Let the rain fall all night
Sitting in puddles on the street
With your ponytail soaking.
Let the May showers come again
With the repetition of Nietzche.

You lie on your back in the cool wet mud
Spitting insults in a million different ways.

You let your golden hair fall
As the leaves might in Autumn
Continuously spitting with fury
Hiding your anguish behind those self centered eyes.

When you fall to your knees like the mortals to gods
You sing, quietly, the song your mother sang
After which, your hair back up, you appear from the shadows
Looking a bit worse for wear.

You let the rain shower down,
Ripe yellow hair turns almost brown at the roots
And as you tear off the drenched silk dress
You find you might like yourself better that way.

my full and true semantic
can only be illuminated by the lonely moon.

i try to draw it out into the air...
so that your ears might embrace it, but
it crackles and fizzles
and sputters out before it gets there.

ellie's parents are dead.

i was adopted 23 years ago by two people
that have loved me in their own true way
which i try to pin down as selfish, and
who is right
and who is wrong

i've learned to let go of those battles
but some days they still fracture the sunlight
break its bones, break my heart.

ellie feels she has to rely on her druggie boyfriend
who is in and out of jail
she says she really loves him
but the people she is living with are suddenly moving far away,
and now she needs a place to stay.

she can't move back in with her sister
and when she was accepted to college her sister replied
how are you going to pay for that?

i've only been able to get through my legal troubles
because my parents have helped me
driving me to drug tests and to work some days
a recourse i brought on myself with temper tantrums
i should have outgrown

but forget subjunctives,
if the police could open me up, if the law could unfurl my soul
they would feel bad for putting me in jail
and placing this onus on my shoulders.

they would.

but my full and true semantic can only be illuminated
by the lonely moon
as i bike home from ellie's house
we shared beer and cigarettes
and "Champion" by Fall Out Boy blares from my Bluetooth speaker
which is a keychain on my backpack...

i said in a low voice, passing listening houses
you don't know me
because i have gone at least partially insane
with my loneliness.

only not. and the suburbanites who think they can assume things
the law who thinks they can properly judge me,
they CAN GO **** THEMSELVES.

i have good intentions.

i am a brilliant person.

i have an ego.

and i sink into humility again.

and i think about ellie

and i think about everything, a child with cancer
a child with malaria
and i think
i am ~so~ beautiful.

did you stop to think about what 'so' really means?
of course you didn't.
i could spend all day telling you things
you missed about my beauty.

that's how vile and vain i am.

you don't think this poem is perfect.

it deserves to go down in ******* history.

Another
perfect thing
that shouldn’t
have ever
happened
is gone again.

“I never know
what to do
with my knees,”
she smiled then,
she was riding me.

When we
are finished,
she looks like
she will shatter,
fragile smile still
plastered.

“Do you see how
careful I am with my
subjunctives?”
And I do.

You are careful
enough that you
are perfectly
numbed when
you find what to do
with your knees,
with your fingers,
your arms and legs,
and the rest of you too;

perfectly numbed as you
amputate them from me.