To some the world revolves around them,
And nothing else can matter.
They’ll do anything to reach that end,
Including endless idle chatter.

They walk around like “Hey look at me.”
And are only happy when you do.
They’re like an exhibit for all to see,
Like an animal in a zoo.

Nowadays they’re on the net, joining many a site,
And they bully everyone around.
They’ll be on the computer, day and night,
If some attention can be found.

If they start with you, pay them no mind,
It’s the best thing you can do.
I can guarantee their words won’t be kind,
When they start attacking you.

They’re attention ******, as they’re known,
Or trolls as some may say.
They’re like little kids who’ve never grown,
They always have to have their way.

So take my advice, and don’t feed the trolls,
Because they’ll just create a scene.
They are the cyber world’s lost souls,
They are evil and they’re mean.

04-14-16.

man handling your everything i guess
this is the moon song
i want you to listen to it while i
hear you breathing so loudly and frantic and breath in (only in)

listen.
my life has been way too good up until this point.
i want you to know something terrible is going to happen some time in the near future.
"may her guts rot in hell, i loved her so much"
its meaningless; its hollow.

i guess i never loved you. i just
needed you. you read my journal
it was written that i
“i hate you”. “no one cares
if you were gone”. you

broke. i broke you
down, to watch you hurting and
tears rolling down. i saw that
you cared. you loved me.
sorry, i said so many times

while you just covered your ears.
i realized, i wielded that
knife to shatter you.
maybe that was why when you
snuck the $6.90 honey-baked

chicken from Cold Storage into
your bag, you said “i’ll look
after us”. leading us illegally
into USS, you said “anything
is possible

just stay with me”. and i did.
slowly, you slipped the reigns
i mishandled from my grip.
there it was yours now to hold,
the beach, carpark, stairwells saying

“the future’s an unpredictable
nature, no matter how hard you try”,

i suppose you knew how
things would have turned out.
easy for you to say, you predicted it
for us. that was how we broke
one
another to pieces.

I hope you remember the warmth of the sun, but also the bitter cold winter.

I am
water droplets,
molecules
splitting down
the center.

Dividing and
dissolving.

Salt enhanced
rain water,
rolling down
hot skinned
cheek bones.

Flowers bloom, the Winter thaw,
Outside the songbirds sing.
With the arrival of the bluebirds,
I know that it is Spring.

But listening to the bird’s songs,
And watching the flowers bloom.
I can’t but help myself,
For feeling a certain gloom.

For I find myself a bit jealous,
As the flowers start anew,
So often I wish I could do the same,
If I just knew what to do.

02-22-16.

Sometimes the trees sing our song
Whispering through the budding branches
They mourn our loss
And then they bloom.

Alone on Sunday.
It means; "to procrastinate".
means, "time to reflect."

I  actually
expected you to do this,
and that feels ****** up.

I expected this,
and I should feel *******, but
it's just whatever.

~

Jay texted me, "hey"
and I  felt my whole body
sighing in relief

as I messaged them.
Things are to be okay.
Guess that's how it goes;

Can't predict these things,
but if you tried you'd be close.
I'm not clairvoyant,

but I know enough.
Enough to see where this ends.
Things stay as they've been.