Danger: Words may be larger than they appear.

I once loved a girl the same way I still love the rain, Because it sounds like nature is talking to you, This girl somehow convinced me that my dreams were something I should abandon, For money, for a more realistic success, This girl got me away from the only thing I have ever been good at, words, She obviously never paid attention to me before her, or during her, Because if she had, she would know, That words are the only thing I've got, Talking to people, I do, Well, Writing, I love, whether or not I do it as fantastic as I one day will, Writing is the greatest lover, she lets you be exactly who you are, I convinced myself that this girl could be my world, But she wasn't ready for that, Never would be, So while she runs full steam at her brick wall of mediocrity, I am running back to the rain, and the words, Because they are the only things that allow me to listen to myself, I will never let another woman own me the way she did, I can still love someone ...

I'm at work, Blonde Haired, Blue Eyed Kid, Comes in, My age, "I'd like the five dollar footlong buffalo chicken," Already expecting something I cannot give him, "Can't do that, the owner said we can't," "Oh, he must be a jew," He chuckles to himself after it slides out of his mouth like its truth, My world shudders, Fists clench, Smile, collapses, I spent the rest of my time with him shocked, Grasping for a retort, Trying not to throttle him with my fists and some knowledge, I wish I had said something because I am still shaking, From the fear of how easy the words passed through him, I am angry I stayed quiet, But my glares at him gave him an idea of it, I should have spiked his sandwich into the ground, Should have refused to serve a racist, He took up two tables, One for him, One for his sweatshirt, I almost said "No wonder the Jews seem stingy when you take two of everything," I am mad at myself for ...

Which one of you motherfuckers did it? Who fed me this knowledge after midnight? Who made me write with the streetlights and the stars? When I finally can afford to move out of my moms house, Again, I am going to write on the walls of my new place, Even if I do not own it, Because the walls are the only things that feel big enough in my space, To even consider the possibility of harnessing my voice, I will write fluffy bunnies carrying candy in their scrunched up mouths on the ceiling, To wake up with a smile, I will write, Get your goddamn shine on, In the mirror, For those mornings where the world wants to tell me I am not this sexy, I will put my memories in several places, The happy ones will be in the kitchen because food and happiness add flavor to each other, The sad ones will be in the basement or the attic, Like a former lover that I can still go wallow in, The proud memories will be my toothpaste, Because I smile a lot, Writing on the walls will fee...