reminder: don't forget

Gum is words and brain cells stick to the roof of your mouth yet all you blow is a bubble.

Take control be more subtle.

Be that house wife that cleans the counters but is a feminist on the inside.

Your personality coincides with your availability.

And this activity is slow.

Don't you know that no one wants to burst your new confidence but it is bothersome.

You talk too much about the screaming walls of your lungs.

No one wants to see that.

To hear that.

More than once.

You've stepped out the doors,

You've claimed relevance.

It's time to recompense for not being quiet enough.

For not being you but for being another version.

This part in the play is what you crave but do you realize that its the ensemble.

You've been there before but at least you have lines.

You recite them until others memorize.

Advertise yourself as a friend with basic lines while the main character goes through life.

Be more poised collected into a pond of similarity.

The problem is you're outspoken.

You vocalize to summarize outside of the sidelines.

You aren't even benched. No you're on the field conversing with the enemy.

What enemies do you have?

Now that you realize that they were right all along.

You should've said thank you,

But you just hid everything inside until it spilled out red

Instead of living you breathed.

Disbelief falls out of her mouth

Just before this started going south.

Your ears swim with doubt cause you don't know what to say.

Dismay arises as a courtroom reprises.

But this time its under your tongue instead of your palm.

You cannot control out of fear,

And those tears are tears of joy,

Forgone is skepticism,

And sexism is undermined by ignorance to you,

As you know you're happy where you are,

But it doesn't have to be the star of your personality.

Maybe you are just excitable,

Or maybe its just the most interesting thing about you,

You're able to love and attract,

but I wish you would step back,

And take it in,

That seven months is a long time,

That four years is a long time,

That rv’s are expensive and you cant get a job,

And you're a slob,

Cause you cant seem to hold down simple grammar,

And you stammer,

As the changes of weather make you depressed,

And the changes of company make you depressed,

And the changes from no medication to some make you depressed.

I think its well stressed,

That you don't belong here. No.

You belong in the stratosphere,

Far beyond the terms of time in ashes mixed with ink blobs.

But your tethered down souls tied to uneven ledges.

Those barbed edges are dulled.

But they still sting when they lash out and cut your eyes.

Teasing you with ideals, assuming those ideals came out of your own mouth.

Pronouns are flexible,

And you just love the sound of androgynous.

You love the sound of being happy with someone.

You love the sound so much it plays on repeat in your head demanding to be put down on paper instead of taking it like a pill no one would know.

No one would know you took that painkiller but you have to make it physical,

Because if it’s physical then it's real, and if it’s real it breathes, and if it breathes your not crazy for finding a pulse beneath the sleeve.

You’ve been in the dark so long you began to love the silence of waiting pain.

You’ve allowed yourself that peace but then you allowed yourself light and now pencil scratching of love notes instead of suicide notes became your soundtrack to surviving life.

You play it on repeat but you haven't memorized the words so you improvise.

You summarize a lifetime in three months but three months would take a lifetime to explain.

Explain the simplicity of how you tore away your exoskeleton and became not a butterfly but a moth that decided to feed from flowers instead of the sun in a bottle.

Because flowers are beautiful. In every way.

Light is temptation that kills,

It had killed you over and over and over again.

But flowers only gave you deluded clarity.

This light leads the way they say but the sun is out.

And flowers have this density,

A kind only viewed by horrid nature as a hilarious joke.

And the moth that is you laughed and laughed as you paint your wings to match petals.

As you meld to become what is so right and unnatural.

Deceiving looks as people you've known become strangers that love you.

You don't belong in a world of superficial regulars turning envy green.

You aren't allowed where the grass is brown.

You don't belong in this body unless someone accepts you for it.

That is only when you feel validated but that person has to be genuine.

And the only genuine you found was born wrong.

The only flaw is that fire doesn't burn for them.

No it makes you happy but not in love,

Glory is a novel sitting there trying to not look like she's paying attention,

Are you paying attention?

That guy, he's a cover, he's what you pretend is yours so others run for cover,

Against your raging storm.

You become mad with passion,

Because it is your fashion,

It is your style to be all in before the game begins,

It is your style to never repent your real sins,

Because those sins make you comfortable in your own skin.

The skin on your teeth is peeling off from all the times you've told the same story,

Glory begins with once upon a time and you've slammed the last chapter closed,

Because you're worried of being exposed how amazing would it be is they was infatuated by you as you are to her,

How amazing would it be to have even spoken a word instead of turning your head so quickly you got whip lash.

And the backlash keeps trash like you at bay.

You have to realize you're not worth it.

Whoever they are deserves better than someone who assumed that when you die you get angel wings.

That after death you live happily ever after that your dream life awaits with your beloved.

That's what made you want to die.

That's what made you want to live.

The possibility of an alternate ending,

Keeps you sending your love in poetry written with haste,

The distaste to those who see rainbows in black and white,

They would hate your poetry because its addressed to who you truly love.

Why would you try to preform what is,

You were never a good liar.

Bad things transpire,

When you tell the truth.

They will never understand you.

You know this is true,

Last year still sears your mind,

Of when people were less kind,

You realize they were right,

But you've never listened to your left brain anyway.

And who’re you to say,

That any of this is okay.

Do you really care?

They matter to you and you know it,

You don't even know them,

Yet they are a flower.

A pansy.

You can tell the second they stepped into the room.

A fucking pansy…

You doubted for a second because of the past.

And the present lifestyle.

But you reconsider never reconcile,

And you couldn't shut up for the rest of the night,

Couldn't focus if they were in sight,

Even more distracted when they were.

But you wouldn't dare approach them,

Cause what if you're wrong,

And this love song,

About meeting on a subway

Is too close to the truth.