Listen to me, very carefully. We only have 2,555 days to be a teenager. Sure, it seems like a lot, but it will pass quickly. Time never stops for anyone, it is going to keep going, and going and going. People die, we grow older. Don't waste your teenage years regretting the past, everyone makes mistakes so don't regret things too much.
You aren't going to be able to run around till dawn with friends when your older, you'll be...

If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.            -C.S. Lewis


Where do I belong?

In a fantasy world
Created of dreams?

In a different place
Far from here?

Or in a fairy tale
Where princesses fight for their princes?

Perhaps in an imaginary land
Of pixies and dragons?

In a paradise
Of a different realm?

How do I...

I want to get out of here!
I hate sitting In this house all day, these walls devouring my soul.
Taking me as a whole, 
I try and leave this small, small house
But you pull me back into the door
and ask me to fold a basket of laundry.
late night phone calls because I had to cancel my plans
You wonder why I am not well.
I think of this house as a hell.
I'm not allowed to...

o! strike the gong, hear its sonorous toll/
for today an artist has fallen from their post./
(can't you see it now, icarus?)
(wings lost in descent)
body splayed 'neath the wooden staircase/
(towards heaven, painting heaven on brick walls')
face tilted towards the prize and the brush/
and sheer bliss drips from their dull lips and curls from oblivious eyes/
twirling and flirting against shattered spine and outstretched limbs reaching/
towards sanguine paints and stolen ambition/
taste the sorrow...

She looked at the pink house one last time. She saw both her white dogs running in the garage. She saw a happier version of herself, sitting at the porch, waiting to catch a winking star, for then she could point out proof to her sister, that peter pan did watch over her. She saw herself on the terrace through bright and dark moods. Swooning over how beautiful this little world of her own was. She looked at the fields...

as i meet new people new friends start to blossom

though i only seek the person who can keep my secrets within

therefore i grasp those moonlit strands of friendship oh so gently

so that when they are yanked away from my outstretched hand 

they don’t burn these calloused fingers

i can watch another person exit

and it won’t happen so painfully
 

In America every four years,
we got to vote against our fears.
We take a look around at our peers
and if the side we love wins, three cheers!

Three cheers to the winners.
That sucker is going to have great dinners.
Although if we assume that they are beginners,
than we get screwed like sinners.

In 2016, the year that changed everything,
an email scandal that people thought as a fling,
turned out to be a big thing.
Four...

our lips press together
awkwardly
but it feels 
so right
we lay beside each other in the grass
her sweetgrass eyes are bright
her honeydew lips
part
and fragile magic 
flows through them
'i love you, lu.'
she loves me
an awkward weeby
no one
how can this be?

 

If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.            -C.S. Lewis


Where do I belong?

In a fantasy world
Created of dreams?

In a different place
Far from here?

Or in a fairy tale
Where princesses fight for their princes?

Perhaps in an imaginary land
Of pixies and dragons?

In a paradise
Of a different realm?

How do I...

o! strike the gong, hear its sonorous toll/
for today an artist has fallen from their post./
(can't you see it now, icarus?)
(wings lost in descent)
body splayed 'neath the wooden staircase/
(towards heaven, painting heaven on brick walls')
face tilted towards the prize and the brush/
and sheer bliss drips from their dull lips and curls from oblivious eyes/
twirling and flirting against shattered spine and outstretched limbs reaching/
towards sanguine paints and stolen ambition/
taste the sorrow...

She looked at the pink house one last time. She saw both her white dogs running in the garage. She saw a happier version of herself, sitting at the porch, waiting to catch a winking star, for then she could point out proof to her sister, that peter pan did watch over her. She saw herself on the terrace through bright and dark moods. Swooning over how beautiful this little world of her own was. She looked at the fields...

as i meet new people new friends start to blossom

though i only seek the person who can keep my secrets within

therefore i grasp those moonlit strands of friendship oh so gently

so that when they are yanked away from my outstretched hand 

they don’t burn these calloused fingers

i can watch another person exit

and it won’t happen so painfully
 

our lips press together
awkwardly
but it feels 
so right
we lay beside each other in the grass
her sweetgrass eyes are bright
her honeydew lips
part
and fragile magic 
flows through them
'i love you, lu.'
she loves me
an awkward weeby
no one
how can this be?

 

Even in the tremor I looked through its eyes and saw death
Wading in waist high water, there stood grim
And gory slaughter

Arranging rodent carcasses. It did it just for me
A cracked polystyrene man, who crumbles and burns
To the last syllable of recorded time

I’ve heard it in the chillest land
The anguish of the Earth absolves our eyes
Moloch, Moloch, Moloch

—Suppose you find this land: who will give it over to you that you might...

The lights were all off,
aside from the tiny light
that was in the cellar.

A horror, hiding, 
that lived only in nightmares,
had somehow escaped.

It had the power 
of pure imagination,
but scared of the dark.

The light exploded;
the horrid screeching began
and woke all the house.

The people began
to search the entire house
but nothing they found.

The youngest child went
down to the cellar and found
the demon creature.

She saw kindness in
the...