stranger's disease

"i wish i believed you when you said that this was my home"



thoughts about graduating

it's true,
i had time to fix it but i think
i was too scared to stop
waiting for the future to happen.
all my life i wanted to take
the teen years by storm,
and now they are gone.
i don't feel like i've wasted my time,
but the feelings have changed,
i can't sing,
can't dance,
can't write,
or say what i feel.
i don't understand
why i spent so much time
with people who have hurt me
i shouldn't have been me to
become who i am today,
probably 12 yo me
is still crying in the corner.
it took me five years to
learn how not to cry.

it's true,
i could've been so much
more than i am.
i haven't tried to be invincible
and mom is proud of that.
but am i?

guess this life has
just begun.
at least i haven't started
smoking yet.

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drunk poetry slam at 2:00

its like you talk to
me like you knew what
went on in my life but
you've barely scratched the surface;
talk drunk talk too much
but i still say what
i want to say
because i dont know
anybody like you
and the ones i dont know
are dead inside.
i want to go home before
i kneel down in surrender.
take me back to your
rusty hands,
i miss you.
i do.
but will you ever
stop pretending to love me?
pretending to be drunk
is my best quality
i never fail
(sometimes i
dont distinguish
reality though)

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long shots; not pints

there is a young disinterest
in the way you curve your back
or the way your neck bends
backwards when you laugh.
victim of chance, you keep on
taking shots in the dark.
and also taking shots
of crystal which will burn
us out,
I wonder how many times
you have been out,
out in cold alleys screaming
that the system will run
down on us.

(sometimes I consider
how much we are alike
but every trace
leads to nothing.)

there still so much in you
I haven't seen.
so much I can't reach.
there is so much I wanted to ask
about your life.
the people who talk
the less say the most sometimes.

there is a place
inside my head
I always go
but if I open up
I may fall
I'm scared I don't want this again
especially if there is no chance
you will feel the same.

now we'll be gone
part like total strangers.
because that is what school
does to us:
makes us strangers
or ghosts.

guess you are
another long

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To L.L. (Extract), Oscar Wilde

Well, if my heart must break
   Dear love, for your sake,
It will break in music, I know
   Poets' hearts break so

But strange that I was not told
   That the brain can hold
     In a tiny ivory cell
God's heaven and hell.

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what we carry

I'm sorry lover
but we have no skin.
we shred apart
with any moving step.
it's magical; mystical
how we can't get to know
each other.
behind this torn skin
I carry stories.
you carry blank canvases.
I'm scared of changing
you in all of the wrong places.
our hands feel like rust;
I pick the scabs of the past
that won't heal.
when I wanted to disappear
there was a subtle touch
of dry lips
and I breathed in.
now I have to rethink
my choices.
you're my test.
I'm your teacher.

the story repeats itself.

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seriously now

I'm scarless;

and I was never hurt
because I never let anyone
get near me-

flick your fingers
and watch me


i'm tired

guess what came up-
I'm full of hate!

for a second I wondered why,
why would I feel so filled with rage.

it makes sense,
it does,
it does.

I try to fight it
but I only end up hating

I am infected
by a plague.
it's spreading,
it will spread.

I never much wondered
why I felt sympathetic
towards sociopaths

guess I might
be one too.

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november 6th, thursday

Read more »

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styrofoam boots / it's all nice on ice, alright

well all's not well
but i'm told that it'll all be quite nice
you'll be drowned in boots like Mafia
but your feet will still float like Christ's
and i'll be damned
they were right
i'm drowning upside down
my feet afloat like Christ's
i'm in heaven
trying to figure out which stack
they're going to stuff us atheists into
when Peter and his monkey laugh
and i laugh with them
i'm not sure what at
they point and say
we'll keep you in the back
polishing halos, baking manna and gas
well some guy comes in looking a bit like everyone i ever seen
he moves just like crisco disco
breath 100% listerine
he says looking at something else
but directing everything to me
ever time anyone gets on their knees to pray
well it makes my telephone ring
and i'll be damned
he said you were right
no one's running this whole thing
he had a theory too
he said that god takes care of himself
and you of you
it's all nice on ice alright
and it's not day
and it's not night
but it's all nice on ice alright



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