The fruit cake child molester
gets acclaim and promotion,
put on a pedestal, while the
righteous underdog gets
exiled or killed,
kicked out and abandoned
like a stray cat.

I got high in poetry class today.

When we sleep
I imagine that we go to the same place
I picture you
Your tattoos and red wine stained cheeks
You smell like ice cream and you taste like it too
Everything that you love
Looks like me
It’s so real sometimes that when I reach out for you
I can feel you reaching back
In my dreams you say everything that I want to hear
And you mean it

our lips will never meet
nor our fingers intertwine
and so bless my dreams
for indulging what's not mine

im twenty one and the world won't wait for me anymore,
stuck between living and remembering i lived
every moment has to count,
every second a memory,
can't look at pictures
without  wanting to print them in time, again and again
what if i forget the small pieces i've lived
with you,
when i'll be alone, when the sky will have turned
grey and full of sorrow,
will my old bones remember you

time has passed me by,
and i'm so young i know but
time has passed me by,
and we should savour it, we know but
time keeps passing by,
i'd rather die happy than
bored by destiny,
just passing by

i'll soon be twenty two and that's when
talented gems start to shine,
all the words i wrote,
will they matter to anyone else but me,
will they be sang or heard,
and all i wanted to create,
can't look at my hands
without thinking of wasted potential, again and again,
what if i didn't matter at all,
what if i was the one wasting time,
and when the sky turns its back on me,
will my old bones have lived happy.