Layne is cool
Awfully sweet
Yes, a jewel
No more deceit
Even god knows

Radical girl
Under that brain
Divulged a pearl
And curing pain.

I think she's smart
She makes great art.

Can I speak more?
Or am I done?
Oh I feel poor
Layne is fun.

Duh, she's the queen
Under a crown
Dressed so pristine
Envious gown.

My chicken on the vegetable plate I just prepared is getting cold
I write with no music
One of the longest yet
I warned you.
Regardless of where or how you lay your head
I know. You know. We
No, no we.
You were never my we.
This past week, moments involving right now, my path
They all shook my hand, pulled me aside
To tell me that I'm headed in the right direction
That I'm the kind of person they are looking for
Went so far as to say I'm a genius, a revelation
But you had to be the first to tell me you said so
In all those other synonyms.

I think, I was right in my instinct today
My instinct of showing up, face to face
You wouldn't have dealt with it
Any other way, telephone syndrome
Little boy, lost little boy
Syndrome.

I shredded up your note, dumped out all the red wine
You love to give and take away, all of the time
Your mouth twitched tonight
You stared and looked at me
As if you may never see me again
"Your eyes look tired today"
But I looked cool, you said
I scrounged around on hot coffee and deviled eggs
I sat at the table for about 4 hours
I look back now, I made so much progress
Anxiously waiting for you to come downstairs
You couldn't even stop by to say hello
You told me I could come outside if I wanted.

We rode on the train
I stopped you a couple of times in the freezing street
Thinking maybe, weakness and your love
Filling and driving your face
But you had stayed up late in the night
Drank too much
After you stopped answering me
Told your best friend, who kissed me on the lips
Which now seems like centuries ago
And decided once again
Decided once again
Decided once again
LOOP LOOP LOOP
LOOP LOOP LOOP
LOOP LOOP LOOP
Dear God, Layne Marie
He told me he was so sorry "Layne"
On the train.
My name is *******
Layne Marie.

Can that just be it?
Can we really just be done now?
Little green jacket, your chest hair peeking out
You looked at me as if I was gone forever
"And then the swan flew away"
You said you would tell your children someday
I'm a fable, I'm a tale
And thats all I will ever really be to you.

I removed myself from the group
I cut ties like syringes filled with *******
It wasn't enough that you held my face
That one night in February.

You stopped commenting on my poetry
No matter how hard I tried, no matter how MUCH
I stapled or repainted my face, or us
I never saw another poetic thought out of you.

I knew I had to go
I knew I had to be through
As I called you on the phone one last time
And you had trained yourself to sound so removed
Another woman from your past, you intend to be around
Tonight, something may happen, something may not
You called me two days ago to reassure me
To reassure me
To reassure me
LOOP LOOP LOOP
Stuck in reverse
Stuck in reverse
Stuck in reverse.

I didn't have anything sharp enough
So I scratched myself good with some tweezers today
Before my little interview which of course went so well
Before sitting and waiting for death
For the death of us
For the death of us.

Long overdue
Me flying, and flying away
Was so long overdue
I've been here, and I've been here
And I've begged you to really see me
Your eyes looked so sad on the train
But your voice convinced us both
To walk away.

I got off the train
I didn't look back at you until right before I walked through the doors
You tried to look pleasant
Like this wasn't the end of the end
I know exactly what my face looked like
Old Hollywood sorrow mixed with swan freedom.

My mother says we will look back and laugh at this
At you and how I lost myself in the storm of newness
But I wish you all goodness
But dear Zak,
My God, I was and am Captain Hook
Thats never going to change
As I step off the train
You remain, a swan tattooed to your ankle
To remember the most romantic love of YOUR
Life.
Loop. Loop. Loop.
3 times the charm.


She flew the coop
And with fury and drive
Went her own way.

I'm not as skinny, and I love my curves.
2. I have less money in my bank account, but it's okay.
3. My tea is better than your's now.
4. I forget what your shoulder smells like.
5. I've had better ***.
6. Our naughty videos make me sad, not turned on.
7. I'm forgetting your family members' names.
8. My hair is darker and my lips are fuller.
9. I don't seek anyone's approval. I am who I am.
10. I've moved twice.
11. I've loved someone other than you.
12. I graduated from college.
13. I'm not afraid of going to your old neighborhood in North Philly.
14. I'm not ashamed of my music aesthetic
15. I love myself..

Potato sacks, we jumped in
I always won the race
First place on my face.

A plaque, a trophy taller than my grin
Ribbons, certificates, medals
In the top 3, I remember the pleasure it brought me
When I would defeat the boys, especially.

Standing in front of a crowd
Here is a story, a story you should hear.
I memorized all these words
My heart so in it all.

Gazing in the mirror of who I am now
Brighten my color up, sweet hair dresser
As deep conversation on life and love
Lick like flames around us
Everyone just wants to be loved
Everyone wants to feel free
Everyone wants what they want
But mostly,
Everyone wants validation.

I sought it out,
Stuck my pinky finger through the holes
Of smoke clouds I denied for two years
Of empty whiskey bottles
Your bitter cigarette kisses
I seem to still haunt myself with
You answer sometimes, sometimes you don't
But I know at the end,
You will always just be happy for me
In the village of you
Filled with only you.

A half empty apartment
A girl from college also goes to Chicago
But I don't feel the need to chase the past
I go my own way.

A moment of remembering this time
Before, a cap & gown
The biggest moment besides marriage
Everyone likes to proclaim
Preach, teach, leech
But we are the generation of change.

I am change.
I am freedom.
I am ******.
I am powerful.
I am a goddess of my own life.

Blonde hairs above lips
Sweating in the sun
Lets not disturb the crowd with music
But I throw down, don't worry
I'm no ******* clown
All the boys and girls watch me
As I dance.

Playing the part of the night
I shudder when insecure boys
Ask me about my acting
As if I were a mannequin
I don't have answers to most things
I don't try to pretend to be wiser than you
But I listen, I feed, and I leave
A positive mark behind.

Validation through whoever you are dating--
A factor, a choice most women seek
But I intellectualize it
No binoculars on my eyes,
In time
Bravery will caress my name.

A dark little abode I've known for so long now
Mama wants to know what I think of her writing
Beautiful, nice repetition, meaning
I text back
I text back
I text back
I text back
I text back
I text back
I text back
I text back
I text back.

Like a flurry of volcanic emotions
I see them, like lost banshees fly past me
I know I'm not alone in this
All the young women and I
We lift our heads up.

Confession:
I thought I would look around at age 24
With my glasses and blonde hair
And I would have it all figured out
But I journey on
Bravery never felt so good.

They can call it what they want
But amidst your pain
You deserved one selfish moment
Call it want you want
But amidst your fury
You blackened the whitest of faces
And they might still make the make-up
But you shook me to the core
Shook me to the bone
Took me to a place of unknown refuge
Took me to a home
We've all left the cradle
But few of us remember the rocking
The serenity sway
We've all been burned
But few of us recognize the flame
Of blue consistency
Memory, always in their favor
When you just need someone
In the present tense
Soak us in tragedy
Leave us with a laugh
I truly hope you've found
Your colored clay
And all your wounds are healed

A family of farmers near there be
That treateth all folk kindily
Who follow by the chapel creed
And gladly lend a hand to those in need
Three brothers are they in truth
No longer in the prime of youth
Though the father is still alive
And longer may he live and thrive

On the corner with his wife there be
A farmer now retired comfortably
Often when he sees folks walk
He stops his car to have a talk
Common sense he has in good measure
And to hear him always is a pleasure

Another farmer too lives off the layne
With his wife, the same again
They have two cottages they rent out
As well as sundry acres round about
Which bring them rent into their hand
And so they live off the fat of the land

A woman lives half way down our layne
Her husband died which was a shame
She must have shed many tears
For he was only sixty-five in years
But she does not live alone
Her daughter lives with her at home
She keeps her house as would a saint
No cracks in walls or flaking paint
Like a wooden ship of old
It faces out on fields that gently fold
Also she has her parents there
In a barn converted with great care

And then we have a bungalow I say
Where the father works on the farm all day
He drives a tractor he calls his own
And they have two boys now fully grown

There is a little cottage at the end
Where the owners like to spend
A day or two to come to stay
For they are vets and work away

Then there is us here as well
But for sure truth to tell
You know me well enough I fear
So I'll not describe myself just here

i was far too kind,
i was far too blind,
insignificant in your eyes,
and it didn't register at all
in my mind.

you're so pretentious and cold,
you think that you're so deep.
you say that i sold you out,
& that i'm just a brainwashed
sheep.

you're only compassionate
when it's convenient for you,
if anyone knows that, it's me.
just a selfish *****, a low life ****,
with a **** personality,
no integrity, or originality.


you will never be kurt cobain,
or layne staley..., sorry to crush your dreams....
but you're just another clone,
in a flannel jacket,  and ripped jeans...

you rant on and on
about what's right and wrong,
please give me a break,
and no, you're not edgar allen poe...
you're just a ******, with an over inflated ego...
you're so low, and fake.

you said you'd come clean,
but i know it's not easy.

you left behind emptiness--
confusion and hollowness,

as we all shuffle about in gloom,
the gloom of remembering you.

maybe it's stupid, after all, i never knew you,
but i distantly care...i do.

you give me hope--
a way to cope.

i almost feel like
your voice is my home.

I am from the outdoors
from Febreeze and smoked salmon
I am from the snow covered hills
and the ice covered lakes
I am from the crowded hockey rink
the cheers and jeers
and the season ticket seats
familiar and worn

I'm from hunting and fishing
from Stacy and Layne
I'm from the military
and bad eyesight
from " 'Merica!", "Let's get DOWN!"
and raps about vicious kitties
I'm from Def Leppard, George Strait
and the Beach Boys

I'm from Hacienda and Chili's
caribou sausage and moose jerky
From the fishing hook my dad
stuck in his finger
The collarbone my brother broke on the ice... twice

This is where I come from
These things are my past
and my present
But the future is in the distance
around the bend
beyond the horizon
And I am eager for it to come

Why do I put myself
In this much pain
I stare at your photo
Like a ****** - insane

It was quite evident as a teenager , drawing Boston's guitar shaped space ship on the back of an English book , playing the opening riff to Smoke on the Water with a broomstick
Hiding in the closet , listening to Kiss's first album , singing in front of the mirror to REO Speedwagon
Bad Company on the eight track in my '63 Ford Falcon , taking a Guess Who album to show and tell in Kindergarten
Reciting every lyric on Three Dog Night albums , Foreigner turned up so loud that the windows would ratttle !
Learning Free songs note by note on the guitar , playing Born to be Wild like I was on a World Tour
My heroes are Page , Scholz , Perry and Geddy Lee ! Soundgarden , Alice in Chains , Mott the Hoople and Queen
Jimi Hendrix bringing his Strat to life , Eddie's blistering fretwork !
Crosby , Stills and Nash , three part Angelic vocal harmonies , Ronnie James Dio wailing like a banshee !
A Gibson through a Marshall , A Fender through a Vox , a Tele through a Peavey , a Rickenbacker through an Orange !
Jim Morrison turning poetry into song , Elton John baring his soul through the piano
Eddie Vedder in a trance on stage , Anne Wilson crying out in pain  , Layne Staley raising the hairs on the back of your neck , the reassuring voices of McCartney and Lennon , every musical note committed to paper by George Harrison
Chris Cornell screaming into the night , the aura of Robert Plant onstage
the sweet guitar work of Eric Clapton , heart wrenching soul of Janis Joplin
The wailing guitar of Robin Trower , the blues power of Rory Gallagher
Siren song of Annie Lennox to the infectious , brilliant lyrics of Tom Petty

Muffled laughter and click, click, click
We have probably listened to this song
At least--50 times together
Reflections in your window of sculpted body
You love it so well, but I love to give you hell
About you needing a strong ******* woman.
Hit play, I can do a dance to make your lips
Drip and get wet.

Long brown hairs found in a ***** kitchen
While you praise me up and down
I can pile it all together, pile us together
But my past, your past--we sweep it outside
Store it in the utility closet, I'll uninstall
Shelves that don't make sense, but I can see
The deep South twirling and dipping me into the midst
Interview me underground, I can see the skyline
But hardly afford--this $12 lunch, with the big wigs
But here I am, playing the part honestly.
As I was awakened this morning,
Knowing you must have been in the next room
Little white night gown and ******* you love
So well, ongoing droplets streaming
But it turns you on, you say
To see me so prettily cry.

"Pretty little Layne."
A scene partner of mine once said, as he wiped the mascaraed tears
From my face, but baby we talk and say
The craziest little things
I can bring you coffee, tell you no, get you going so
That my red wine guides me throughout the night.

A row of blue seats, check your bag, security
Maybe its my face you will hold in your hands
Before you fly to a world I can barely imagine
But while you lay on top of me
Lets taste cupcakes and discuss my dreams
I could make you feel things you never have before.

So come back, come back and find me
I will say it for the last time here, now recorded
In type, text, font, interwebs
Lick me up and down
As I breathe life into a world
Neither of us have known.

Wrote this back in 2013... Wanted to bring it forward to today, August 22,  which would have been Layne Stayley's 50th Birthday.


It was simple at first
I did it on a dare

There's a certain easiness
to difficult dares
when senses are dulled
by alcohol and fame

show me how
that color tastes

It was like
biting into the sun
it burned my tongue
and nothing else
would ever taste the same
or be the same
it calmed the storm
of daddy leaving
it was as if my
new found Catholicism
was a purgatory from where
I could see the bright white
pearly gates of heaven
and feel the chill
of their snow clad bars

colder than
the coldest winter chill

one night in a dream
my father told me
to meet him at the gates
and from that point
I went every night
but he never came
instead he died
and when he died
my dreams died
with him.

bury me softly
in this tomb

I continued to go there
night after night
I desperately wanted
to believe the gates
would lead to heaven
because in hell there's heat
and this place was cold
so cold with no sound
and no light only darkness

I would sit in the cold
for hours, losing all sense
of time, obligations
responsibilities, shivering
and sweating at the foot of
the gates, obsessed with the
furry luster of frozen pearls
the sound of silence and
the subtle shifting of
the weather

holding rare
flowers in bloom

a week, a month
a year would pass
the snow began to slip
in clumps and tumble
to the ground again
and again and again
and then
all hell broke loose
the heat was hot
the gates were gone
and I began to run
but

every path
led me to nowhere

the blue cold went red hot
and then turned black
I tried to leave that place
13 times I left and
13 times returned
there was nowhere else to go
no place to call home
I burned within my sick head

I wanted to peel
the skin from my face

so hot
I was bleeding for you
soaked in sweat
my calloused heart
would not ask for help

serenity
was far away

my hands were bruised
from breaking rocks all day
far from the chill
I couldn't remember
anymore anyway
so desperate
for a glimpse of snow
it all came down
to this

I could not live apart
from that place
and I could not live
within it

so tonight

I will marry the two
the here and the now with
the there and the then

mix the snow with the fire
mix the snow add the fire
mix   snow  with    fire
mix   snow  add    fire

snowfire
      
snowfire
      
snowfire

momma
I am burning
momma I am cold
mother please save me
don't leave me alone
I see you but
you've come too late
can you hold me anyway?
whisper in my ear
I'm so sorry mother
I haven't bathed in 2 weeks
momma come hold me please

I'm down in a hole mother
feeling so low mother

I'm so cold mother
come save me
take me home
mother
I am dying

mommy
I am dead
sit with me
in silence
sit with me
I am dead

mommy I'm scared

black is all I feel
so this must be how it feels
to be free*

mother
I am dead

In Memory of Layne Stayley
born August 22, 1967 died April 5, 2002
Re-Dedicated today on what would have been his 50th Birthday..

My neighbors above my head are having ***
Moaning and shrieking, lets give the men pleasure
I'm not so sure why I felt so lonely the past two times
You licked me up like I was red carnal meat.

I sat on the floor staring up at the projector
My tight little black jumper choking me
I glanced over at the door as you swept into the room
Like black or purple midnight smoke
"Lets be ninjas about it"
I said, a coy grin on my face
If only you didn't belong to another.


I guess?
I suppose?
I reckon?
I drank a lot of red wine, pulled aside
Men wanted to discuss the chapters
My heart felt so full, so elated
Its funny how you can float from one moment to the next
But then a thing or two deflates it as if
It was only a temporary mirage.

Perhaps I need to work on my professional language.

**** it
Whatfucking ever.

Haven't heard from you since this morning
I don't feel like recording ******* voice overs right now
Cleaning my kitchen in order to encourage happiness
All I got back from one of my room mates was a
"Thanks"

You can't win everyone's hearts.

I felt so apathetic, so cool, collected
Its so easy to place your hands through the fog
To sort it out with calm, collected words
Thinking no one can really see the panic in my heart
I can't believe you turned around
You turned around
You turned around
You turned around
You turned around
And were everything you said you weren't.

When I feel bitter or sad
I think about the fact that you are inked forever
Or how my last beautiful words must have left blood on your tongue
I step away from the anger, the doubt
I am told what to do early in the morning till mid afternoon
My eyes were swollen from red wine all day
Taking the every 30 minute temperature of soup


And for a few days out of the week
I pretend to be a civilian
To be one of them
I don't have to wear my artist hat
I don't have to shine or radiate
I drank and smoke a lot last night
No trigger warning, I just sassed it up

And its funny how one or two little thing
Can make you question everything.

The Wolf said to me last night
As I laid atop his dark mangy fur
With a growl and a whisper
Special. You said I was special.
Because not just anyone gets to **** the director.

You're right.
They don't.
And it makes me think of how we, we women
We always gotta have our paws and jaws up
Ready to be armed to fight
Or to sit down and die
I receive messages nodding at me for my bravery
And yet I still find myself

You turned around
You turned around
You were just like the rest
You were and are everything you said
You weren't
But we all smile in unison
Everyone comforts with friendship in the future
I know you do what you can to get by
But please, please ******* for 6 months.

I growl back at the wolf
The full moon hanging in the night sky
I take a night off for me
From everything.

"Fast Layne"
A Coworker gave me the nickname today
Thats a new one.
I watch Lemons rot but bare new seeds
Teedle plays in the southern sunshine
Floony Facetimes from afar
Layney remains in second grade
LM performs monologues to walls
And Layne Marie

Well.

She's the dangerously vivid one here.

I write with a pink Bic now

My phone is white and out of storage and I’m not connected to the
   cloud because it freaks me out, so every time I delete a picture, she
   asks “are you sure?” And I “delete anyway”
My high school best friend’s cousin’s husband just died and I’m
   wondering why I’m weeping for a kin I never grew akin to, a mere
   stranger, a subtle blip in my matrix. But his poetry
   is beautiful, I know that. And his music is beautiful, I know that.
I drank a root beer float tonight and the night before, or did I eat it? It
   reminded me of buying 99 cent slushes at Convenient. Or the
   “healthy” slushes I bought to accompany my soft pretzel everyday
   in middle school.
On the terrace, everyone else ate hot dogs and I looked down,
   holding my soggy French fries and wondering what else there is out
   there besides ketchup and mustard: like in Princess Diaries when
   Julie Andrews puts mustard on her corndog. I always thought
   that was so cool.
Or when Mia Thermopolis sit sideways in her giant comfy chair after
   throwing darts at balloons filled with paint aka “stupid cupid stop
   picking on me” or is it… “hitting on me”
Remember when Ben Day asked for pictures and when you sent cute
   selfies in your sports bra, he responded, “okay, but can they not be
   of your face?”
Or when Ben Wilson taught you that “hurt people hurt people” and
   had “ultra conservative” on his Facebook page underneath political
   views and you had go ask what that meant. I Corinthians 1:13 or
   something like that was always my favorite bible verse because its
   the only one I ever learned by heart.
Hail Satan.
We all rot under late capitalism.
But I didn’t know that then. I know that now, but not then.
Now I wonder mostly about the ethics behind “procreating.” I wanna
   bear fruit, but I can’t even stand the thought of myself burning in a
   fiery pit, let alone my spawn.
But,
My stepsister is pregnant. She found out the “gender” today, “boy.”
   My nieces and nephews have had a very gendered upbringing, I
   guess I did too: barbies and bratz and Betty spaghetti.
I know everyone always says they just want a “healthy, happy baby”
But I have a crippling nicotine addiction and manic depression, I’m
   not healthy or happy.
Do you think I was the idea my parents pictured when my mom peed
   on that stick and got a plus sign?
Probably not.
I hate to disappoint.
They can live in the glory days when my cursive handwriting was
   better than anyone else’s in my second grade class. Olivia Layne
   Ulmer on that brown, dotted, lined paper.

With a yellow no.2 pencil.

A white porcelain
Porcupine

Sits atop
The stool

Beside a resting
Toilet and silent sink

Drains are clogged
Must be the fog

Airing up
Inside the room

Thick and heavy
Full of cream

Like a hot
French Pastry

Soap melts
Into a fine cappuccino

Skin is soft
Not smooth

Rugged
Tired of the water's touch

Lips separated
Leaking drool

An earlier soft drink
Makes its appearance

Sake makes my soul
Gold and sublime

A snowball I received
To the face

Magical cocktail
Island tragedy

In Paris
Couped up

Stuck in a bathroom
Head bobbing

Up
And Down

Swaying
Side to side

Direction unchosen
Ears sweetened

By a tranquil
Heavenly sound

A song
Heartfelt poem

Layne's voice
Shouting from the void

Guitar strings
Beats of a drum

Native quotas
Unremembered

Just peace
No hate

Possible gain
***** to be given

Snowflakes
Fall upon my brow

Hissing in the heat
Chilling a man-made sea

Fingers tingle
Fabricating a jingle

Eyes swell
Blochted art on the walls

Feet numb
Deciding to stick around

Like a sore gum
Withered with gin

My armor
Solid arms

Continue to fall
Down with my divinity

I am Lucifer
Shining meteor of false hope

Chest heaves
I begin to grieve

Hope for a dawn
Pray to hear a new song

But here he comes
I am bleeding

Shaken by the storm
Overcome

Laughter
And crying

This means
I am dying

But,
Is the time right?

He held me in the coming autumn air
And said to my ear and to my eyes
I don't want to lose you Layne Marie.

Like the pendulum of a clock I'd been waiting
Wistfully waiting on those words
Our schedules sending us in polar opposite
Directions
I finger paint my hopes and dreams
Into the earth
But I don't pick any one thing or man
Out.

I explained to my therapist
The kind of dream man I've always envisioned
I remember when there was a moment there
Where I thought it was just you and me.

So I tumble into the hay
A camera deep in the palm of my hands
Sitting among the front of an audience
I adjust my skirt, my arms
I'm always wanting and needing more money.

We went through the maze
And seem to have found our way out
It became a bit gory and toxic there for a moment
I flutter the lids of my eyes
Hugs and drugs soaring
And just try to let it be
Let myself be kind
Patient
And not because you told me so
I just allow myself to expect
Nothing
All around.

The other day they showed on the news a tweet by President Elect Donald J. Trump. It is a very sad situation when you have an illiterate as your newly appointed leader. It's like I told Layne Marie. It only gets it, when it is and never gets it when in possession. I know what you're thinking. This poet did the same thing when he posted poems on other sites. Yes. Guilty as charged. But, Trump didn't pay Mike Tyson to beat up you. And whenever I recover from those beatings I just might get up the nerve to do something about it. DO NOT TELL ME that this country is so ******* up that anyone running for president shouldn't have to take a literacy test. So we have now a mobster that is ignorant of the rules of grammar, leading the way. This is a very sad day. The 14th will be an even Saturday.

I've got the shaking power
That makes people cry
When I go

I remember when
I had the word Vienna
Etched in the curve of my name.

Everyone calls me Layne
And I quickly follow up
Not every time
But with my lovers, best
Marie.

I bought a jacket and a hat
Found and pinched out a sense of self
I never seemed to find anywhere else
But in the Austrian sunshine
Or how I can go anywhere
And make anything happen.

A friend and mentor told me last night
That I could move to Antarctica
And I would thrive.

Gold sequins
I felt sad you didn't come
Because everyone told me I should.

I've gotten to a place where in the highs
In the sky high moments
I don't always need the hand of a man.

I've seen all sides of it
And I don't live without admiration
But the validation I seek to give myself
It's plentiful
And then sometimes so empty.

You don't say anything in regards to the words that I write you
But I think maybe somewhere it effects you
Like how difficult it is for us to ever part ways
To pull ourselves off of one another
I've started to show you what's hiding under my skin.

He put his arm around me
While we stood on the stage
My hair grows longer
I tire myself out
And wonder where I'm supposed to end up
In time.

It's in the height of the intimacy
That I run wild, fractals warn me
That it will never just be you and I
So my cat snoozes
I work through it all
My work is the thing that will always be all mine.

I've changed so much
In so little and long a time
Do you see how we've also already grown?

In this moment
Among the sips
Of my French Martini
And the tapping of a cellphone screen
I am lonely.

I felt a rush
A rush of so much
And I look to fill the holes
Where I would share
And all of these beautiful
People of color
Told me I have accomplished so much
So young
To keep going
Relationship talk
As if I know
I admitted the recent strife
35 years
Even almost 9 months
Is a long time.

In this moment
I take the time to say
I am kind of lonely
And I miss what I wanted you to be
And what you were so good at being
At times
At this moment
I have noticed
I have noticed
And it doesn't matter
No it doesn't
I have sushi
Lots of beautiful sushi
Move on Layne
Just keep moving.

It's not a sweet sunshower
It's just a sour spring blur
I'm sipping on a wilting flower
With a dour devil who concurs
That all this sweating and shaking
Won't help bring home the bacon
And the everlasting shiver is making
My fragile bones crack with the quaking
Tell me what it takes to make this go away
Cause my ducts are dry and I can't cry today
Tell me what to do to make this life seem true
Cause this duck is drowning and the water's not as blue as me
All I have left is prayer, as they burden me with truth or dare
So show me the alchemy
Print me out the recipe
Cause I'm being eclipsed by the rain
Just like Layne

Not sure whats been goin' on with my soul
Dreams surrounding your face, the lack of your presence
I wake up in reality, so early
The sun eggs me on to get started
Motivation slightly slipping off the edge
Clawing the side of the earth
Nailing my fingertips into the dirt
A troop of people spot me from behind
And in front
And for the first time
I allow them to help lift me up.

Saw pictures from the funeral
You wore your favorite suit
A man came into my coffee shop yesterday
And I thought
This is what he will look and be like someday
Perhaps.

I don't really know what it is that I need
Inking and reading into every little thing
My sensitivity extra high
If I could fly a kite
I'd tie myself to it
And sail away.

Tonights the big night
Corsets and improvised movements
We plan to intoxicate ourselves with happiness
Its gonna do me some serious good.

Theres so much build up
So much hype
Around it all
And sometimes I just wanna curl into a ball
Let the circus proceed without me.

But I can't yet leave.

I don't know that there is any leaving for me anymore
I've always gotten away with it
The last **** on my dresser came off into my hand today
And I thought
My whole room breaks and crumbles around me
Year 1 whispering:
Sweet little Layne, its time to upgrade.

Time for a run
I won't forget
But I'll release every threatening word behind
The voiced insecurities of others
I allow them to spiral down into the earth
Like dust thats where they lay
And with uplifting fists

I leap over the edge
Of my own wall.

Cheap skinny insecure. tell her who she is.
If she thinks you love her your bound to get a kiss.
Mangled broken ***** girl where has she been.
Promise her freedom and she'll forgive your sin.
Beautiful weak broken nails,
 tired oh so sick
 listen to her heart beat listen to her tales.
Oh so tired and sick
Happy on the outside ***** deep with in.
Staple labels on her fore head, stick em in with pins.
Shes so so stupid and shes so so lame.
Shes been so so good, while in such such pain.

Cheap skinny insecure. Tell me who I am.
Broken down little girl, ******* little lamb.

Cheap skinny insecure locked in my own head.
Halley Layne tired and bored. should have stayed in bed,

The day that I lost you
I lost a piece of me
Like when we lost Layne
It started to rain
Now I sit at your grave and weep
Experiencing phantom pain
Random ocean waves of emotion
Flood over me
Bro we were blood
Forever destined to be
But now here’s your final resting place
Where’s my saving grace?
In my mind
I can barely remember your face
I can’t believe you won the race
To the ******* pearly gates
It was supposed to be me
Who took the early journey
To feel hell’s eternal fury
But I’m still here
A complete ******* disgrace
I’ll always shoulder this heavy weight
Pushing that boulder day to day
That’s my Sisyphean fate.

I can't be your afterthought
I can't be what you cry over later
and not in the moment
I can't be what you can deal with only once all your chores are done
And letters are sent and days are finished
I'm not a chore to be dealt with
I can't be who you pick only when you're with someone really terrible
Or want an escape from your lover
That isn't fair.
I can't be your afterthought.
The thing you never write poems about because you already "know"
How am I not worthy of your words?
Or your thoughts away from me?
How have I never once made into one of your poems?
You write about children you meet, people you see, friends you've talk to less, and haven't spent as many nights crying with about love and Cold Mountain.
And I never made the cut? ******* once?
Only in a poem about Layne Marie that you then deleted because she was in it and you said something ****** about her?
SAYING SOMETHING ****** ABOUT SOMEONE YOU HATE BEATS OUT WRITING SOMETHING NICE (I'M ASSUMING) ABOUT SOMETHING YOU LOVE????
WHAT THE **** IS WRONG WITH YOU YOU CRAZY ***** THAT'S MESSED UP AND NOT HOW TREAT YOUR SUPPOSED BEST FRIENDS AND RUBYS.
AND NOW I'VE SEEN YOU'VE WRITTEN A POEM ABOUT JENNA
STILL BEFORE ME
DA ***.
If I see one more poem about Trevor.
I'll **** something.
******* marry him already and get over it this is getting weird.
I have just unfollowed you.
*******.
Okay not really but I still think all of this ***** and is one of many reasons WE CAN NO LONGER BE FRIENDS.

A Secret Revenge-Anger Poem
By Maggie Johnson