self-love

when did the word gay
become a gasp caught in our forefathers throats
and a no a sigh of relief?

when did it become ok
for the rights of living breathing loving human beings
to become a debate?

who's idea was it to make our lives hell,
for being who we are and always will be?

it took me 15 years to realize who i am
and a minute to realize what that might mean for me

but ive always been in love
with the idea of not being
what people expect me to be

i want to grow into my skin
and i want my mind to blossom
like flowers in spring after a rainstorm

no, i am not a girl

i know what youre thinking,
shocking!
there are people out there
who question their gender identity!
how unusual!
how strange!
how much do you want to limit yourself, friend?

no, i am not a boy.

well that's just not possible!
it's all about whats between your-

dont be rude.

i am me.

i am mikey, and i like singing, and laughing, and exploring, and falling asleep to the sound of rain, and pretty girls and pretty boys and everyone in between. i love seeing my friends be happy and i love watching my little brothers and sisters grow up before my eyes and blossom into the beautiful souls they always have been.

i am not a threat.

i am nothing but a fire that refuses to stop burning
flames licking the idea that i am oh so very wrong
because i couldnt be more right.

im not going to let you hurt me anymore.

im done with being ashamed of loving bowties and beyblades.

im done with being ashamed of rather wearing shorts than a bikini

im done with being ashamed of being me.

because im finally beginning to love myself, and i really want you to, to.

an ode to the destruction of every sad poem ive ever written.

an ode to the destruction of every sad poem ive ever written.

im tired of writing sad poems.

i want to create something that makes people feel. 

i want to write about life and love and expectations and all the things i want to happen. 

i want to write about every emotion possible within the human being.

i want to take people i dont understand to places they never thought possible. 

i want to put paradise into words, i want to write about the galaxies in my veins.

to every abstract story that has ever passed my way, 

i want to destroy any possibility of impossibility. 

i want to create a new culture of thought and beauty, like the moon shining on the ocean, 

after being driven home in a pedicab 

by a man who has biked through over 34 countries. 

thirty four.

dont you believe that man might understand the impossibility of the possibility, that there are no limits to human life?

once and for all, i want to destroy my sad poems.

i want to look back on them and remember how far ive come.

i am not a sad poem anymore.

they are a representation of my will to live,

they are a manifestation of my blind heart

who has finally opened its eyes to see the kaleidoscope of the human mind.

this is an ode to the destruction of every sad poem ive ever written,

and i will write it in the stars.

i am a galaxy of bad decisions and love.

of spirited fires and art.

i am not a sad poem anymore.

my thoughts are so loud

trying to focus
give me breaths
hold back the salt
of tears behind my eyes
my brain screams in horror
my skull collapses
with the pressure of today
my eyes feel heavy
my heart begins to race
i think...
i think myself insane...
i feel my body go fuzzy
my being is a glitch
another mistake in the universal code for all that is real...
and i hear my thoughts laugh
as they choke between collapsing breaths
"it doesn't matter, kid"
it doesn't matter...

past lives

a young man walks
in the dead of night
past lives stalk him

he stands at the corner
and lights a cigarette.
watches the smoke
rise up to the stars

the lives that stalk him
collapse to the ground
knees to the floor
in worship

"please"
they beg
"free us"

the man pulls up his hood
and carries on his way.

he comes to a cliff
and watches as
the sun
its red and yellows
swallowing the sky

they are
the last things he sees

"understand me"
he whispers
"understand me..."

at last
reunited with
time, as
if all their
faith fills
a hole, what was killing their
cadaver
tells the story

please

please notice
my scruffy hair
rummaged with shaky hands
please notice
my shaky hands
struggling to hold onto
this stupid orange pencil
as i write these
words
over and over
again

please dont leave me alone
please dont leave me alone
please dont leave me alone
please dont leave me alone
please dont leave me alone

Gone are the days where i would hold my breath in waiting
Over time, all i have known has lain to waste
Overpowering the idea that hope is not gone
Devoured by those who take pride in the blade
Belittled to dust, in the barren wasteland of my mind
You are not at fault, i'm sorry
Every little sensation sends fires through my veins