The Next OneHere it comesMy heart starts poundingNot with insecurityAn excitement feelingHis beautiful brown hairThe white pearly smileThe hazel coloring eyes of hisEvery Love Story I listen toHe is thereIn my imaginationIn my heartWho is he?He's the next oneHere I go again
Ode To The Special SnowflakeIf I'm without a heartWhy am I still living,Still breathing steadily?Can you tell me that?Seems like your wiresAre crossed, they're tightlyKnotted around your neck.No wonder you're suffocating.Don't expect an apology.I'll never admit to somethingI'm not guilty of in the first place.So why don't you grow up?If there's anyone you shouldBlame for your insecuritiesIt's yourself, not anyone else.The likes of you showNo signs of intelligence.So quick to judge, you blowThings out of proportion.You're a pathetic brat trappedIn an adult's body; how canYou be taken seriously whenYour attitude is obnoxious?You really believe you're theOnly one with issues? Take a wideLook around, princess, becauseEveryone has troubles of their own.Your lack of basic comprehensionIs something I find very laughable.Either you're stupid or immature.
DifferenceTo be lonely is painful,To be alone is liberating.
The Talking Snake It was only one in the afternoon and yet the snake was talking to me. At least, that was how it appeared: its words fell out from its maw clearly, its forked tongue slithering around each syllable as its head drifted back and forth hypnotically in the air. Two beady eyes rested on me and held my gaze as though I was paralysed and it was only after great effort that I was able to break from the stare and manage a glance to my watch. Four minutes past. Definitely not drunk yet, though there was still time.“Are you supposed to be talking?” The reply was deep in tone with a sharp hissing noise tagged onto every word, ever letter - even the punctuation. I shuddered in horror. “This isn't fair. I didn't ask for this.” The snake agreed with me, which was very amicable of it. I mused that maybe the snake was a nice guy after all, bearing the heavy
The Inner Workings of FateLike violins in discord.Like clumsy fingers onpiano keys.We stumble through life.And only bytracing our stepsdo we find the parallels.
HopeThere are so many dayswhen humanity frightensthe most compassionateperson awayit takes only a knifeor a word or a gun, andoh god,we scare so easy.I'm tired of livingwithout faith,without promise,I'm tired of not believingin tomorrow.There may not be a god abovebut believer or not,there are so manyreasons to loveI'm not giving upI'm not letting go;I'm going to dreamand one dayperhaps I will flyand I will believethe best of peopleuntil it kills me,because the momentthat you give upis the momentyou become the problem.
come inShe is a rain-soakedneon sign at eight o’clockon a Thursday night.Her light is too cold,pipes twisted, full of fluid,I’m open, she says.The door is always openIsn’t that what I’m here for?Isn’t that my job?Hollow, dim, dull,there’s not much else she can do.Come in here, she says.At 1AM ona Sunday, she’s still open.Chemicals buzzing.
Head WoundThe world at large spins and soars around the sunIt’s all red to me, peering at it beneath a bloody ragI drove my bicycle into a brick wall todayStrange things leaked from the cracks in my skullTiny spider-monsters, oven cleaner, crumpled pagesAshes and diamonds, pieces of eight, stardust, milkI lay behind a dumpster leaking for years and yearsBelow the ‘No Exit’ neon sign, before it was replacedWith a Wal-Mart, where I was a Valued CustomerThey bandaged me up, gave me a shot of morphineAnd one of those little carts so I could continue shoppingI bought a gun
midnights always last longer than they should.i spend sleepless nights in my roomstaring at your picture on my mirrorand wondering why on earth someone as beautiful as youwould ever love someone like me,but then i rememberyou don't.
whispers.i was so hesitantto take your hand,because when you said you loved mei knew you meant itand that scared the hell out of me.
Because I'm Gay-Snippet"What do you mean I can't join the tennis team at all?" I ask, irritated. I finally got the balls to try out for the tennis team in sophomore year, and he's rejecting me?"We have no room for you on the team. I'm sorry." Coach Brown says, but he sure looks nervous. He avoids looking at me at all costs; his eyes train on the clock above my head. Then they flick towards his phone, hoping someone to call him to get him out of this situation."What do you mean 'no room'? You even told us at the meeting that there would be plenty of room for everyone because of how small our school is." I growl. Does he actually think the crap he is giving me actually works? I'm not stupid. I'm not stupid at all."Look, Mr. Martin, there were more people trying out for tennis than anticipated. I wouldn't have said that if I'd have known so many people were actually interested." He says. He looks at the earring in my left ear, then quickly averts back to the American flag that sits on his desk. America: the
LifeI'm not livingI'm only survivingThere's so much to doAnd so little timeI'm always in a rushTrying to keep up with lifeWithout a moment to restWithout a moment to thinkThere's no joy in lifeBeing here makes no senseSometimes it comes to meThat I should put an end to it...
Promises and paper starsIt used to be that we weren't in love;that you were too young andneither of us understood the words,the words we carelessly threwacross vast oceans and into deep chasms.The words we left strewn on the mountaintopsand those we abandoned down in the valleys.All the words, scattered into the windslike paper stars or patterned birdscome flying back to roost.They come home to haunt us,recalling the promises in paper bagsdissolving in the downpour.-We're alone again and calling the rainfall, fall and tear the paper heartsand show us we're not the end of it allI want to feel free as you stick aroundI rattle my chains like a Dickensian spectreraging and wrathful, the lover scorned.Well forget all the reasonsand forget all the names-some vary or change,locations, descriptionsseasons pass and everything changes.We loved, we lied, we played pretendwe tried, we faked, we scraped,and we got what we deserved.--Seventeen scattered, slowly sinkingsaturated, stone and snow
Have You EverHave you ever looking in the mirror and hated everything you sawFrom the way your hair has those little fly awaysTo the shape of your big toesAnd, literally everything in between?Have you ever realized how much you really hate your personalityAnd , that because of how much you really hate yourselfYou put a wall up to keep others outBut, then say up all night crying because you are so lonelyHave you ever looked down and pinched up the fat around your middleSwearing to yourself that you're never going to eat againOnly to have your plan last a week at mostThen you feel even worse for failing at that too?Have you ever looked at your face and realized how much make you needJust to feel like you look normalThen torn at the imperfections you are trying to coverMaking it impossible for you to ever actually hide them?Have you ever laughed out loud, only to hate the soundYou can only think of the kid that made fun of the way you laughedSo you decided to put on the facade that y