If ever they’re we’re princesses
As wonderful as they
There’d be no need for petty things
like what I’m now to say
One of them is daylight
As sweet as ever known
She plays and sings with morning rise
And golden is her thrown
She’s always optimistic
And tricky I confess
A goddess of pure mischief
And getting lots of rest
The other is a darker sort
Of moonlight and of thought
Her guided pen or pencil
Will trace what you have sought
She is an artist of the night
And moonbeams are her paint
The patron of this art form
Is one I’d call a saint
These princesses ruled happily
Together and apart
They taught each of their kingdom well
And each is true in heart
When they step down from the thrones
They give their crowns away
And though it pains me much to know
There are things I must say
I have taken one a crown,
From each of you I’ve learned
My skills are broad yet incomplete
I feel my title’s earned
I have time left to ponder
Upon my royal thrown
I never can forgot those
That once called this their own
Thank you much my angels
You’ve taught me well this year
I hope you know you’ll always be
To me so very dear
The new adventure now begins
For you and yes, for me
I know that you will always now
The ones I want to see

Telepathy is
flushed skin and desperate silence,
hidden arousal and
undermined secrets shared between unwilling lovers lips.
It’s equal pain and equal mess and equal feeling.
Same blush and nervous butterflies.
Skimming fingers over each others stomachs
without touching.
It’s sarcastic get backs and apologetic dreams.
It’s the same emotional status.
The same songs stuck on repeat
and mind blowing sex.

Only the very best of friends.

There’s a lot of things in my life worth remembering. The first time I ever moved. My parent’s divorce and remarriage to different people. The birth of my half brother. The first kiss I ever had.

It doesn’t make you the same person you would have been. Part of it makes you stronger. Part of it makes you more intelligent. Sometimes it makes you quicker and wiser and more kindhearted. Sometimes it breaks you into a thousand shards of glass you don’t ever really recover from.

Regardless, you change.

We’ve both changed, I think. I’m a little less dark and a lot less stupid. I’m smarter and stronger and quicker and a lot more cynical. I feel like I’ve finally grown into the shoes I’ve been traipsing around in. My hair’s a bit longer, my vision’s worse, and my voice is able to go a bit farther without cracking.

I’m different, and not a lot of people have the right to deny that.

Looking back on it now, I don’t see everything as nearly as bad it was. I remember it well, I’m sure you do too. It makes me feel like an idiot, but I won’t dwell on it wrong. I overreacted on my part. It was stupid and foolish and most of all it was a lesson. I don’t know what it taught me, but I came out stronger. I’m different.

I think, personally, that the capacity of a human’s emotion doesn’t change as they get older. Height might and so will IQ, despite what they say about it being at a fixated point. All sorts of things change, but the ability to love doesn’t.

And we both know ours certainly hasn’t changed, but I’ll let you decide if that’s good or not.

I think one of the things I miss the most

Is really hard to see

It’s the way you moan against my lips

The way you cling to me

We used to be an item

And even now we are

The other’s never see it

On me it is a scar

It’s right over my heart you know

It never goes away

I’d show it off, but then I fear

The things people would say

They don’t believe that you and I

We’re ever really true

But if they saw the things we did

I think they’d have a clue

No words describe our feelings

We know this to be true

Instead we choose to settle

On words like “I miss you”

I hate Love. It’s terrifying and thick and it drags you under and hold you there in this chemical induced stupor so that you can’t move or speak but the inside of you is burning and screaming. It’s a child wrapped in a bloody lace sheet with long hair and gypsy eyes and a mouth as red as a whore’s.

It’s this parasite inside of you that eats away at everything you have until it’s the only thing left. Sometimes you live the rest of your life with it filling you and holding you supported and sometimes it climbs out of your chest with claws and teeth and rips you into a million tiny shreds of salted and burned wounds.

It leaves you choking on clotted, thick chunks of emotions in the middle of street. It leaves you with mascara stains on white sheets and a desperation to hunt down that one smell in hope you might somehow be able to reclaim everything that’s left you. It leaves you cold and empty and wounded and dark in the middle of back alley in the rain. It leaves you listening to music and sobbing in a coffee shop.

It’s an emotion you can’t control or keep in check or alter or eliminate. It cuts you and loves you and pets you and smiles with too many teeth and smeared lipstick and perfume like a flower of death. It holds you down with stares and pins on a bed and makes put on a show with too much skin and not enough sweat. It makes you beg for everything you can’t get.

It’s loved and feared and adored and worshiped. It makes countries go to war. It ruins perfectly good television shows. It complicates nearly every matter of society.

It’s pretty and young and new and vivid. It pets you when you’re tired and comforts you when you’re about to cry. It complex and crazy and intoxicating and most of all, it’s unlike anything left on this earth. It leaves you breathless and smiling and laughing like an idiot in a tent at three in the morning because you’ve finally figured it out. It makes you bite your lip and throw back your head and moan with utter reckless abandon. It makes you keep going. It keeps you alive.

It’s cruel and unusual and hateful. It toys with you and it plays with you and it makes you believe all sorts of impossible things.

I don’t understand it and I fear it and want to hold it down and fuck it into an incoherent mass of emotion and feathers. I want to bite it until I can taste the metallic copper of blood. I want to force it to tell me its secrets.  I want to decipher it. I want to be in love again. 

Midnight fell over us

like a blanket and

Even when I could feel it,

feel us

and you

Shuddering against me

The sweat pooling

in the hollow of your throat

and your lower back

and my heart and lungs.

Every breath was smothered,

clotted and desperate.

Just to be able to breathe again

but we couldn’t

Don’t you see we couldn’t!?

The blanket was too thick

and too dark.

We ran out of time

with each gasp we sank lower

into the darkness and igonored

every microscopic death

that occurred beneath our waking eyelids

And we stayed that way

hand in hand

and clutching each other

until the sun came up

Your year’s almost up

and your new thoughts are flowing

You’re now at the point

where it’s time to get going

The years have been great

and you’ve had quite a few

And being a Junior

you’re getting what’s due

You used to be new 

Remember the days

when Cottingham taught you

his mysterious ways

And Boyette, do bless her

read tons of good books

which, on purpose or not

won’t improve sleepy looks

There are others of course

And they all are still there

Weakley is great

and he has sexy hair

Senor Bird is attractive

and I will not lie

Were he a teenager

I’d probably die

The Seniors are leaving

they’re saying farewell

they’re going to leave

on that last seventh bell

They’ll miss you a lot 

Don’t forget but remember

The warmth of their love

on that last, cold December

Next year will be great

so don’t cry or dispair

Get through your APs

Don’t pull out your hair

Be nice to the freshmen

Pass all your tests

Sit in the circle

Go on epic quests

Your final year’s here

and it’s gonna be great

Sing the school song

Get a good prom-ward date

My poem is ending

and this much is true

the rest may be lies

but the truth’s in them too

I’m now sick of writing

I’m turning this in

Jay, this is your poem

I’ll put down my pen

feels-in-italics:

i just can’t homework i’m sorry no i’m not

fuck school

that’s right i said it

fuck it to walmart or the dmv or rick santorum’s house

okay time to go study bye

1. Follow You Down to the Red Oak Tree by James Vincent McMorrow

2. Kiss and Tell by You Me At Six

3. Are You Gonna Be My Girl by Jet

4. Starry Eyed by Ellie Goulding

5. One by One by Enya

6.  Eet by Regina Spektor

7. Feel Good Inc. by Gorillaz

8. Stereo Love by Edward Maya and Vika Jigulina

9. Crushcrushcrush by Paramore

10. If I Were in Your Shoes by You Me At Six

11. Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off by Panic! At the Disco

12. Pick U Up by Adam Lambert

1. Cold Hard Bitch by Jet

2. More Than Love by Los Lonely Boys

3. So Happy I Could Die by Lady Gaga

4. Holiday by Green Day and featuring the Broadway Cast of American Idiot

5. O’ Death by Jen Titus

6. Vampires in Blue Dresses by Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s

7. Carry On My Wayward Son by Kansas

8. Economical Animal Superstar by Aural Vampire

9. Hallelujah as covered by Rufus Wainwright

10. Suddenly I See by KT Tunstall

Some would call it romantic.
Others would call it quite queer
But me? I’ve found my new dreamland
A place I know well of, my dear.
It’s all fun to think and imagine
Who all has had sex in this room
Or who, with a phone call, an email or text,
Has come to know of a uncertain doom.
Who’s used the wifi for porn
And who’s ordered pizza at night
Who’s school trip, deemed with duct tape and marks on the door
Show the evidence of some type of fight.
The sheets may be clean
And the glass cups are new
But I know as sure as I sit
On the couch, half asleep, and partially starved
That my tea will be cool in a bit.

I can feel it somedays
Don’t ask me how I know
The beat components in my head
Sometimes get out of row
It leaves me with a headache
And worry, which I can
No matter what the time of day
Or who’s the given man
They say that I’m too smart for it
A genius should know how
To put aside their differences
With others, but right now
I wish you all would please shut up
And leave me to my book
I have bloody interest in your games
And no I won’t go look
If you wish to know the truth
I find quite mundane
You’re simple and you cannot catch
My attention in this game
I do not like you, you talk too much
And I don’t really care
Whether you need an answer
Or if you cut your hair
A word of advice then, before I leave
Take it to heart and soul
I do not care if you like me
Kindness is not my goal
If I do not speak to you
Please try not to speak to me
I find that now, the quietness
Kills my insanity

Anonymous asked: What are your religious opinions?

Oh my goodness something thought provoking. It can’t be. Unanon yourself so I can hug you, whoever you are.

I have three views on religion. One of them is regarding myself. The second is regarding the religious views of others, and the final one is how others choose to share their religions.

I don’t know if every single teenager has that awkward phase in their life where they’ve got everything figured out except for their major , their favorite food, and their religion. 

Sad to say I’m at that point. I don’t believe in Christianity through the church. I honestly actually don’t believe 3/4 of what the Bible says and I probably won’t. At the same time, I don’t believe that our bodies are simply to deteriorate and that there isn’t a force governing our lives and the universe. I like the philosophy of humanism, but I draw bits and pieces from all sorts of religions to form a person philosophy. Nevianity

I like my things complicated okay?

Neva’s 6 Rules of Religion

1. There is a force that governs and setx the rules that the universe(s) abide(s) by.

2.  That force doesn’t meddle in human affairs at all.

3. Or any other thing for that matter.

4. All things contain energy and therefore posses a spirit. Including Staplers.

5. Dying is the ceasement of cellular processes in the body to the point that the conscious is separated from flesh. That conscious will always remain alive in the form of an active energy, but it will usually disperse and inhabit other objects until that object ceases to exist. That cycle will continue.  

6. No day is holy, but rather all days are holy and should be treated with as much optimism and grace as possible.

But if you ask me, I just tell you a Pastafarian.

I’m combining my other two views since they’re basically twins anyway.

I have no problem what’s so ever with any religion. I’ve even attended Church with friends and, other than being very awkward due to lack of social skills, I don’t mind it. I like going because it’s interesting to study people and you meet people and everyone’s nice. Plus there’s food and I like food. I still use the phrases “Dear God” and “For the love of God (or Manchester if I can think properly)” and “Holy shit” and all manner or religious insults as well. 

And no, I have no problem with saying “One nation under God” or praying with the band before a game. 

I also don’t mind people trying to sway me to be a particular religion. I don’t mind Catholics or Jehovah’s Witnesses. I don’t mind occultists. I don’t even mind satanists as long as their either the XIX kind or the Good Omens kind.

6 Things I Do Not Like Regarding Religion:

1. Extreme protests based on religious beliefs. It’s an American right to protest. I respect that. However, you can dislike something and still be civil in your protests.

2. Handing out Bibles in public places, like my school. It’s a serious turn off to me, especially if you’re trying to convince me to be Christian. 

3. Close mindedness regarding religion. The Muslims are not all out to kill us and do our country in.

4. Blaming events on religion or religious scriptures. The Qur’an doesn’t say Muslims should bomb everyone who isn’t a Muslim or who is especially Christian. People of the Book. Muslims. Jews. Christians. Trade Agreements.  

5. Trying to blend religion and politics. It just doesn’t work. I don’t want religion crammed into my face every single election. 

6. Any religion that encourages human injury or pointless violence or belittles the human conscious to the point where it’s degrading and painful to read.  I don’t see how this can be beneficial to anything. It’s over my head.

TL;DR

Religions cool. I’m cool with it, it’s cool with me. We’re like neighbors, only four doors down from each other. Familiar enough to invite to a potluck but distant enough to be pretty much ignored until he needs to borrow the lawn mower I have in the garage.

Do that answer your question? Do you have another one?  

I kind of wish that some days
I could go back in time
To my class mates old ways
And teach them how to rhyme

And dye a cell and name a state
Forget the lunch that they just ate
In favor of pursuing things
Not the obnoxious kid who sings

They cannot name a county
Or label worth a damn
They suck at basic algebra
And don’t know about jam

They cannot use a scalpel
For lab work though I do
Or even dye a skin cell
Using in-dee-go blue

They don’t know when to shut up
Or what isn’t my division
Or even if in front of them
They can’t see what’s in vision

They question me on everything
From society to art
Yet even when I tell them
They take it not to heart

Everything’s a challenge
A question like a door
To open when I’m wrong and
Weary, I hit the floor

I do not know of everything
Though I admit I try
What? No you prat! Copy me? Do I look your mother?
Of course I’m not! Goodbye!

I never really ask for much
Concerning my young kin
But do you think it’s possible
To knock sense into them?