Let's be rad and dance.

We're a youth involved in books of faces and denoting which space is ours. We're going to jail for possessing. We're youth? No, we're drugged. Call me when our kids are grown, dead and gone, and their children have the chance to not screw everything up.

Youth is a billboard with a black eye and busted lip. I tried. We're not stopping, we're speeding through the trees. We've got heat in the trunk and yellow winds creeping through the creak-ed windows. It's more aerodynamic than we expect.

Bandwagons have comfy seats, she says, but I think I'll catch the next one. Or I'll walk to the destination and save us all the trouble, thanks.

Unchallenged. In every degree, we're living without rules because it's true, dear, that "no one loves you in winter." Thought? If everyone's being unique, it isn't unique anymore. Grab a dictionary. or a razor, they're on sale.

You're living my life in rewind. You have my friends, my school, my spot, my vacation, my words, my thoughts. I'm sick of sharing with you. So we're not "gonna" be friends anymore. I'm giving up March and time for lent, and you're just gorging yourself. It's joust, it's jest, it isn't funny so give it a rest.

Gorgonic. With poems on telephone poles and I'm a hippie or a graffiti artist, either way, it's bold or frank or unruly. The point was a 50, and I'm four points from the feast.

And the bangs are so long, the eyes can't see for crap. lovely. I'll just shut my mouth and tear some paper for pay. A monkey could do this... and probably more accurately. Nimble, finicky, heart of darkness, and a test? I'm working Sunday, let's dance. It's boogey and disco and apparently the newest "rage." jesus, what an age. Our future is looking pretty dim.

What's a hammer doing taped up to our wall? That's gaul or gumption or function? We're nailed, anyways. I've been boned by CVS. congrats.

Mariah to ground control, major Tom got us fucking lost. navigation, ever been to rocket school? Tin can? more like an endless wasteland of misery. Also known as Orlando. Asshole. What did you do with my step? It's missing. You better bring that back right now or I'm exclamation-pointing your vials, got that clear? nicely nicely, and precisely. We're fear.

less, I guess.

March.

Auto-response begins the day you call first.

It's not your fault, it's hers, and mine, and theirs.

You're being blamed, because we're unresponsive to irresponsibility. 

I'd know; I'm on the poster for irrationality.

Don't begrudge this. October is a gossip guru, but he's aware of how you feel. Four years he was the target. And with anniversaries approaching, the 28th is unresponsive. So we're aiming at the eleventh. I'm a good shot, a straight arm, and an accurate marksman, for once, for twice, for thrice, who knows? I don't have to make sense when it comes to you, it's candle-groaning-crying time so leave me alone to pout. 

Disambiguation- when you come to despise a month for holding the highest and the lowest moments of a lifetime. No, wait, that's insanity, with nothing to do uncertainly. Please, skip those days. I know I'm not ready to rewind. I've been holding fast-foreword for about a year now, don't make me give up the remote. 

Progress for mariah's brain is not enough to sway. If you put me through this torture, I'll kill myself. Unthreatened? What do you care, you're a month! I'm ushering in May. because April is just as shitty. The worst time of the year, and what have you given me? Nothing to fight it with! Absolutely nothing. What am I suppose to do?

Krystal. god. I can't be expected to forget when you keep sending back the days that remind me. You hurt. fuck. Go fuck yourself, March, stay away from me. I'm giving up time and March for lent. April, too. It's detox. please, just give me some space to survive. 

See? Just thinking about it ruins the poetry. You can't live with forget in your memory.

The Wizard of God.

I won't leave this city until your eyes are pretty again. Paste your makeup and glue some youth, we're stuck in this mud 'til Tuesday. Sexy boys do not land themselves in Marine Science camp, those ads are crap. 

There's a sound in a sense and a stupid text I'd like to light on fire. I'd watch it burn and in class, it'd eventually be my turn. "Raincheck, please, I seem to have misplaced my book."

We lost. Plus, we were made to suffer. Again, if I'd known it was trendy I would've waited. If it hadn't been March, it would've been November and it would still suck in the end. There's a lot of contractions, contradictions by nature, I see. Maybe I could speak literally? Ignoring apostrophe and just saying it without all this combining of consonance?

These shoes are made for slipping and that's all I've done since Friday.  Particularly counterproductive in it's essence. With such a decline, I find I've had less gratifying ideas.

I surely have?

The feature of the induction is not a paper white robe. There's a doorknob. We've melted it, though, so good luck trying to escape. Two tons of irony delivered, and we're fetching twisted insanity for love. We're in love with love, but not love itself. It's unrequited and hopeless, but nowhere near romantic. That's the awkward part. 

White robes and escape routes? Clearly, They're trying to severe my arm. Bank solid. Dance irrationally? And though regrettably, language is truly a barrier, I can still understand you. You know what I'm saying, too. 

Go balls deep. And then get off on such patriotic devices based on hot chocolate and false support. It's only cancer. It's just a small vulnerable infection within your bloodstream that makes you sustainable to every conceptual illness. I hope not only does it give you hell, but herpes, rabies, scabies, and all other veneral diseases. We never said it'd be easy, sweetie.

But we said we'd be fair. That's why. That's precisely why it throws a sardonic abstract beat poet for a loop, a square, and a triangle. Baby, these days we're all shapes. Instinctual, but I'm positive I skipped the day they handed it out. Along with an incredulous mispronunciation of figurative language, and we've all got C's because Mariah cut points from the Beloved Essay. whoops.

You're faking it, I should know. You poor, poor thing. With that haircut, and a gentlemen of proportional standards, I bet you think you're the happy one. You've heard every sentence I had against you, every tear that carpet absorbed for you, and every curse word my mother scolded me for, all for you, love. And there's nerve to walk away? Keep them. I lit all mine on fire. And I hope you see your junior yearbook picture and think of me when you notice the chain around both our necks. "Forever/Friends?" as it should be. I wouldn't even begin to guess, but I would know. 

Thought. was repressed. Condoned by catholic repercussions. And it isn't exactly religious, more spirituous, which is an ornery word in itself. You can be the distilled water, I'll be the engorged amount of alcohol. We're "gonna" mix 'em together, and they're "gonna" explode to our faces. Will you think of me in March? The eighth, the tenth, and the eleventh. It's my triumvirate. Please hold peace, some of us are approaching the climix of our lives, thanks.

*ding* *pause* ding *ding*

Don't think we've done our time? Hey, I'm cool because I grow upside down tomatoes in my vegan alternative lifestyle. And I wear skinny jeans that are purple with infected bowling shoes, so I must be awesome. Could we be more scene right now? I don't think so. ick.

I was not aware that disambiguation existed and now I'm disappointed. So the uncertainty of a word or situation can be removed? There's no fun in that. Why bother in the first place? Then what is it? And Oxymoron? The causal factors of this discovery are not oblique but still I don't enjoy them. Maybe I liked the confusion, the misinterpretation and blatant rancid equivocalness. Sometimes we need a little anarchy to keep us from rebelling...

We retire to cogitate and smoke a nice bowl. There's nothing wrong with being derisory. unless, of course it's reflective of our "inadequacies." meditate with me, and then again we're doin' time like Danny in Ocean's Eleven. 

and my toes have grown larger than tokyo. I'm glad you find this funny. You won't when it's time to go for burgers and my feet won't fit through the door. What will I wear over those enormous toes? My socks have rendered off and the bowling shoes are long gone, but still they grow on. They're gaining a private nation-state with the square footage they've just reached. I will be Mariah and they will be toes, just so everyone knows. 

Getting into the car will be nigh impossible. The toenails are bigger than your windshield. It's a hazard, but I'm hungry enough to allow it. I need another seatbelt for my enlarged fetiches. 

It's Summertime. We're wearing blazers. and sweltering wool scarves. They're from garage sales with the keeper's of your brother. I guess I get the title, but I am not my brother's keeper. I'm not even my brother's sister. What say you at that?

We have these relations. With each other. All of us. It's based solely on words and the words are based solely on disconnection. we can convey our content through emoticons and it's sad. If we forget to add a "smiley" we are suddenly portraying hostility. Please, save me from my own generation. They believe in Hiroshima but they don't know where it is. They're preaching equality but they can't work for equal opportunity. Our ancestors did it differently. I "are E ess pee E see Tea" that. With your flying griddle pan, I'm going to knock sense and grease into their heads. They're brains shall be boomerangs. and we're gonna pray they fail to return.

At two twenty nine, we'll shoot all the flies who are here to feast on our decomposition. It's their position, we can't blame them for our indisposition. tion. tion. tion. tion. It's rhyming. shouldn't "tion" be spelled "shun" yes, that'll do. "Indiespozishun". You know what I'm saying; it's working flawlessly. 

Could we write novellas just on the way those trips fell down? I think, I suppose. We should write of our dirty toes. And they way the continue to grow. I could be walking, jogging, talking, sobbing, dying, and still they're gonna keep going. They're persistent. I like that.

I have nothing to dedicate to, so I get to be subdefective (not in the dictionary) it's my right by association, excuse me; "assoshiashun." Let's forgo making tails of ourselves, good sir, there are monuments to dispute such transgressions as infringement on illicit behavior misqualifications (mizkwallifikayshuns, chranzgressshuns, of course.) 

That's ferocity with a bitter tangent of cosine. We don't know what we're doing so we're inventing numbers entitled "imaginary" and those little italic i's are the closest thing to creativity you're gonna get in Algebra 2. Fractions relate with pizza, or pie, or money, and there's a bar in between the numbers denoting bourgeoise versus proletariat. How racist is that? Justification is due in Geometry, too. (justifikayshun.) That's why the orange cones blocked the door and I got to skip in the hallway.

There is sleep deprivation in this bedroom in the sky. (depprivashun.)

Something Clever to Say.

 Next time, remind your hairdresser to open her damn eyes. Or maybe you caused it. Maybe you did it with your scissors and now you must feel stupid. From black men to little white girls, if the house is raided we're all headed for jail. I bet the prison cells have more heat than this bedroom in the sky. "The ink will bring her home"--that was a fucking lie. But it's a baby's world and there's no room for full grown apathy. I'm going home, you're crazy.

At one oh eight, the walls will shake and the foundation itself will crumble. And you'll be stumbling, tumbling along and I'll be mumbling I'm wrong. You were absolutely and unmistakably right. I don't need you to have life, my little dose of reality, my coaxing fatality, the love who fucked my sexuality. Let's quit pretending we're facetious. Let's ignore an attempt to discuss. I hate your hair. No, really, I do. It looks horrible on you. 

You're such a conformist, you're conforming to nonconformity in it's enormity. You can't be unique in uniformity, sweetie, it's disorderly. You're too straight for curly, and it's concerning how shallow the deep end has drained. You left me unexplained as I tried to save your name in the face of administration's aims. I still loved you.

Bolivian Roulette everyday is now an overdramatic cliche. And to everyone else's uncanny dismay, we only found canny disarray on the basis of your steeple from the ceiling-dwelling people we created in pen way back then. 

I'm not afraid, I'm afraid. I climbed above the palisade and watched you in the promenade. I sit upon the colonnade while you parade a tragic crusade away. I'd trade. I'd give anything to have the memories fade today. I've come to a conclusion throughout the confusion: it's impossible to forget Krystal Jeannette. Unless you've a mind for wary. I'm lucky.

It's too much work to miss you, to much effort to hate you, to much care involved to care. You know that place between The collector and the collected? I'm there.

We am. We am imported. We are. We are incapable. We were. We were insatiable. We can. We can apologize. No, we can't, we're insane. Ha ha, we always have been. 

And today we've made a friend. Her name is kickboxing kate. She's a ninja-vicious fluffy puppy with brown fur and green shirts that are too tight for appropriate. Kickboxing kate dates Manic Matt who is a bunny-cat. He's got a nasty habit of forgetting he's a rabbit. They've battled a shiny rhinoceros with necrophiliac tendencies based on his lack of childhood dependencies. In their pharmaceutical land, the Quail and the enormous black panther walk hand-in-hand. You'd think they owned the place. But Kickboxing Kate always saves the day. Often joins her is her mousy cousin, Mouse. Mouse has complex with cats which is why she avoids Manic Matt who is not a cat, but indeed a rabbit with a nasty habit of forgetting he's a rabbit, it happens. There is an ostrich, as well, named Alfred Dufrell and he's got a gun secure in his wing, we think. He wears a baseball cap to tap three times if he thinks he sees a crime. And Shiny Rhino will go with the hyena albino to check out the coast which is clear. 

I've worked in the jungle for about a year and have yet to turn into an Animal. So there. 

Like the ones nights lined with ones-liners.

Je ne suis pas un météorologue!

There's tonic and chronic awareness of how to plow this field. We'll yield. Because we're going to make it right and out of sight, we're strung out to shout of the nights we knew we were flighty; fallen have the mighty--with a small amount of honesty. The electric shut off and the soldier was made to wash his face in chlorine. Boron was a goddess because with a tender few of chivalry the walls were soon made opaque. And where there's a "were" a person always follows. That's what you're here for. Everyone's 'gunna' do it and I'm 'gunna' let you, kiddo.

There will be cake. Let them eat cake. Give him cake. My dear, it's repetition. That's all it ever was. I find many instances to be proud of, and many more to never forget. There was a small in a minute and a grown in only fifteen. Today, the drain was clogged. I had to actually touch it. touche, shower. No longer are we friends.

Today was a flaw in my character. I fused my brain. I think I over-thought. Now I can over-think my over-thinking, as well. It doesn't count when he keeps reaching for his comb, and she's got eight states to lie from. It doesn't matter when they both have miles of heart at stake. How does anyone find anyone to sell their entire heart to after they continuously give pieces of it to wayward teenage woes? Girls, or boys, or whatever. 

When we'd found an enemy, the lines of draw were erased. I caught you with your pencil... and then realized you'd stolen mine. There's no crime in finding nothing better than you or me and that awkward lemonade tree. with a sense of ambiguity because no one's sure if it's left or right or southeast, really.

But we know one thing. shame. we're selling it by the bushel and those sick catholics are buying it. When you walk across that stage, you're just a coupon to their purchase, like a sunday paper clipping. I wont need to pay for the paper when I used to get it free. There's a reason our lives are labeled and you can question the man with the handle.

The vivid way you wrote goodbye was euphonious to my eyes. Though it was a cacophony of rigid tension, I recall you failed to mention that what you did was your doing. I can understand that. I always could and honey, I always will. There's no company in frill or lace when all the wrinkles sprang from the face of our lord. or yours. or shit, mine. We invented care. and then it became a monster and permeated through the air. 

By the time it sank in to your skin, you already hated it. Predestination, preordained, pre-menstrual; whatever it was, it sucked. Katnarat or Switzerland predisposed, and only slightly exposed, It was a yellow rose. I bought it. and he mumbled his signature upon the card. I attempted for you a successful Valentine's day. and now you've fucked that up. So when you're walking through Boston, or New Orleans, Wisconsin, wherever the tune will lead you, I know you'll remember. And a small amount of honesty will prompt you the way September feels before March rolls around. It is sound. Whether you're there to hear it. I'll be near it. Capture that tiny box of truth, and savor it like your gold emblem gummy worms. or your purple cross, the way you've curled on the couch I lost to a cousin. There's a curse word in every rhyme, just lurking in the lines. I'm quitting. and I will never believe in anything again. the end. 

I speak to go.

I come in peices. There's a small pamphlet with directions and my senior picture so you know how it should turn out. Voulez-vous? Nurse, quickly!

So, the proverb writing isn't all that we'd prewritten, and the gifts we gave were unwrapped before we even bought them.

I speak to go; Go awry, Go back, go first or go bankrupt, there's no difference now.

I'd like to give. Give you away from my job. Give down, Give East, give a fix, give time.

Give you a status, or a dollar. Give your virginity. Give a holler. Give a care, Give a gift, whatever comes first on the shopping list.

They took you away and away they took you. The ''they'' you're trying to convey is just your attempt at honesty, while the rest are dead. and silent (cause they're dead.) They're dead and there they have taken what's theirs, and you think it's yours, but they know it's not, so it isn't really, I guess.

I guess they've blown a man for some asian glasses crammed on their head in a choice to pretend they're provocative. Their periods are intense and more than what you'd call "shocking" because they lead down your micro-skinnied legs and end up in your panties.

The legs of theirs were ours and yours and the toes just touched the gas pedal. They wonder why we despise BMWs and navy, the color, not the force. You're turning into they, and when you collide, I'll call an ambulance to drive.

Drive you here, drive the nail, drive your body [their body] to the hospital, I'm not sure. They're really all the same to me, or you, or they.

God's going to be welcome there, but not like "hello, please come in." It's more of a "You're welcome to say thank-you, but not to join us for tea"

I'm not surprised you'd opt for tea, it was they who rattled the locker? They who found the liquor and tattled on their stalker? Nay, it 'twas you. You who has become they. But before the we, the us, and the you, there was an I. Cannot there be an I that becomes a they, so you were never you, you were always them. It isn't particularly shocking.

What turns the light on is not what tickles their fancy, it's more of a one-person opera; With phantoms, and phonons, and phonemes, and polygons, and alleles they've sent to attack us. He becomes impaired and inherently is too left to leave.

Diamond mines he brought back that tore off his lack of finds. We cut slack. cut wrists, cut chords, cut paper, and papercut the wounds from their scissors we stole. They're pierced to know their blades aren't there anymore, they're ears aren't blank anymore.

I speak to go. Go home, go big, don't go, stop, go there, go they're, go their, It can't matter where when where becomes here and they can't spare a stare or fear.