Your best friend is laying down
in the casket before you
and it's all wrong.

She's wearing a dress, yet
everyone knew that
the only time she wore
one was to mock those
who "colored inside the lines."

Her hair is up, but she
always had it down
to cover her flaws and
the distant look in her eyes.

Her lips are in a straight line,
but she was known as
the girl who would be laughing
at her own funeral, and here
she was, tightlipped.

Looking at her body that
would soon only leave
bones behind, it was
obvious that nobody ever
looked past the skin deep
features, nobody took notice
of a girl who strove to
blend in, and succeeded.

Youngin's wisdom in spades
idiots hoping and hopping over
green grass.

i always knew
this heart was fragile
in metallic ice
melting the romance
burning shreds of dreaming
and fawning
all over your bleeding skin.

i'm tracing
the space
where everything began
to flourish
within your desperate *****
of belief and
hysterical magic.

i'm racing
my heartbeats
underneath these useless sheets
i'm shivering in my teeth
i'm marveling in the
glimpses of your novice
anxiousness.

i'm tightlipped
and about to break
this listless charm
into disposable
garbage.

youngin' love
and daydreamin' of heavenly explosions
within dreadful tunnels.

i've ruptured my lungs
screaming in
my bed
trying to reach through
and infiltrate
recreate
dance and intoxicate.

i'm tightlipped
and i can't seem to speak.

"It's not for anxiety," they said, tightlipped but concerned,
they don't understand that I can't pay attention if my heart beats louder than my words,
The sound of my thoughts coming at me like trains and bike and buses,
honking at me to say something articulate,
is much louder than their confused voices explaining that the blue pill is to stop the jitters,
but I've got other issues.
They don't see that there is a tea kettle bubbling in my stomach that shoots hunger through its long nose,
in shrill whistles that pierce my insides.
It's all I can hear when the TV is on and I haven't eaten.
But that little chemical spreads inside me like a blanket of silence, quells the screaming children
and the little girl constantly tugging at my heartstrings,
making indiscernible chords that only
echo as the sound of jealousy, fear and self loathing.
She tucks her self in and keeps her hands to herself for a few hours.
As the blue devils shovel more coal in the bed warmers,
the sound of metal clanging is muted by their powers.
Chipping away at the noise makers, the inhabitants of my tortured soul-
I love the empty I feel on adderall.

To give their face a facelift
on the lip and around eyes
invented was lipstick
extracted from dyes.

Ah a woman’s lips
have held for countless age
her mind’s secret tips
love, hatred, rage!

Her lips parted pursed
speak the subtlest lines
of a relation gone accursed
or one in glowing shines!

It’s not when lips do part
but when she’s tightlipped
the silence breaks man’s heart
the strongest one gets ripped!

But sure her puckered ones
they invite you to a bliss
sparkle like thousand suns
when land on you as kiss!

How could I,
The double-faced
WHO’s current leader,
On par with
A chieftain
Brigade general,
Tightlipped attend
My diabolic
Party’s funeral?

Though for
My criminal
Party’s tragic end,
Bereaved,
I have to sob,
I must labor
To garner
The pity of
The credulous, elites
As well as
The mob
Round the globe.

At the same time
Dollars I have
To underwrite
In a bid remaining
Impish junta members
Beef up their might
Armed again
To wage a fight!

After ENDF’s law
Enforcement operation,
“I know not
The whereabouts of
My nephew,
In Micadra’s massacre,
Who might have
Victimized a few!”

Blood is thicker
Than water
Thus about
Genocide victims
Why should
I bother?
By defector as
I’m also
A victimizer.

I forgot
I’ve to seek
A scapegoat,
Though it was
The junta
Who released thugs
And cut throats
Before defeat
So that
They could
Run amok
To wreak havoc
—**** & looting—
I will dish out stories
In order hints not
To the gun the smoke!
If handsomely paid
Some media outlets
Could reverse the talk.