Raindrops collect in the cracks of the windowsill.
Tears acrobat out of my almond eyes,
My heart is a black flower crumbling in ashes.

I would die a hundred times for my heart to meet yours.
The wet magnolia petals in the churchyard
root my weeping into the ground.

Tylenols for the depths of fever,
in sunrise of morning, my eyes are stained pink.
Dreams of never-ending fall from atop a building, coming to you.

Mist of pine-needles brush stone-carved grave beneath me,
Whisper prayer to beloved on my knees,
roses, daisies, marigolds in vase water the beauty of him.

A warped mirror perhaps?
My face always twisted,
always grimacing behind a dry beam.
Two Tylenols are never enough.

Ella.
A lump caught in my throat.  
Her scent walks by,
uninvited, yet welcomed.

A blurred outline,
a cutout blocking the light.
I yearn to sweat nightmares
out of my pores.

At night, her voice still fogs
the thick wall of silence—
muffled.
“Are you listening?”
Obscured echoes stir
down the pit of this endless night.

Tulips grow somewhere
on the side of the bed,
where it whirrs and beeps,
and reeks of alcohol.  
But the night is ever still,
unperturbed, as it sleeps in my arms.

Murmurs drift like dust motes,
caught in a sunbeam—

Ella.
I chase shadows of her laughter,
fading out against gushing white noise.  
Fingers twitch to speak,
for words are somehow
lost in static.

The walls hum a song,
croaking with hurt it sounds—
“Stay with me,” it pleads,
but my indifference swallows
the words.

In the spaces between breaths,
I linger suspended.
Ella might be digging me out.

Is *** a drug, I say yes, is it bad I say no.
Be smart with it cause you know that to much makes you slow.
Even Tylenols bad if you like to abuse, so don't misuse what mother nature grows.
And yes 15 partners makes you a ***, its quality over quantity,
Maybe you can associate *** with a handshake, but I think it has to go deeper than skin.
I want it to mean something within
Two souls yearning to become one,
Not empty kisses, fake words, and meaningless pleasure.
But two people uniting in the most intense intimacy that two humans can experience.
Something you share with someone who you know more about than they know themselves, someone who you would give everything for in a moment, someone you hold in the center of your world.
Someone you love.
I also believe in Pro-life.
Just cause your a low life, doesn't mean the baby doesn't deserve a life.
If the ****** fits, wear it,
Better to be safe than a murderer.
And I know everyone says "well what about ****."
But with over 300,000 adoptions taking place in the U.S. every year,
Even if you didn't make a mistake, theres still an escape.
I know its sad, and my heart breaks for the woman who met that fate,
But the decision of a ***** isn't the fault of a baby.
As teenagers we feel immortal,
Nothings going to happen, nothing is really important, but it is.
We take pride in our failure, we laugh at authority,
We don't try intentionally.
But theres gonna be a day outside the 4 walls of the classroom.
When the ambitious will thrive, and the apathetic won't survive,
So treat this like its a joke
Treat this like its not important
Because with a 50 % failure rate
Unless you get off your lazy ***, and even attempt to pass, then what everyone thinks about us Lake Region kids,
Is true.

The Moon has abandoned us
We are but blades of grass in a shielded blow
We are merely stones in a river's roll
One day we will be no longer.

We are desperate to cling to
some semblance of reason
but what good does the morrow bring worth breathing today for??
What good is so good that I should stay awake?
We are trying so hard to pretend that sharing our crazy is the least crazy thing
We cling so hard to this notion that we forget to look in the mirror while exchanging pictures of each other instead of reflecting on who we are,
But then, what's the point of reflecting on who we are when all we're capable of is our own life? Literally, the most powerful thing we can do is end ourselves. We aren't so special. We're just bodies with artificial flavors. No semblance of natural beauty; it's all been placed there by our self-serving pursuit of purpose. It's so much easier to believe we suffer for a reason. We don't.

A sad, frail calamity
A ship on endless ocean
Misery loves company, and that's why we've outlawed suicide, because really
You can't tell me you really believe we will be punished for ending our own durations, given to us without permissions,
You can choose your destiny as long as you stay alive. Death is not an option, until it is, and then what?

You're so glad that I'm expressing myself, but you wish i'd say some different things
So glad to see me creative again, but so against the things i say again and again and again and again and I just want somebody to make it all better like when you're 5 and don't know what existence ******* is but you get a cut on your finger and now you exist, but then your momma comes and sticks a band-aid on your finger and the pain of existence is gone. i want that feeling again.

But my mom's antibacterial powers have subsided as the ills have built resistances; they're now resisting penicillin and we don't own anything else right now. I open up my medicine cabinet, anyway. There's Tylenol. At least it'll help to ease the pain.

I take one. I take another. It isn't working. I take some more. Do these have a limit? I think they do. But I can't read at this point. I take another. I take another. I'd be counting but i can't do that, either. I keep taking the pills. I never stop. For all of eternity I take additional Tylenols, until a sad, frail calamity comes home from work and sees a sunken fleshy ship at the end of its ****** and final voyage.