MEGA

MEGA

Many of the monsters that dwell in the deep

Evade the bottommost cave where she slumbers and sleeps.

Great are the restless reverberations so heavy against the walls.

Adaptive and at the ready to take captives in the brawls.

Mega is inside your mind with not

One trace of ever being kind.

Never could anyone stop the

Siege underwater in

Terror to terminate her offender’s falter.

Every soul make way for her path and

Reap the day you incited her wrath.

On the ship where she breached it’s “strong” wooden hull.

Coated in

Tentacles and suckers that attach to every last word’s skull. Built to

Overanalyze and overreact

Post-war it’s body is scar-racked. But today

It stayed to dwell in the cave, and was long forgotten under these quieting waves.

Rate Me (1-10)

Rate Me: 1-10


1

5

7

9

Rate Me Week is here on time!

Grab your facebooks

Your instagrams

Your social medias

 

Lets take these girls

These guys

These…

I’m sorry I can’t tell with that haircut in mind…

 

Faggot.

Ugly.

Hottie.

Her face is too boxy.

 

We’ll rate their:

Curls

Their thighs

Their waist size!

 

4: No one likes natural blondes

3: She never lets guys get what they really want

6: Goodie-two-shoes

2: She called me a douche



2

3

8

You’re a 1

 

Grab your twitters

Your tinders

Your tumblrs.

 

Come and rate me one through ten.

 

Come judge my:

Ear size

My nose size

I’m yours

To demoralize.

 

She’s too fat

too skinny

got too much acne

For now.

 

1: Therez a reason your single

5: braces and desperate.

6: shez kinda weird

 

Dear parents,

There’s this thing that the kids do.

This is our advanced apology,

To the kids and to you.

You see there’s this thing,

That comes once every May.

And there’s not much we can do.

(to our ever so slight dismay.)

Where the kids go on and rate each other.

Mostly the boys to the girls they lust after.

Anyone caught may be suspended.

(but the girls will remain highly offended.)

You see there’s not much we can do,

Nor offer to you.

There’s a counselor here if you’d like.

But we’re sorry otherwise.

(to have let it get this far, we mean.)

We know it’s a problem.

But we’ve failed to do enough.

So here’s your warning:

Rate Me May is coming.

And the self-esteems,

They shall

be

plummeting.

 

Because this is Rate Me Week.

And I wanna know what you think.



This is a time for high schooler’s:

That’s all about looks.

All about the color of bra hooks.



7: hot but comes w a stutter.

9: but your sister wuz better.

 

“What can I do to get a better score?”

Girls ask and implore.

C’mon!

Let’s have it!

Their self-esteem is yet to hit the floor.

 

1: gross

2: ever heard of makeup fugly??

3: youve got crooked teeth

8: suup bae?

10: id fuk u now ;)

 

Why was this ever even allowed?

 

On social media,

It’s important that you:

Rate me please.

So that everyone can see

What it is you think of me!

 

Dear parents,

There’s this thing that the kids do.

This is our apology,

To the kids and to you.

Self-esteems

shall

plummet.

We know no good can come from it.

But unfortunately this happens.

We can’t make it better,

And we’re sorry-

(that it’s happened enough to require a warning letter.)

But,

Rate Me Week is coming.

And it’s when boys come in:

And they rate your:

daughters, your sisters, your family, your friends:

by a hotness scale of-

One through Ten <3

Monster

Monster

he hides under my bed

he hides inside my closet

he hides within those blankets

those pillows

those jackets

he hides within those jeans

he hides

here

let me set the scene:

 

there’s an abandoned home

where it’s all colored monochrome

a layer of dust has turned the colors

and now turns away any others

 

who would step foot here?

who would dare live here?

who would dare come here –even to move out?

 

when he hides

sucking even the walls dry

of memories

of feelings

preparing you better for the leaving

 

he has decided it’s better this way

if you don’t even want to come to move out

surely the move would never be blocked by doubt

 

he hides

in the mattress

in the wave chair

in the dresser

in the headboard

and in all miscellaneous personal treasure

 

who would dare step foot in his room?

who would dare come and face him?

when you’ve run from him for so long

this is no longer a place for you –so go along

 

he hides

in the cabinet

in the spot where the bed used to be

where the Christmas tree used to be seen

 

and he controls

in fear

in dread

in that lump in your throat

in that turn you make to walk away

 

when you finally have no other choice

you have to stand and fight

and you stare right into the face

right into the face of that Monster –that you created.

 

he’s inside the closet you’re cleaning out

he’s inside the drawer you’re cleaning out

he’s inside the bathroom that’s a dingy white

he’s inside the shower you slept in that one night

 

he’s inside the window you now have to close

he’s inside the stuffed animals and stoves

he’s inside the litter box that was feared to be cleaned

and inside those fire alarms, your old fiend

 

why?

because he lived there too

through good and bad

he was the memories made

 

so you wait and wait

because if you’re at a distance you know someone else has to do it for you

you know you have to move out

but if you’re not there to help then someone else has to come

and they have to clean it out instead of you

so you can avoid him a little longer and make do

 

but now –he’ll live there forever

the Monster has won

 

he’s packed up

what wasn’t dealt with was thrown in a box

“i’ll face him later”

with pitiful fists and rocks

 

and now he’ll be moved into the new house

this old abandoned one will be sold

and he’ll be a ghost to anyone new

but when you…

oh if you step through

that door he’ll remind you

that:

 

“I live in the closet”

“I live in the place your bed once stood”

“I live in the place where I ended your childhood”

NOT

I’m NOT

I’m not that one

I’m not the one.

 

The one that blows kisses

The one that dances out the night

I’m not the one smiling bright.

 

I’m not the one in pink,

I’m not the one in heels and dresses

with love finding many ways of expressions.

 

I’m not the girl you ordered,

I’m not the girlfriend of your dreams.

I’m not here to please you by all means.

 

I’m not the one that says all the right things,

I’m not the one that does all the right things.

And it’s a fear upon me that constantly springs.

 

I’m not the girlfriend you ordered.

I’m not the girlfriend you dreamt of.

 

I’m the one of real life,

The one that’ll wake you from that damned sleep

Because I’m so much fucking upkeep.

 

I’m the one from whom you’d better get the hint.

I’m the one that’ll make you work

With the texts and calls each day,

“The desire to see you isn’t too much to ask” I say.

 

When it is I’m the one that throws a cow

Because I’m the one with more than one emotion

And sometimes I’m the one that becomes a mess

When I’m the one looking over the edge.

 

I’m the one that wants space and quiet,

I’m the one that’s moody

All of the time.

I’m the one that’s high maintenance with double standards set in a line.

 

So when you get scared –

And I know you will –

You’ll back off and it won’t be a big deal.

Just like everyone else who couldn’t handle me for anything more than sex appeal.

 

Because I’m not like the girl you saw in the mall.

Shopping bags full of dresses, her never-ending smile topping painted nails and heels.

 

I’m not.

And I’m not.

I’m just not.

 

So here’s my fine print,

My warning if you will.

 

I’m not the stereotype you perceived me to be.

And I’m the one you won’t can’t foresee to keep.

The CAT

img_9309The CAT

The cat will not harm you.

She’ll eat and sleep.

Barely making more than a peep.

 

She’ll follow you around and keep you safe,

in her own little way, here for your embrace.

 

She’ll never walk out,

She’ll never curse your name.

She’ll love you forever,

and sleep beside you who’s in pain.

 

Because you’re their human, and you mean just that much,

even if he didn’t make you feel anything such.

 

She’ll be there through it all,

after he’s watched you fall.

She’ll become your shadow to make sure you’re okay,

and sleep through it with you all of the day.

 

Because you’re their human and she’s here to protect you,

now that you other two have said adieu.

 

The cat won’t force you to stay behind,

give up your weekend for what they had in mind.

They won’t tell you to stop in the midst of grief,

they’ll curl up next you and fall back asleep.

 

The cat won’t walk out,

not because the door is closed,

but because you’re their human, and you mean just that much.

And they’ll let let you know this, when he didn’t do anything such.

 

The cat will need let out,

but she’ll come back at a moments call,

because she heard your sniffling out in the hall.

 

The cat might not be there the entire time,

but she’ll be there for the biggest part of your emotional climb.

 

While instead he walked out, intent to leave you there,

there on your knees with his threat now more than a scare.

 

The cat is going to be there to tell you you do mean the most,

when he couldn’t do it, despite being so close.

 

The cat will be there with comforts to spare,

to show you how very much they really do care.

 

Because you’re their human, and you mean just that much.

Even when he didn’t make you feel anything such.

Dead Without Dying

Dead Without Dying

All the time I feel my blood racing

at a high blood-pressure boil.

My muscles contract,

and I can’t get out of bed.

 

The nail picking has started again,

a nervous harmful habit returned.

 

I close my eyes as a poem starts,

but I almost can’t get up to grab the pen to start it.

 

And with a long day ahead I was plenty prepared for,

this was how another day started.

A rueful thought framed on a phone,

that made my body feel heavy as stone.

 

With this feeling,

I’d be dead without dying.

Or so I’d rather be.

To feel nothing and none of this,

I might think could be bliss.

 

To go back to how we were,

or sleep the day away.

Submerged underwater

without these feelings to penetrate.

 

I call it dead without dying.

A feeling to heed,

and perhaps now something I need.

 

To forget everything

and run from this life,

like a scared little child turned in fright.

 

I call it dead without dying,

and wonder how it’d be,

to drop all this wretchedness onto another me.

 

To be happy again

in this lonesome catacomb,

or sleep through it all,

and in my dreams run and roam.

 

Sleeping through the grief,

writing found but at a taxing relief.

 

Here I’d rather feel dead without dying,

’till we can fix this again.

Dead without dying,

and sleeping ’till then.

Dead

Without

Dying –

A place there in the moment, numb and living,

Without the bad feelings there and unforgiving.