problem is denial: I'm not really interested in swinging back
Because whenever I see red again…I can't help thinking that blue is just a fade to black.


And black scares me because it represents…
And black scares me because it represents…
And black scares me because it represents…
And black scares me because it represents…


III.

Though I'm still wishing that… her sunset becomes my sunrise, and envelops the sky
But regretting… her blue fades away, painfully, I’m left to die
As the sun will too soon turn to night, driving me to gentle panic
I know this now: colourless people always beg for a rainbow because they can never have it.

...******.

I apologize to blue for making her feel even bluer.
I apologize to red for using her to make me feel better.
I’m sorry to myself for making myself so bitter.
So suddenly has my soul, become colder than this winter...

Thus the part of the poem where I conclude with the theme
Of the echoes within me which of course are only dead dreams
I had looked to you, red and/or blue, in hoping you could redeem
Me to your world of colour. But present reality is different, which can only mean
That...


Skies changed with the sun, time influenced that
But listen, honestly, what I felt, was deeper than that

Blue and red seemed only to be opposite colours of the visible spectrum
But actually flowed into one another, from point A to B, like a pendulum

So my real problem was denial, I wasn't really interested in swinging back
Because whenever I saw red again… I couldn't help thinking that blue was just a fade to black.


And black scared me because it represented…
And black scared me because it represented…
And black scared me because it represented…
And black scared me because it represented…

Please don't **** me

I'm begging for mercy

But I refuse to say sorry

My apology will just be pure denial

Can't you see it's been awhile

Long time coming

I'm still running

Please oh no

No no no god ****** no

I put your name in vain please don't condemn my soul

But they want to take me away

To a place we all will end up

But not like this

No no no

I still won't say I'm sorry

I'm worried

I still haven't been let free

Singe my flesh 

disfigured me

Oh me me me

How ugly me

I'm a monster just unshackle me

So many faces

Pretty faces  but I'm just suffering

Why me me 

Where's my apology

I'm still not sorry

Until you do right by me

No no no ****** no

Skin is burned

Heart is cold

Soul is gray

Why the burden

Keep it burning

But don't **** me

I am begging

But I won't apologize

I won't say sorry

Spare me please

Yes I'm a monster

But you have no right to shackle me

I can't breathe

Let air in

Let me see

It's dark and I'm scared

And I don't care 

Cuz I am a monster

And I won't say sorry

No no no

Where's my apology

Let my bloodline weep and weep for me

But I'm not sorry

And I don't care

Fear has stricken me

But I'm not sorry

Do your worst and I'll wait to bleed

So set me free

But I'm not sorry

none of the editors reside in my head
nor does a matrician's need to coddle
sidestep
be nice
when I see ****** I say that is
******
have no points in the bank for guile
for correctness
for matters are fact
attitudes solid concrete I can see
like windows    on the Trump tower
just hiding ****
brevity usually my habit
and preference
but at times I get windy
flatulent
****** me off when, shew!!               it happens alone
I love to share

Dance with me,
so baby maybe you'll see,
my bright points,
and my poorly rolled joints,
dance with me in every way,
I can hope with your eyes,
and I want you to stay,
going through a beautiful loop,
we try not to,
take your hand and dance in lieu,
the fact I never could stay,
but in the end I'm just a child,
and I'll always be this way.
Marry me.

I watched him
sneer at his
plan gone a-rye
he was uptight
and outspoken;
the worst kind

as the ribbons
tore and frayed
he gritted his teeth
until it was too
much and he lunged
at the young man,
grabbed him by the
throat while screaming
"IV'E HAD IT GOD ******!"
"I'VE HAD IT WITH YOU
MANGY *******!"

many years later
I saw the uptight
outspoken man
on a street corner,
laughing at clouds

Stepping oot into the air,
and it burns your lungs so you question your dare,
in particular there is no where,
that is pushing you oot there,
but a when,
the dark street adds and takes away,
as film reels play blue memories from brighter days,
were they really that great?
because you were still walking late,
when it was still cold,
but the reels dont stop,
and the nostalgia makes you check the clock,
to make sure your still in the right tight time
turn off the films, put 'em back in the corner of your mind
where they always reside,
and just go back inside.

This block that’s been haunting me
I finally know what it is
It’s not that my thoughts have ever ceased to exist
(no matter how hard I wish)
My truth
Has never been poetic.
My 4 shots of honesty
Are tucked under unclean bed-sheets
Collecting dust
Because I haven’t found a soul
With good enough reason to trust

I work with formulated brushstrokes
My polished softer madness
Because I’ve been told that
This much eye contact makes you
Uncomfortable
That sometimes
I say the things
that you didn't
want to (or know how)
to hear
not sweet enough
for you to swallow
So shove it down my throat
with a gleam in your eye
you gloat
like you actually think
you’ve solved my mystery

I
have covered up
every last shadow
of sincerity
every vicious glimmer
of your fingerprints
marring the fabric
of my skin
my canvas
my natural form
is your sin

I shudder to think
That I’m waiting
For my censored text to be read
Waiting for repercussions
Of wounds that I’ve already bled
My truth
Is that I blurred through the boundaries
Between memories and lies
That I often can’t remember
What I made up and why
there was so much to
cover up
with false nostalgia

my heartache
is
that there’s no logic behind that
no reason to
forget how to feel
to go three days
with my eyes glazed
until I can grasp on
to what's real
a patched up framework of sane
and I want to see blood
to feel purpose for pain

Every time my tremors
Shake in new directions
I want to cry because
That’s just one step further away
from perfection
Playing pretend
Was just imagination
until it was dysfunction
and I set fire to my lungs
Because no matter what
I was never good enough

I choke on my breath
And the burn of swallowed blood
too warm
out of place
like a breeze to the bone
Dripping past the place that
Your name once called home
I still visit
The grave of a legend
In my body
So heavy with the weight
Of lives I never lived

It was never like
The words I so hopefully drowned in
The promises that
my fears were unfounded
That no one could really
Be alone
Not like this
Not like
Being left to remember your kiss
Not like
Nail marks in the palms of clenched fists
Not like fading in and out of dreams
Asking myself
Which reality is this?
Untangling from cold sweats
With the ringing in my ears
Reminding me ruthlessly
That god ****** I’m still here
And you’re gone

I hate that “I miss you”
Is mistaken for cliché
But it’s my truth
It’s my indescribable
My engulfing
My around every corner
Over and over
Your absence impacts like a train
stolen months
dripping in honey sweet
hope
we were my first us
it's hard to find salvation
when your
foundation gives up

My anger
Is sharp breaths
It tastes like
***** coming out my nose
Splashing against my skin
It burns a little like
Bee stings
Coming up my throat
And a whole lot less
Than the loneliness

That vacant isolation
That booms so stubborn
Trying to heal
from numb
Reminding me that
Summer by summer
I become something
That I wont
be willing to save.
At this point
I'm not sure what I crave.
it feels like thunder
on the horizon
of my intangible
you are so much more
than a metaphor
for how perspective
is flammable
but my story
was never about you

birthed from ashes
I am
your favourite taboo

This world is so messed up
So fallen
So cracked
Robbed
Objectified
Run by greed
Lust (A different type of greed)
I don't even watch the news
Because it's all
Pain.
And it hurts me.
Because I feel guilty for it.
All of it.
I live a normal life
By many standards
But it is so privileged.
I have the luxury to whine about my own problems.
I should be out helping people
Not sitting at my computer
Writing "poetry"
Yuck
I'm such an idiot.
I cannot work yet
Even drive on my own
Why is that limiting me?
I want to HELP PEOPLE
Save people.
Though I like learning things
I shouldn't be in school
When there's so many people without FOOD
Without HOMES.
Who am I to complain about my
Tiny problems?
My life is run by greed.
That's all there is to it.
But I can't escape.
My regrets constantly grow
And maybe when I get a chance
I can HELP PEOPLE.
Somehow.

the more i try the more it just feels false
my words come out and just like that I freeze-
i regret what I say and keep silent around everyone
then the silence catches up with me
and infiltrates my mind

why did i speak why did i have to be
me, what is it about my existence
that makes life so ******* difficult to
to speak to think to form a sentence or two
why is something so simple so complex

you have kind eyes
i’m not saying anything more except
that’s
that’s what attracted me -
not in a romantic way or
any way at all
just a friendly way i guess,
so some sort of way it turns out,
a really random way or
completely accidental or
oops there goes my mind again

but i can’t help it when there’s someone new
who tolerates me to the point of tears
then drops me on my *** and forgets
i’m even here

i dont trust very easily but i want to trust you,
my eyes want to cry and my mouth wants to speak
but see what happens when the two collide?
this.
this is what happens and
this is how i lose people and
this is how i live
because i’m afraid of being left behind or disliked
because it’s not every day someone with kind eyes
shares an ounce of of their kindness by looking into my
own
kind
eyes

dear god please don’t **** this up
i know i’m an atheist but
****** atheists have some kind ******* eyes

I barely went to school
And was baptized underneath a rain gutter
But I promise
Despite my upbringing
I will die a poet

Birds never studied music
Nature never rough drafted its deformations
Including me
I was born perfectly broken
With heart in throat
And head in clouds
And head in ****

And head

Head everywhere else but center
Hands anywhere but to myself

I dare you to stop pumping fuel
Into my mouth’s motor
Dare you to make fun of me
For my special education
For my short bus
******
My education was special

I learned to walk on two feet
When I should have had four
And I learned
How to stop myself from crying
When I found out not everyone is going to love me

I’ve learned the language
Of your laughter
And can translate your sighs
To mean anything
Right now they are the exhalation of ghosts
You no longer wish to hold on to

Let them go
Let go of your ghosts
And don’t settle for anything less
Than the silence of your soul
As it leaves you
Take this poem with you when you do
It is a love note
Sending Saint Peter home

All are welcome here

Especially you

I mean
Nobody’s perfect
Especially poets
I’m not perfect
Which is perfect
Because that means
I can die
A poet

I'm getting desperate cuz I'm getting distant.
The royal coachmen is the trailer park I used to live in.
Pinecones, stray cats and the candy man.
In the kitchen I dug a hole for a mouse to live in.  
For God's sake momma, could you puke a little quieter, don't let dad know you're sick cuz this house isn't a home when you're gone.
Cold mornings ****** doo blankets and hospital beds.
Dad tells me mom is sick again.
The hospital is no place to live in.
God ****** dad step up, make this a place to live in.

At 5 years old, my momma asks her momma to move in.

I'm getting distant cuz I'm getting desperate.
A little town named Charleston.

When you walk up the side walk and you see the willow, just know it's weeping because it's heard everything.  

Just to let you know there's a piece of glass in the side walk, not diamond.
I know that cuz I bent too many butter knives trying to make a fortune.

Yellow walls, barn cats and god.

It took me 12 years to find somewhere to believe in.

My frown couldn't be more prominent as I stare out of my passenger window
Cloudy skies with heavy rainfall, in a cab in traffic just has my mood plummeting
As if I was ever really happy to start
I sigh as I think that..
Have I really been unhappy my whole life, with just good moments in between?
No. I shake my head to myself.. That can't be right
I gasp as the driver suddenly slams on his breaks
"Sorry" he mutters along with a few other choice words
I'm so lost in my tangled thoughts its only a slight distraction
The airport is only 10 miles away but,
It seems its going to take 10 hours to just get there
I slam my head back against the seat
******! Rolling my eyes heavily, I grimace at my own brain
Won't you shut up?!
Yes I know things will never be resolved with my "father"
On his death bed, he'd still only manage to say "I'm still sorry you feel that way."
His family will  look at me as if I haven't done enough to change things...
**** them.. I'm not a magician. And **** if I didn't spend most of my life trying to be one
I swallow that lump in my throat
Just another dad topic to fill the session when I see my therapist
"Can I smoke in here please?" I ask/beg the cab driver
The traffic isn't the only thing congested and I need some relief
Not pleased he agrees... After I slip a $20 in his face
As the wind blows my hair around and the smoke clouds my face
I realize I full of way more doubts than I admitted
Is this where I should be headed?
I mean this isn't a dream
It's gonna be real life with all it's pain and lingering stings just like it is here
My pocket vibrates
Blowing out smoke, I cough as I laugh when I read the text
"I will miss you. Text me when you land."
YOU
You would text me as I'm about to be 1000s and 1000s of miles away from you
I can't help but let a tear slide down my cheek
I remember the endless amount that fell when you were the one leaving
Dangling me on that string... Even 5000 miles away
I don't respond
Just like you didn't respond
Maybe to give you a dose of your own medicine
Or maybe because I simply can not allow you to break me down anymore
I flick my cigaret and wipe my cheek with the back of my hand
The phone vibrates again
It can't be you
It's not your style to appear to care that much
I glance down at the screen and this time can't hold back the sob I choke on
"I love you! Have a safe flight, PLEASE text me when you land!" Love Sam
My baby sister
Sometimes my seemingly older sister
Through it all, the heartbreak of such a distance between us is the same
Through a blur of tears I text back that I will, that I love her too
I see the driver stare at me through the rear view mirror
I'm too sad and stiff to bother to wipe my tears away or even turn my head
So I just drop my eyes so I'm no longer holding his gaze
The history between my sister and I is an eventful one
Very colorful
Lots of laughs...Lots of yelling... Lots of tears...
Getting to the place we are now, the place that was so rock solid for so many years
But then crumbled to the ground caused by an earthquake of addiction..My addiction
I couldn't be more thankful to whomever allowed the chance, the power, the love to remind us who we once were
Maybe we just did that
I don't know
The rain has stopped and traffic is flowing now
I feel I may throw up
I'm getting closer
Closer to my new start
But, with so many unknowns and so many things I don't want waiting for me when I get there...
But, wherever you go, there you are
Ill be there...Waiting for me
I'm just hoping ill give myself a chance before I want to run back the other way
That's what I'm doing.. Everyone says so
"You're running.""Can't run from yourself."
I smirk as I wonder if these ******* with all the advice ever considered if they DROVE me out...
Not that I ran out
Fair weathered friends weigh you down after awhile
The broken promises
The appearing in the light and disappearing when it gets dark
Starts to make my heart ache so bad, it feels hard to breathe
My head pounds as I'm always questioning why they don't want me
What could I do to be better?
I close my eyes
Too tired to think about it further
So tired of having to think so hard
So tired I'm too tired to demand to be treated better
So **** em works
I'm tired of trying, of trying to try
Just done
There's gotta be so much more to life than this..
That I have to try and discover
Startled by the vibrating of my phone again, my eyes pop open as I jump a little bit
"Can't wait to see you! Have a safe flight. Love you! See you at the airport."
I shake my head smiling
My mom always seems to make me smile when I'm drowning in a sea of misery
"I can't wait to see you. You have no idea." I whisper to myself, laughing to myself as I start to cry again
This cab driver must think I'm insane
This time I pull out some tissues and clean myself up
Take a deep breath and force a smile
Everything's going to be ok
This is gonna be the move into the right direction
Where ill find myself again and the path I belong on
Even if it doesn't end there, it'll start me to where my life is meant to go
Everything's gonna be ok.. It's gonna be...
"Miss...Miss...We're here."
I snap back into focus as the drivers voice drills through my brain
I swallow a lump again, nod and mumble an apology for not paying attention
Fumble for my wallet and pay the ridiculous fare, thanks to all the traffic
Luckily I travel light
I grab my suitcase and my dog crate
(She's got the worlds biggest "oh ****"eyes right now)she'll be happy up there
That I'm sure of
I'm standing there, still, ignoring the weight of the crate and my suitcase
The wind sends a shiver down my spine, I shudder
It seems to bring me back into reality
I take another deep breathe and force a smile
I promised myself I wouldn't look back
So I don't
The glass doors slide open.. As if to say "Everything's gonna be ok."
I let the tear slide down my cheek and walk on through

Out of everything I saw, I remember
the thumb.
Swollen and lopsided.
There it was, conquering the wires--red, blue, and green,
commandeering the clear tubes coated with stomach bile.
And the nail. What a healthy nail.
A pink rosebud with cuticle trim. Piqued with a white crest, curling.
Prime for at least fifteen more back scratches.
A drawerful of button-ups.
Pockets of heads and tails.
You can do it, Grandma.
One, two.
Heads, tails.
Up, down.
Up for braid, down for bun.
Braid? Yes. Braid.
And then there are two small thumbs bumbling through foreign terrain.
The braidee now braiding. The baby,
aging.
Tucked in, lulled by echoes of strange mothers. Bleeping pressures, sugars, drawing lines and colors.

But you have me.
And I have this thumb,
hidden under mine.
I’ll keep it safe for you, here in this shadowed palm—sanctified, secret dome.
I’ll protect it from the unhooked jaw.
From placid flesh curtains, over a damp backstage.
White light hanging over the insect—splayed on a lightning-gleamed car windshield.
I’ll hide it away.
Intermission.
Hush now.
Quiet, you. The show is not yet done.
And ******, it won’t be. Not with this thumb.
Not on my time.

I bite it.
At you. Skyward you.
Elusive and slippery. Shiny, rubber-like, all but new.
A blank belated card, lost in the mail.
What it might have said,
had I left a forwarding address.

But we’re here now in this dark hand cavern.
Tucked away, safely in lines.
Those of the palm.
Of tree rings.
Of love songs, and
Pretty things.
Lines, like wires
red, green, and blue.
They bring me closer
And closer
To the thumb.
Fat, with shiny aged skin,
stretched new.
And suddenly, I’m
Old.
Numb along one side.
Useless and dumb.
A limp puppet
plunked down
during intermission.

God ******, Molly
God ******
I sailed out to sea with you because
You were afraid of exploring the world alone
And that
Is when I learned that I couldn't swim
And you let me drown

I don't know how much guilt you've felt in the last year but
It was pretty ******* ****** sitting at the bottom of the ocean
Waiting and hoping that you would save me

Of course you didn't.

I still don't know if I've been saved because sometimes the bubbles that come out of my mouth only float up.

i've had a
good day

remembered
to water my
plants
drank two cups
of coffee
didn't feel the
irrepressible need to
scream at my family
drowned in a
stranger's spaghetti

(okay so maybe
i could have lived
without the whole
swimming through pasta
it starts to wrap around
and choke you after awhile)

found out that
apparently i'm
the nicest person
at work because
i'm the only one who
doesn't want to
throw karen out
the picture window

(i mean i do
i just don't admit it
because that
would be mean.)

i kept looking up
to the bells on the door
remembering yesterday
when i saw the face
of one of the dearest
ladies i've ever known

(i don't know if
she saw me)

and then for some
reason she turned
directly around and
rushed down the
front steps and
didn't come back in

maybe it wasn't her
maybe an emergency
but the question's
eating at me.

slipping back and forth
here and there
into the mindset that maybe
i owe it to them

(i don't want to go
anywhere on monday
nights but i don't
want to tell you that)

then hitting myself
in the head because
what have i been
saying so long?

i don't owe
anybody anything.

i've had a
good day
or a day
that wasn't bad

(just tied my
spine into knots
and i tried the
downward dog
but the dog
knocked me down)

so i'm not sure
why the veins in
my arms are aching
and the muscles
in my elbows
compressing

as if
even

like i'm not
brutally aware
that my wrists are
not currently
available for
extended slitting

so i don't
know why
they're so
upset

then again
i don't
know why
i'm so
upset
either

i mean
i've had
a good day
******.

Came across her she's a crossfire
my head came screaming to a halt
Raced over to the wall phone
So I could run and rush the start
started thumping like a kick drum
Began a breathin' rhythm rush
Oh lord please make me smart

How do I keep that gal around
Enough with the pretense
I'm finished with those roles
My frown turned into smiles
Oh casting director please give me this part
Went walking out the back door
Rifled through my backpack
Smoke racing though my lungs
I'm gonna have a cardiac
"Nurse, please get me a Nurse"

Be Still, My Heart
Please don't let her know
I'm nothing, she's a work of Art
Oh ******, Oh Me
Coach called up the best
Oh Golly Oh Gee

There's thunder down the train tracks
Wish we were wading down the stream
Instead this boy's a *******
Can't tell if he's drunk or in a dream

Did you hear her brilliance?
****** hell yes I did
Don't pull any punches boy
Don't pull that **** again

Lost all my paychecks
When I lost my mind and head
It seems like I lose myself
Even though I've found a payoff
That I'd like to never spend
She's a swing-dancing genius
She's a beauty to behold
She called me a smart man
Even though I feel like a five year old
Check bouncing boy *******
Checked his Ego at the door
Even though he found himself asleep
On the bathroom floor

Can't tell if I need a head shrink
Nah, It's something much worse
Someone put me to sleep
So I can carry off that nurse
My brain's drag racing
Across these lines over this page
Once again Boy *******
Has his head rattling in a cage

Be Still, My Heart
Don't let me ***** this up
Way before this even starts
Oh Me, oh My
I think I've hit the jackpot
But my mind's a Pecan Pie

Be Still, My Heart
Please don't tell her
that She's caused a burning heart

I'll wake up tomorrow
I'll call her first thing
Even though She'll be sleeping
I'll leave a message for the future
To the woman of my dreams

snap goes the bones and the
self esteem watch it's disintegrating soul
the lies and truth it holds
and the physicality unfolds

snap

the bruises remain bold
whether you can see em or not
black and blue- the color purple
is my camouflage

snap

snap goes the crackle and pop
it's got the veins running on adrenaline
pretending it lacks what I can do is save other people in the struggle
or change the planet
but I can't even help myself god ******

snap

snap goes the heart
**** the insults
**** the compliments
i just want some common sense
I tried to stay strong but I wanted it all
I guess just watch these London bridges
f a l l

snap

snap goes your fingers to rhythm and flow
slap goes your palms to something other than countertops at bar spots
not so fast- it isn't the Beat Generation
I'm convinced you live in the past

snap

I'll be ****** if this is forever
because I have a head full of poetry
yeah. **** me. I can't stop these
similes and hyperboles
literary insomniac

snap

and I'm going to open a map to
snap back into reality
where fear and pain reside here
but one day they won't find my tracks
relax and forget
because Im never coming back

snap.

you could knock
me over with a
puff of smoke

you know why
i've had a headache
in my sinuses
for three days?

it's from forcing
tears to
stay
up there

you could knock
me over with a
puff of smoke
but please don't

i hate
feeling
this way

weak

weak

weak

i feel
weak ******

like you could
knock me over
with a puff of smoke
and i wouldn't
be able to
get back up

and i hate
feeling
this way

worn down
like an old
washcloth
more holes
than fabric
begging
to be
ripped in half

weak
if i open my
mouth to
speak
i will be
drowned
out in my
own sobs

wanted to believe
i was strong
as strong as
any man out there
but if i can't even
speak how can
i possibly be
that strong?

weak
my body is tired
my mind is tired
my emotions are tired
and worst of all
i'm weak

and you could
knock me over
with a puff of smoke
and i will break

*i hate feeling
weak ******

He utters “A reading from the acts of the Apostles.”
We are his people,
the sheep of his flock and
we don’t even fancy sheep.
I wake my mother at the sermon
“We’ll talk at the end of mass,”
we never do.
Putting our hands together for a
for a pointless chant,
I pick off little white hairs from my jacket.
******,
focus.

My mother frowns and pulls the
dress over the run in my stockings
The speakers lisp blurs everything except
Grow up, go to school, go to church.
Go to college, make love.
Wait,
don’t do that.
Make kids, buy a dog,
promise not to cry if it dies.
Or if the dog dies too.

******,
focus.
Bountiful baldlessness as men earning their halo’s
pat the thinning hair beneath them.
Thanks be to God.

Neither girl nor male… So what am I? Am I the so-called perv aiming to invade the wrong bathroom? Am I a heretic aiming to impose my wickedness onto the world? Am I the clocking stares they give me? How about the result of a broken home or a broken heart? Does my mere existence force you to reevaluate your identity? When all I'm trying to do is figure out mine. Neither girl nor male… So you tell me where I am to relieve my bowels. Or am I to stitch them shut for your comfort? While I'm at it, shall I stitch my eyes shut as to not burden you with running mascara; which further assaults my "feminine façade"? I'm sorry to burden you with my fake *****, of which a second of labor (turning your head) would relieve you of your distress. I'm sorry you'd rather slave away starring and clocking them. Clocking me. I am sorry that I was born male yet refuse to live up to such expectations. I am sorry that despite my best efforts I cannot pass for how I feel. Believe me—for the life of me—I am trying. As punishment for lack of natural *******, I stretch my skin to form a pleasing cleavage. As punishment for having the wrong body type, I wear a cage around my abdomen two sizes too small that cuts into my rib cage dare I seek the comforts of sitting down. As punishment for being born with a male anatomy, I crunch my disheveled sack of nerve endings between my chaffing thighs. Dare my body have the audacity to ***** itself for any reason I bend the muscle, in such a way never intended, between my legs just to have one less aesthetic reminder as to what I am not. Your clocking stares painfully remind me that I may never be seen as how I see myself. But ****** do I try. Until I do, I am condemned to be neither male nor… female.

you have married me
married my spirit
called it to life from death
and bound it to you
flaming
hot
waking each limb
sensation
thought
vibration
atoms in unison
singing the cosmic rotation
"You make my life a love poem."

I draw on your back, you play with my hair
I take a shower, you stretch endlessly on the bed
I try not to look, but **** girl
I can’t exactly hide this ****-eating grin on my face
It’s a good thing you don’t notice... ****.
Oh well, back to the old drawing board
I come out, you stretch again
All I see is pure... beauty.
Staring me in the face.
You like when I notice that.
Star Wars shirt before I go to work with no underwear on?
******.
Now you’re just trying to **** my **** up ...
And today I’ll be at work...
Thinking...
About how hot of a roommate I have...
and ******* STAR WARS.

Mona.
Lisa.
Lee-ah
nardo
how do
YOU know
my mom.

I remember having
pizza
with ya the other night,
we watched
the "Da Vinci Code"
after we had that fight,
about Montauk
hotdog tripe flavored ice cream.

Even the audience
doesn't think that's yummy!

You taught,
me how to knit
chocolate and wish
upon the sun.

Did you mom?
Am I your son?
I'd prefer pecon pie.
No-body likes
pecans in my family.
Did Leo
like legumes ?
******,
I may always
be cursed
with writing words
that make reference to obscure
astrology.
My apologies to his
groupies who think he's
the best ******* art-east
since slice bread.
But how would it
feel to had some dude who
painted your mom
and it was
the big-gust
most successful
commercial success
through out
time?

Eighteen
Such a strange age
Want to be free
Afraid to leave the cage

Too young to be old
Too old to be young
Too little to spend
Too much to learn

Afraid of the future
Long to be in it
Flightless birds
in a sky with no limit

Nothing to do
So we cry
Nothing to live for
So we die

Addicted to depression
This covid generation
Craving some attention
Looking for clarity
In this lonely,loveless Eden
Zoo animals thrown into wild
Without any preparation

Hate our parents
Hate the world
Hate ourselves
Issues of dearth

Want to do so much
So we do nothing instead
Feeling so tired
Of being so useless

Yes,we have dreams
Atleast I remember that we do
What are they exactly but
We haven't got a clue

Something in between
First-time adult,last-time child
Most of the times we do nothing
But somedays we wanna be wild

Staring emptily into the void of insta
For that rush of dopamine
Too afraid to be bored
Young,dumb and serene

Simultaneously thinking
We are better and worse than our true selves
In search for salvation
On video game shelves

I'm so confused
This way or the other
Too dumb to know the answer
Too proud to ask my mother

All the friends
have suddenly become so strange
Acting so different
Singing odes to hell

Everyone else,
so figured out
Me and my friends
surrendered to doubt

Life-changing decisions
And dank memes
Not know what we are feeling
Not knowing what we want
Not knowing who are

Since we have so much time
We love to waste it all
Give me a friend to talk to
There's too much going on

Waiting for the revolution
Watching tiktok on the computer
Reading novels on socialism
What is your political compass?

Hearing the same song again and again
Left wing or right wing,which path do we take
Contemplating the economy,measuring the pain
Doing silly trends,to be up with our friends

Gold fish attention span
Choose a poison,choose a clan
We have so many plans but don't ask our plans
Be obnoxiously silent or be obnoxiously loud
Time to get real,time to fool around

Learning about the world
It seems awesome and f-ed up
The adults have ruined it
Now we have to clean up

Confusion is an ally
We are *****,young teens
Oh no,******
Feelings of love begin

Hey god if you are real
Can you email me the address
Because I am unable to find the pincode
of true happiness?

Take us to the yesterday
Take us to the future
What to do,what to do
Killed by confusion
Dont judge,you were once like this too

I don't know what I want to mean
But I get a pass
I'm confused,I'm eighteen

You cannot understand us
Because neither can we
Que sera sera
Whatever will be,will be

(Note-the poem may feel repetitive because so is life)