My Terrible I’s

My demon eyes.

My unruly ‘fro,”.  Unsex

The lacquered, (black) sky.

(Relieving it’s arrogance). 

My own (will be glaring,) 

Among shining stars,  bright 

and oblivious-Unscathed 

by haters-

and I’m laughing  

In the face 

of contempt and 

Her novelties.

                                       fin


 

FML

I think that I offended someone, 

back at the garage…

But you wouldn’t tell me anyway .

I think I might have slighted god,

and pissed the neighbours off….

But you wouldn’t tell me anyway.

I heard your family talk of whores, 

drug addicts and assholes.

(I suspect they were talking of me…)

But you wouldn’t tell me anyway.

For “crimes against civility, 

morality, and decency…”; 

(in my absence, I was sentenced), to

                    Life.

I’m glad you didn’t tell me.
                                       

                                         fin 

   
 

The Road Not Taken

  
I am the road not taken.

I am not offered,

Nor displayed. 

A lease, overdue-

Never signed by me, or you.

I am the slow burn.

I am modesty.

I’m honesty, and suffering.

I’m hate without forgiveness.

I am the road that has never been taken.

In hotels, I have always been

the room that has never been stayed in.

I am the dead end road (again),

the obstacle, the swell.

To Vegans, I’m a carnivore.

In Peace on Earth, I’m Hell.

I am the vehicle awry.

I beg for maintenance-attention.

I need your filthy love,

but, I prefer your base affection.
                                   

                                        fin

  
                        

                                 

Stay

  

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry if your dad left you.

I’m sorry if your dad hit you.

I’m sorry if your dad passed away.

I’m sorry if your mom left you.

I’m sorry if your mom hit you, or got hit by your dad.

I’m sorry if your mom passed away.

I’m sorry if you get bullied.

I’m sorry if you cut your wrists.

I’m sorry if you can never sleep at night.

I’m sorry if you throw up after you eat, because you don’t want to gain weight.

I’m sorry if you cry in your room for hours.

I’m sorry if you get called a faggot for being gay.

I’m sorry if you get called a tranny or a girl, if you identify as a male.

I’m sorry if you get called a boy, if you identify as a female.

I’m sorry if you feel like both genders, and get told it doesn’t exist.

I’m sorry if you identify as a gender, and get told you are confused.

I’m sorry if your boyfriend or girlfriend hits you.

I’m sorry if you feel like your not good enough.

I’m sorry if someone broke your heart.

I’m sorry if you got cheated on.

I’m sorry if your in foster care.

I’m sorry if your homeless.

I’m sorry if you would rather be homeless, because being at home is torture.

  

I’m sorry if you rake your nails down your arms.
I’m sorry if you feel like nobody cares.

I’m sorry if you feel invisible.

I’m sorry if you feel you won’t be as “pretty”, or “handsome”, as someone else. But guess what? You are beautiful.

I’m sorry if you don’t want to be saved.

I’m sorry if you do want to be saved, but nobody is around to help you.

I’m sorry if you lost a loved one.

I’m sorry if your brother or sister has a mental illness.

I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you.

I’m sorry if you’ve been sexually harassed.

I’m sorry I’ve not always been there when you needed me.

I’m sorry if you have to sell drugs or do them, because you hate reality.

I’m sorry for all the pain you kept inside for so long.

I’m sorry if your heart is broken.

I’m sorry if you feel this way.

  

But I know that with everything that is going wrong, one day it will go right.
I care about you. I want to give my all to show you how worth it you are.

I want you to live. I want you to fight this, I need you here.

All your pain is something that probably followed you everywhere.

I know things are hard, and nobody understands what you’re going through.

You fake a smile, but I can see it.

You think you’re unloved, but I love you so much. I promise you’re loved.

If you think it’s time for you to go, it’s honestly not, this isn’t worth it.

I know you want to die, nobody would miss you right? Those thoughts are a lie, those demons in your head are lying to you. All those people telling you to kill yourself arn’t there when you need a hug, they arn’t there when you’re punching walls.

They assume you won’t do anything, they arn’t there when you’re breaking down and crying, but I promise you’ll feel better soon. Don’t do this.

Don’t leave me.

I need you.

You’re worth it. I know enough.

I love you.

I’m always just a message or call away.

Stay strong.

  

This poem was written by Jaemi Manning, and Dillon Chase.

          __________________________    

Ode to Lost Children…

This is my life…and it

is rotten. It is flawed.

I am too often exhausted, 

by overthinking, and dark days-

very poor judgement calls, and

vanity, to abasement. 

There is always a reason, for 

my binges, blackouts, and 

magnificent stupidity; (it

is very likely), the profound

and hateful futility (of it all).

If there were more than 

just my wasted life-

(hanging in the balance)…

It would be a cataclysm-

(especially for those 

swaggering douchebags, who 

will never, 

         ever 

               quit…)

I miss my kids. (The 

world stopped turning, a

long 

     time

          ago).
                    

                     fin 

 

my words are more….

Its   been   over   2  months 

since   we   started   getting   dirty.

Since   I   got   all   wet   and   oily,

begging   you   for  a response-(in X-

cessive volumes).  My 

(adoring) lips, are 

needy.  And I’m  (just) a   

waning child, consumed  

by heat-stroke, and…. 

suggestive  connotations.