Suicide Missions

I travel through the darkness
To find the orphan child
The ones who don’t know they’re alive
Zombies they might be, but I know
What they can be
I used to be dead, just doing enough to get by
Just doing whatever they told me
I wanted to get it done, so I rushed through it
I dreamt of a perfect imperfection
Imperfect practice molded perfect pretending
Until I decided I wasn’t going to ride the wave
But be the catalyst
Now I don’t write but am written
No longer just reading but being read
Not a lover but being loved
There is a solemn liberation in silence
You have to be okay with being secluded
But once you let the whispers guide you
And the night terrors heighten your tolerance
You can see everything you need to know
Now the shouting doesn’t scare me
And I can run into the burning buildings
Save the ones I was meant to support
I’m coming for you
And then
I’m coming home
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Check Please (I’m Tapping Out)

Are you happy now

With the way I turned out

You tricked me out, flipped me off

And scorned me before the world

Aren’t you delighted

With the scars on my face, the crimson stains

Skin dry with hunger for belonging

Eyes wet with thirst for solace

Tears homeless in a sanctuary of brothers

I shiver in the arms of a cold blooded world

Acceptance is hardly an issue

I have not room to breathe

Nor vision to see, shrouded in mystery

Why some resent, but others tolerate

The bridge between the gap wasn’t mine to create

But it is to endure

Till a beginning that renews everyday

And an end that won’t come, in spite I pray

And that’s why they’re never answered

Because I’m angry and spiteful of my past

The things I’ve done I thought would never last

Yet here I am burying their ugly heads

But they breathe within me, you see

See, as long as I live they too continue deeds

Of anxious anger awaiting eruption

Self esteem pressure cooked and boiling over

Rotten glances at those who annoy

Everything hurts, the sunlight burns

The moon tases, the stars tingle

Looking at girls and remembering I’m single

Wondering how hard it is to mingle

Then I do it, and regret

I’m not ready yet (10 years later)

Check, please

I’m tapping out

Session Two

It’s business

This pain against you

Ensnared in the Dream, no one

Can rescue you

The end is near

And so very far away

With every day you age

You get younger

Dumber

Lifeless as a pen on a shelf

Waiting to be made into the abstract

Motionless inside half beating heart

Comatose

Living and dying you are

In the vein of their gravity

No escape, not without the cry of blasphemy

“How dare you betray us”

“Do you think we’re really that bad?”

You deserve what you did, don’t you?

Spoiled little brat

Life can be a pain in the ass

But we’ve all got our paths

So stop complaining

They’re your parents after all

They know what they’re doing

Therapy Session One

Sitting in the middle of the room

Come on in, close the door behind you

We’re starting soon

Take off your makeup

Throw away yesterday’s eyelashes

Let me see your bare lips

Bitten, bloody, and bruised

Take off your gloves

The marks of chains aren’t mine to choose

Stand up for me, and expose your back

The welts and wilted skin aren’t in lack

The two, rusted lines like railway tracks

Is this the life you asked for?

Why can’t you stand, why do you shudder

What has happened to you child

Tell me

(I can’t help you)

Tell me

(They really can’t help us)

Is it your mother?

Is it your father?

Ah yes, that explains the size of the marks

That distinction certainly sets them apart

Now, what are they like, to start

Why does one help you, and the other hurt

Oh, they both do it

Well that adds some complexity to it

But you say, one is physical

The other is mental

You’re quite the case

Yet not far from the norm

I suggest you go back to them

Because they clearly love you

They express it differently

Have a good afternoon

MISS FERGUSON? THREE O’FIVE FOR MISS FERGUSON?

(You’re doing great kid)

(They’re doing great)

Our Boys Aren’t Alright

WAMTAC
Home of the fatherless
Roads paved by the wanderers
This country is lost, losing all sense of sense
Splurging dollars but scraping cents
Because the boys have no essence
No authority at home, we walk the lonely
No leadership to follow, we become the lonely
Looking up to boosters, pimps, any homie
Stressed out, doped up, we make you lonely
Bullet in the thigh, bullet to the brain
They all bleed one way
Bullet in your heart, bullet in a hundred hearts
Anything to rip your reality apart
Because ours is in video game violence
And pornographic nonsense
Get killed? Press restart
Getting jacked off? Press restart
Watching dicks ripping open white asses
Fuck one, two, three, four, any moving thing
That wants to get smashed
Losing what makes us men, sitting on our asses
Gaming away, jerking away, every bit of life
Flushed away
Down these roads I see sons go
Kicked out at 18, the world seems so large
Left without a guide, mind becomes its own
Right away the thoughts start to grow
Before you know, you’ve created a monster
For you, four of you, get down on your knees
It’s time to blow
Some weed, some dicks
To the lost it’s all one trick
To the lonely, it only takes a click
And a trigger
Next thing you know, you’re bigger
Than your present, future, and past
You’re mowing down kids just like Trevor
Under a bridge, or speeding on the overpass
GTA helps you find your way
I’ve got this bitch motherfucker
Goodnight fucker, say your prayers
God don’t exist, but this AR-15 does
Bullets raining down, a dozen doves
Falling from the sky in the form of souls
Taken without remorse or regret
The boys of this country are paying forward
Debt incurred by fraudulent bankers, fathers
Who don’t know how to treat an investment
Good men, brave men, rise and grow
Until the world hears the wonders they know
But the troubled rot and riot
Stay up late, believing the lies
They have to buy it
Because there’s no one else
To hear their misery
So it’s left to us
To clean the blood they’ve spilt
 

Here I Go,Once Again

THE-BOLD-MOM_doubt

There’s a time

When I sit down

Stop writing

I look at the cuts

On my wrist

Razorblade cuts

On my neck

And staring at my words

Wondering why

I do this

Why I tell you

What only god knows

Breathing slowly

Despite rapid heartbeats

Why I love her

Or hate her

It depends on the name

Why I struggle with you

Then hit it off

With them

Or why I even bother

Telling you

Where I’m going

We’re all going

To the same place

When we die

Maybe it’s because

I’m not good

At anything else

Or because writers

Get girls

Or money

(sometimes neither)

Maybe I just like

Listening to myself talk

Or maybe it’s something else

Suddenly I remember

Who’s reading this

And I pick up my pen

Once again

The Cold World (Outside America)

the-wounded-sky

cold world

we live in a cold world

rising temperatures have the oceans

whipping up super storms

destroying lives, stealing homes

and we scream catastrophe

yet we murder those

before they’re even born

and we scream humanity

because it’s progress giving women power

to pick and choose who to kill

we’re America and yet we behave like savages

it’s a bitter pill, seeing the death at record rates

far from a thrill is the torrid pace

we’re racing towards war, China, Japan

and North Korea

but good forbid your last name is Lee

hate to be ya, wouldn’t wanna see ya

when the blood starts raining

I won’t tell who’s black, white, or green

when the nukes start dropping

how many will think it’s another Hollywood dream

there is no green screen

that’ll protect you from the fall

so I learn and grow while I have the chance

before the shit hits the fan

with very foul word

and every legalized murder

with every ignored crime

like telling people GMO’s are fine

when our corn is recognized worldwide

as a pesticide

with every child sold into slavery

and every liberal who gets upset

cause Trump called Hillary a nasty lady

with every Chinese worker who commits suicide

to make your iphone, don’t ask why, it’s too late

when the government tells you

that men and women are all the same

and there’s no such thing as aliens

our clocks are ticking

and we’re too stupid to ask why

So I’ll ask you now

what are you doing with this time

 

 

 

 

 

You Only Know Who You Think I Am

a_northern_light_cover

Poetically cunning

words leaving brains and hearts humming

and while you’re eager to read on

you only know who you think I am

late night writes with Pete Wentz in my ears

in attempt to ward off nightmarish fears

but I put on a smile to cover it up

so you only know who you think I am

work is mental drudgery, and family is worse

but my good moods come in spurts

they think I’m okay

but you only know who you think I am

inside I feel like I’m dying

and this week wants to make me stop trying

but I don’t tell you what’s really going on

and you only know who you think I am

I stand in the pouring rain

there’s little I like better

but you think I’m insane

and I let you believe who you think I am

I sit by myself, I have no friends

hell, it takes me ten minutes just to press send

you think I’m antisocial and crude

stupid world, you only know who you think I am

I write everyday

to reveal everything

and nothing

to make you think you know who I am

I am depressed, anxious, angry, and dejected

broken, shy, disheartened, and rejected

failure makes me afraid to try again

socially I have to pretend

I hope I’m not like this forever

because there’s gotta be someone out there

I just haven’t met her

or I did

and I failed her

(now I’m regretting everything again)

you no longer have to guess, now

you know who I really am

 

Taking My Own Life

nano

I just might give up

on life

maybe get reincarnated

and allowed to make it right

everywhere I go

people seem to be laughing

and everywhere I go

the masquerade is crashing

I’m not ten anymore, I can’t hide behind my family

I’m nearly an adult, even though I don’t want to be

I don’t feel like I’m ready

I . Don’t. Feel. Ready.

I can’t make friends, my family doesn’t even like me

“he’s not much fun to be around” I heard my mom say

and brother and sister agreed

“he hears more than you think he does”

that’s also true

and it’s why I hate you

uprooted me out of my home

never gave me a chance to adjust

and threw me a few miles north

become a man I must

or risk losing all I ever had

which was just pens, notebooks,

a nearly full writing pad

just over 225 blog posts, three award winning articles

and one published in the October 2015 Edition

of Teen Ink

but they never let me think

the way I was created to

they just expect me to function

the way they do

no wonder I fail, you stupid asshole

excuse the profanity

but I just can’t take it anymore

no space to be an Aspergian

no space to be me

but underground has plenty of room

that I’m sure you can see

the tension is rising, the anger turning me raw

my mouth bleeds

from the pressure of it all

I read works of other aspies

and see how they overcome

(thanks Laina, Beth, Marisa, Keely)

(I’m sure I’m forgetting some)

but they can’t solve my pain

they can’t give me a family

that understands my name

talk behind my back, just like my Dad did

but told me he was this terrible person

and here you are, pretending to be holier than thou

I guess that makes you worse, then

all I’ve ever wanted

all I’ve truly wanted

was a family who understands me

someone who hears me

and someone who loves me

for who I am

not what they want me to be

not what their eyes can see

I am autistic, but human first

please, let me live happily

God forbid I tell them

how I feel

they’ll just shrug it off

the weirdo at it again with another squeal

so I bury it deep inside

deep inside my bones

it’s rotting my mind

stealing my time

and taking me away from home

or maybe I want it to

take me away from them

they don’t know me, they never will

I can’t be free, so to this heart

can I kill?

 

 

Published On SpillWords!

wamtac

Hey everybody. I’ve been feeling down lately and wasn’t in the mood to publish any poetry tonight. I DID get published again on SpillWords. My poem, “Pleadings Against The Preposterous”, got published yesterday and I’d hope you’d take the time to read.

(It’s about teenage suicide)

http://spillwords.com/pleadings-against-the-preposterous/