Lawliet-Love-Girl

Dear student who wrote anti-gay slurs in my locker at school,   To begin with, among your many errors in judgment and ignorance,  you did not spell "you are" right. You have the literary graces of a five year old and I hope that you pride yourself in this, because you haven't got much going for you, have you? I could rant and rant about how much I hate you and what an awful waste of carbon you are to this world, but that wouldn't do me any good. I am stronger than your words, I am stronger than your homophobia, and I am  flat out stronger than you. You clearly don't even have a scrap of self worth because you couldn't even tell me to my fac

is that no matter how much you post and blog and write and comment and no matter how hard you hope for someone to respond, you are just sitting at a desk. and you are wishing for her to write you back or even write you at all. waiting. hunched over the keyboard the clack of plastic keys punctuating your thoughts onto a digital slate. refreshing your inbox. refreshing again. and again. and again. and looking at your monitor with the buzz of the television in the background. humming and rising with white noise if only to fill the room with some sound. any sound. anything to keep the illusion that you aren't just writi

you play my heartstrings like a harp. you make the most sad, sweet melody of words unsaid and voices unheard. like a muse, a daughter of the earth, your song leaves reality to bend and blur around you. sit down next to me. i'll whisper poems in your ear i'll never make you cry like he did. so kiss me in the turquoise rain until i run out of things to say. and just let me steal a moment reflected in your eyes.

i hate everything about you. the bilge of the world reflects in your greased auburn hair blinding the most wicked of eyes. i hate everything you were. demeur and self pitying, groveling in your own lonliness because you were too scared. i hate everything you say. laced with lies and sweet nothings you tell yourself late at night so that your guilt stalks away for the moment. i hate everything you do. pompous and righteous for your own twisted morals soaked in a side of religious fanaticism. i hate everything you've become washed up and wrung out begging for a pathetic sting of pain to shock your brain into existance. but m

42. Standing Still From the 100 Themes Challenge on DeviantART stagnancy promotes a dulling of the mind, a psychosis of dormant slumber. under the muck and disheveled strands are a new breed of chaos that can't be named. it's madness! an epidemic! a PANDEMIC. widespread and incurable is the trend of apathy. the desire of nothing. lax motives and sloth abound. the forest rotting in the writhing flesh of pure ignorance by the masses. once hallowed halls crumble at the lack of upkeep and tender care. my heart aches like these walls. but bitter loneliness is only sorrowful if you were a social person to begin with.

41. Teamwork From the 100 Themes Challenge on DeviantART trust exercises just won't let me crash, with handfuls of doubt locked in my fingers. pine needles crushing under weighted down feet, forcing earth and soil to sink. everyone's there, still standing tall and mighty. they all catch me when i fall. yet, i can't help but wonder what it's like to hit rock bottom.

dear miss gag-me-with-a-spoon,   all the green and gold in the world couldn't cover you up. saucer eyes so haunting they suck out the life and rip roar yourself a brand new face.   the unbeautiful cameleon, blending with whoever your bruises push against. it's a sickening kind of funny the way i snicker deep down when your vocal cords start forming words. you start running just to know you can still move, and i squirm and choke back a hiccup of laughter.   but it's not really your fault, though i'd lovelovelove to blame you. oh to strap down your crawling words and BLAME YOU.   yet foolish girl, you are but a product of the latenight

hot tin rooves, all day they beat down on my shoulders. bemused by the lull of of drones to their nests, my jaw falls slack and useless. marrow unable to bear the tension, i scrape together what dignity i have left to worm beneath my covers. i lapse into the arms of REM desires as they coddle my restless spine. allofasudden winding whirling ribbons of fuschia jam me into a deeper sleep. oceans of red-violet fire grab hold and spin spin spin, i come to a final thud on marble. sudden silence. ice rushes up and down my ribcage, pushing sail-wide lungs to port. to home. and there it is, with you seated on your grecian

shaking, i'm actually shaking. shrieking voices and spewing anger like lava. i shouldn't care what they think. for i am the unbreakable wall, right? i didn't choose to be this way                             an outcast                             a freak                   

38. Abandoned From the 100 Themes Challenge on DeviantART sun soaked dress retaining violet moonlight can't help but draw lines and blur them out like a wine filled noon. hot flash of cameras, whirr and crack like popping corn. fast not slow, metal bars rush on french vanilla clay statues. then   everything   stops.     where                 is   the order,       the salvation?        why     is      the  key card scraping       my    tongue?     howls and     baying    of wild wolves        to slaughter.   crash   of metal       catches   my     attention and     the    crowd blends into    ant ROYGBIV   patterns.