There are more songs on today about suicide than love,
My beauty queen friend died of a ****** overdose
A day before her fleeting birthday.
A kid in my brother's third grade classroom
Hung himself "trying to be Spiderman"
When not even a week ago
He was trembling on the playground,
Begging for help when no one would listen.

Girls flash pieces of lumped skin called scars,
Proud of them because they have overcome.
But I guess no one ever told them that those scars
Were supposed to be metaphors,
A smoking gun at the back of a hero.

There's a kid in my class who picks at his scabs
And pulls his hair
And I can picture him
At the bottom of the bottle in a year or so.

We find more solace in fiction than fact,
Because 35 people were shot this weekend in my hometown
But in Megaman the shots never actually hurt.
We shouldn't be thinking about all the violence, though,
Because at least Miley twerked a solid and dropped it low.

A drunken fool killed an old couple last week,
But all I heard on the news was that Transformers 4 is spiking the charts
Even though Michael Bay directed it
And he can't make a movie
Without filling the seats
With people wanting to only see
******* and ***** and explosions they could see
If they looked down their own street at the right time.

Sometimes I get caught up in the mess,
Obsessed with those who post offense on articles
While we ignore the fact that a baby has been cured of AIDS!
I bring myself to wonder at the insignificance of you and I,
As bullets fly and young girls cry
Over slashes and stretch marks in their thighs.
If mirrors are out greatest enemy, than
Why are we fighting the bosses of our lives,
Ready to strike down the opposition?

Life goes on past all these insecurities.
There'll be graves to visit and chances to take
But I'm not the only one who thinks this way.
I can't be the only one who thinks this way...

So here's to Spiderman,
Who told us that with great power comes
Great responsibility.
Throw your fist in the air with me and face up to that.
We've driven ourselves to suffer far worse
Than we have to.
Fight the important battles and
Leave the rest to sand.
And come back to me,
Refreshed and renewed.

Bring my reasoning your weak and I
Will make them whole once more.

Is driving home from his part-time job
Answering IT phones for some college
And he flips a lady off when she pulls out in front of him
And he thinks "I shouldn't have to deal with human ****."
And he thinks "When I get home,
I'm gonna smoke a bowl."

There's another message from his ex-girlfriend
On the answering machine
"James, why haven't you been fighting crime?
Why haven't you been saving citizens?
Why haven't I seen you flying through the skies
in your red tights and mask? James, remember
When you saved my life? Remember
When you saved the whole city? Why
Did you stop caring? You've been given all these gifts
And you sit around drinking, thinking
'I'll let someone else get this one,' but who else
Can leap tall buildings and lift burning schoolbuses
Off of screaming children? And who else out there
Has x-ray eyes, but a gentle touch? You're a hero
And you need to act like one. You're an *******,
But a super one."

BEEP

"Thank God," he thinks
Deletes it
Pulls a six pack out of the fridge
His broad shoulders sink into the couch
On the news
Someone's been shot
Someone's been robbed
He turns it off
"Not my problem." He says
Finality in his voice
Finishing a bottle

"Passion is for the weak
Caring gives me the creeps"
In the distance his sonic hearing picks out a scream
His radioactive muscles tense
Ready to spring into action
The feeling of responsibility dissipates
Like it always does

"Not my problem." he says
Another beer is gone
Another message blinking on the machine
Her again.
Dumb broad.

If I'm invincible,
What is there to worry about?
If I'm invincible,
What is there to cling to?
If I'm invincible,
Why should I give a **** about mere mortals?

He calls his nemesis
"Let's go out later. Let's get wasted
And break things with our super strength."
He hits a cat on the way
Backs over to make sure it's dead
The night is a success already

Everything around me
Keeps me coming back to you.
I'm a lost puppy
Wandering in the woods
And I'm a hopeless case
When you're not around.
And I can't tell if this is admirable
Or sick but I'm only happy by your side.
The anxiety boils in my veins
And taints my mind
When you're so far away.
I fear for your safety daily
Because of past violences
And pill poppers
And self destroyers;
You're the only sane person I know in this world.
My guardian angel,
My one and only
Savior and protector.

I pretend to be a hardass by cutting my hair short
And smoking a cigarette a second
But it's only becaue Bruce Willis was safe
Climbing vents is Die Hard
So long as he had a gun in one hand
And an import smoke
Twisted in the knuckle of the other.
I am a lost transmission
And all of these words
Are just different combinations of twenty six letters
That could never encompass all you mean to me.

I am not a hardass,
I'm a pop princess
Longing for a God
But I am too intelligent to believe in one.

When did it become the norm for teens
To turn into Holden Caulfields
And when did I realize at first
That I see things other don't
And often suffer because of it?
It's like when I walked out of that theatre tonight
I was reminded what real life was
And promptly found myself again at the hand of anxiety.

I am not a monster
But this is a rant
Because I can't go a day
Without wondering why I'm still here.
With me
It is no depressive item,
I am only wanderlost.
How do people live past 25
When the world I live in is demented
And scary
And I am so, so
Small.

I breathe.
I am released.
But the air I fill my lungs with is heavy like lead
And I can only picture myself
Sinking to the bottom of the lake
Because my boots are too heavy
And I have decided to dive in headfirst.

I am a fool.
I am a disgusting imagined facet
And I am lost.
I am not thinking rationally tonight
And for that I thank only God Himself
Because I know He's ******* me up for a reason
But that reason might as well be for naught.

For I am no saint,
But a sinner.
Yes, I give little girls faith in themselves
By explaining to them that just because
They are ten years old
That does not mean they are not kick *** people
Because MegaMan was ten
When he was trying to ignore
****** puns from Cutman
And the same idiosyncrasies
And the same existentialist suicidal ideals
I try to ignore today.

I told my father today
That I wish I would have tried ditching school
Because then I would have felt as though I had
Even the smallest bit of control over my fate.
But I am so, so
Small.

I know the school
And everyone in it
Would not have noticed me go.

I know the world
And everyone in it
Would not notice me if I were to go.

I. I thought you were her world;
   Her paperback novel
   She could ponder quotes in
And crack the spine of.
   But you’ve now got police orders against you
And the pain of missing you
   Seers the seams of her striped-sweater heart
   And though you’re trying to get into Green and Ginsberg,
   She can’t see what the big deal is.
   You were the Holden Caulfield
   To her Jane Gallagher
   But Holden never took Phoebe
   To the mattress so
   I guess that makes the two of you
   Sid and Nancy
   Instead.

II. I suppose she never believed you
   When you told her that you were an alcoholic.
   Because alcohol burns
   And though you lit her fire,
   You couldn’t keep it burning.
   You told her that you didn’t read
   And she should have
   Backed away then.
   But she didn't.
   Because you played accordion
   And dressed like Gatsby
   And she adored that for a good while.
   Until you told her that you despised the Rolling Stones
   And may have committed a ******.
   Even then she did not back away
   Because you bought her cigarettes
   And hit on other girls
   While she waited for you
   To give her the boot.

III. She liked your accent
   But it was just a sweet, endearing cover up
   For a mind as empty as a gypsy’s wallet
   And a rich man’s soul.

IV. You liked to give her drags
   Off your E-cigarette
   Because it tasted like cherry Pez
   And you wanted her to see
   Or rather, taste,
   The magic.
   Kissing you was like magic
   Until
   You moved on to an older broad.

V. Everytime
   Her lips met yours
   You tasted like heavy *****
   And she was too desperate and twisted
   To really give much of a ****.
   So she accepted it
   And moved on.
   Because you called her pretty
   And made out with her in the forest,
   Denim scratching denim,
   Hearts hurting hearts.

VI. She didn’t know you were homeless.
   Or, rather,
   Maybe she did
   But she didn’t accept it.
   Like an elderly doesn’t accept death at first
   And attempts to bargain.
You smelled horrible…
   She believed it to be a natural thing.
   But you were neglecting your hygiene and with that,
   Her as well.
   And the only thing you cared more for than ***
   Was the *** Pistols.

VII. You asked her to take off her glasses one day
   And with one look of her freckled,
   Pimple-shell ridden face,
   You told her she looked like Ramona Flowers
   And upon googling who that was,
   She nearly crapped herself in glee.
   She should have taken it as a sign
   When you began to find
   And tiny reason to touch her in as playful a way you could.
   Through tiny nudges
   She should have seen the possibility of romance blossoming.
   But you were 29
   And she, 17.
   Twelve years, practically
   Three Presidents
   Between the two of you.
   But your undivided ideals
   Brought you only closer together.
   You were an English education major,
   With a III mark after your name
   And Megaman on your walls.
   She took one look
   At the astounding possibilities,
   Drew a breath and fell in love with
Every little thing about you.
Every single,
Unnoticeable thing about you,
From the scar
Stretching down your spine
To the scruff on your chin…
She fell
Deeper in love with you
Than she ever had before.
And she saw a dream,
A future,
That came in on a hot summer day
With Taco Bell
And destiny.

I was told today
That my life choices
Offend some.
Offend,
The same word my editor used against me
As a precaution
When I told her
That I wanted to write an opinion article
About why Mark David Chapman
Should be released from prison.
I was warned that I would offend some readers,
And that was to be expected.
After all,
It was an opinion piece.

But today I was told
That some of my lifestyle choices offend
And I couldn't help but to ask:
"Which ones?"

At which point this woman lost her **** on me.
"How can you possibly be having relations with a man
So much older than you?
Isn't he graying?
Isn't he...
More mature, intelligent than
You?"

And I felt my world implode.
This woman, this foul, wretched beast with ****
Was openly denouncing
Everything I had built myself on over the last year.
And I could tell this woman
Went home to a white picket fence and
Screaming, spoiled, ******* kids,
And a husband who beat her ***
But was at least in her age range
Every night.

And I seethed.

And I sobbed.

With what wretchedness I took down the notes of the Earth today,
For it continued to turn
Even as I felt myself shattering inside.
How can one be so obsessed,
So offended by another's
Choice in love;
As if I even had a ******* choice
To begin with?

Who's to say
That even though I don't go home
With him every night,
That I don't go home to solace and peace
And all those other ******* things
I could never find
While making out with men my age
Who had whiskey and PBR on their breath
And strong, red cigarettes twisted in their knuckles?

Who is there to say
That love is not present
In our every move, our every caress
During the films we watch every time we see each other?
We watch The Shining and he holds me close
Because jump scares make me scream like a little *****.
We watch Moonrise Kingdom
And I can feel him kiss my cheek,
Making me blush
As he remarks on how we are so much like
Those children on the screen.
So in love.
So innocent.
So tender you could puke.

I have nightmares with every evening-fall
And he dies in each of them,
Making each night a new horror
That I have seen so many times.
I woke up screaming in his bed once
And he was clutching me from behind,
His arms coiling my midsection,
His panicked breath hot on my neck.

You don't cry over scaring someone
You do not love.

He loves video games,
Megaman's his favorite.
When he tells me the stories
Because the games are much too hard for me,
I see his brown, sparking eyes
Alight with a shine of wonder
And I know
He doesn't know that he's a hero in himself,
Much like his little blue childhood
Role model.

My picket fence
Could easily be sufficed
With the balcony of a small apartment
Or a suburban chain-link fence
So long as I know
That I am standing on or behind it
With him at my side.

Twelve years is not a death sentence in love,
Neither is being told that your choices are offensive.

There is a beauty that comes
With courting an older man.
Words flow easier,
Advice is given without judgement.
Arguments are had over
What the **** Alex Hirsch meant with that episode,
Rather than who the hell were you just texting?

I am young.
And I am in love,
The kind I would not mind
Inviting in for the rest of my days.

He is not graying.
He is not a monster.

He is my friend,
My lover,
My partner in crime,
The man I make watch too many Stanley Kubrick and Wes Anderson movies,
My darling,
My sweetheart,
And the light of my life.

I couldn't care less if that offends you.

Dearest,
Killing yourself would be easy
But missing out on the next Stephen King novel would not.
Imagine the ******* you'd never have,
And the video games you'd never play.
They just put Megaman in the new Super Smash,
So he may be getting a new game soon.
Think of how many viewings of Back to the Future
You'll miss out on,
The indie concerts you'll never attend.
I want you to picture your perfect, glowing effigy of manhood
And now I want you to see him
Caressing your cheek
And pressing his lips all down your spine
Because this time two years ago
I wanted to be in a hole
With maggots eating my skin
And now it is lit on fire every night
By his touch.

Don't think of your family,
Your friends,
Think of yourself.
Be as selfish as a member of AA
And as resilient as one, too.
For I have felt the hot breath of depressive temptation
And anxiety bubbling in my tendons
But I overcame.
And even if no one else says it to you today,
I believe in you.

Think of all those cups of coffee with cigarettes
You'll be missing out on
And you'll never get to read the sequel to Fight Club
That's coming out soon.
Remember the book stores you'll never smell
And all the record shops
You'll never get to laugh at hipsters in.

Breathe and keep breathing
And I swear you will live
And find beauty.