A little knight he be, So in love with me

Peace falls on the Iron Lad
No more reason to be sad
For I stand before him now
With all the reason in the kingdom
To be bright and glad.

I love you my sweet little Iron Lad.


Turn Your Look to Me

I know the clock ticks
But I don’t know the time
I can’t look up
I don’t know what to do

Somewhere I hear her
A voice of one who I took for granted
But not the one I took it with
Funny how life works

You didn’t mean a lot to me
As I mean nothing to you now
But it was nice to have you around
Even if I was acting like a clown

That you didn’t mind
It was when my look didn’t turn
That you didn’t like

And now I look to someone new
Who’s as pretty as the morning dew
Who’s look won’t turn to me
And all I can think of is you.


I want to see you angry
I want to see you sad

I want to see you defeated
And ready to cry
I want to see the tears pours from your face with such sweet grace

I want to see you weak and in need of me
I want to see you strong and to take on the world in ways I could have never thought
I want you to be perfect and to see every line on your face

In motion with the life of one so filled with love, I want that in front of me for as long as I can live
I want you to hate me for the right reason

I want you to be better than I ever could
I want all these things because I want and love you
And to tell you what’s true, because it is all I can do.

Making Peace

Heart hurts but that’s okay
I don’t think I’d have it any other way

Because now I can feel it
Track what it does
Learn from it

I can feel and I can be alive
If that mean a little ache
I think it’ll be alright

I am alive and aware
With you on my mind
And her, and of course him

All those who have entered my life
For a moment and nothing but
Have taken a warm residence of where I do live

And that’s okay, it’s alright
I say until I oppose this with all my might
Right, left, doomed to drift all across the road

But it’s alright

You are too
It’s taken me years to admit that
And soon I’ll take it back

But you were apart of my life
And then you weren’t
Yet still you are

So as a walk with another
You are still close
As she will be when we drift away

I’m never alone
Even in isolation
And that’s okay.


Whenever I sit down in the quiet one thought always comes to mind, “I really smell, I should probably work on my hygiene.” Then if I manage to wait one more second another thought comes to mind, “I really hope I’m okay.” I hope that I will do well in life, that I am okay emotionally, and that somehow that I am truly special. The special part comes largely from being raised on TV and believing that we are all Harry Potter. That we are all the chosen one and that we will rise up to be the “Special”, thank you Lego movie.

Though that given notion might not be as strong if I related normally with people, if I had a normal group of friends and could relate with the frequency that everybody else seems to be functioning on. But this is not the case, I feel and have always felt like someone on the outside looking in. Which is a common enough feeling, I mean how does one ever truly relate with another person? It is we are all galaxies and we are then supposed to hold conversation with another galaxy. It’s absurd. And yet it seems to be a fairly simple enough task for most folk. Which means despite whatever “quirks” and difference may occur, those people who relate with other people can then be considered as “Normal”.

Which is good, hell it’s a little more than good it’s great!  One of the main things we strive for is a pack in which we feel comfortable in, in which we find home. Home is a magical word, and it is because of that and the reasons I gave that are a partial reason for the success and enjoy ability of shows like “How I Met Your Mother” and “Friends” among others. Because whatever hijinks the characters get into they always have a core group of people who are unflinchingly there for them. And to me, that sounds like Heaven. It’s also something I personally have never really enjoyed, which perhaps one of the reason I find this particular set up so heavenly.

All this to say, that if one or in this case me, does not have this core group or a general feeling of relating, a widespread form of friendship, then it must mean I am special. It must then indicate that I am gifted in some particular area, that I’m good at something. I am an artist with a voice that must be heard is something in that dispirit part of my brain, which I fear may be far larger than I am willing to admit, screams to me. It says confidently in the confides of my tiny little head that I am the next Thompson, Hitchens, Orwell, or something of the like. This is an absolutely absurd and vain thing to say and think. It is born from my own insecurities, my need to matter, and I fear may be the most relatable thing about me.

For you see, in the darkest part of night when all else is asleep, and in absolute solitude, I admit to myself that yes in fact, I am normal. A horrifying revelation you see for I have never been able enjoy the perks of mediocrity or create the masterpieces that come with being cursed with true creativeness. There is no art at my disposal that makes the suggestion that I am an artist, and there are no friends around to say that I am likable. An outlier on both fronts forced to like through either window to see the things that I cannot or will not have. Because at the end of the day, and this brings me pain to say, I am a socially awkward kid with nothing of true interest to say.

We Should Be Okay

Things are hard and I wish they weren’t. Life is hell but it doesn’t have to be. There’s no sense to what’s happening, and I don’t know if it would help if there was. It wouldn’t make things right if we knew, or maybe it would. Maybe if we as a species were to recognize our selfishness then perhaps we could prevent some of these tragedies. If we, if I, just took one step back and could just see things as a whole, maybe we would be a little kinder.

But we can’t, we can only look back at the things we’ve done in the moment and hope we can take away something from it. I wish I could make it better, though that thought doesn’t really help my self-centeredness. Because at the end of the day I can only see and feel the world through my eyes, even when I’m trying to look through someone else’s. Which means I’m going to say the wrong things, and I’m going to have the wrong thing said to me, and then will take it in the worse possible way. Though I might try to act rational, though I might try to act fair, it’s the emotions that control us, especially in times of despair.

I love you sweet girl, and I don’t know what else to say. I just want you and everyone else to be okay.

A Play for You, A Play with Two

Ren: Listen I don’t think is going to work anymore.
Tin-Tin: the fuck are you talking about
Ren: This thing that we’re doing, I don’t know I just don’t really feel the same way about you that I once did. And that maybe this part of our relationship, the romantic part, needs to end.
Tin-Tin: The fuck are you talking about??
Ren: you um, you already said that, um uh…you said that already.
Tin-Tin: Yeah and you never answered what I was saying. What is wrong with you, am I not hot enough for you, because I’m hot, I’m fucking hot.
Ren: Yeah your attractive, shit you uh, beautiful! But that doesn’t mean-
Tin-Tin: Are we not fucking enough? Sorry I’ve been busy but we can totally get it on more.
Ren: Well that’s nice but that’s not necessarily..
Tin-Tin: Like seriously you can even get up in that ass you’re always clawing at. I’ll never get why guys are so obsessed with that hole, I mean all the feelers are in the front one not to mention shit is ALWAYS coming out of there but hey, it’s yours.
Ren: Wow, again that’s crazy generous of you, but..
Tin-Tin: Butt yeah, that’s what I’m saying it’s yours, please go for it. Though we are going to need to pick up some lube in the way home, because you are NOT going in dry and spit is so fucking gross, ugh not in my ass. Oh and tits, feel free to cum on them, you’re going to have to clean up after words, but yeah no one’s going to say I can’t keep my man happy!
Ren: Tin, its not about the sex, its goes deeper than that. I don’t FEEL the same way about you as I use to. That’s not a bad thing per say, and its doesn’t mean I don’t love you, its just that I don’t love you that way anymore.
Tin-Tin: Oh my god..
Ren: I know, I’m sorry..
Tin-Tin: I’m so old!! God I’m losing you and I’m never going to find anyone ever again, cause I’m an old, ugly, fuuuuuck!!!!
Ren: Shit, okay it’s not your looks, it’s not a matter of me “cumming on your tits” and it sure as hell isn’t your age! It goes deeper than that okay?! But you don’t did you ever think that the problem isn’t some shallow bullshit, but that you’ve never brought me anything but that shallow bullshit? That maybe I want something deeper, something that I connect with more on an intimate and intellectual level. And that maybe you and I are just too different? Look we had a thing and it was great and I really felt something for you. But time passed and the more it did the ‘more I realize just how different we really are. And my feelings just…changed. And there’s nothing you can do, and there’s nothing either of us can really say, because it’s no one’s fault. Were just two different birds flying in the wrong direction.
(They both sit for a moment in silence until Ren’s phone buzzes and Tin-Tin quickly grabs for it before Ren can reach it.)
Ren: Hey come on, that’s not cool.
Tin-Tin: If you don’t want someone to read your texts then lock your fucking phone.
Ren: (in frustration and more under his breath) Yeah but that’s such a pain in the ass..
Tin-Tin: “Heyy bby, ready to pick me up, winky face?” from Chaska?? Like my twelve year old sister Chaska?!?
Ren: Hey listen…there’s a lot of people uh, with that name..
Tin-Tin: Are you leaving me to fuck my twelve year old sister?!?!?
Ren: (Looks awkward, scared, and confused)
Tin-Tin: I knew it….I AM too old!!!!!
Ren: I, uh…I…
Tin-Tin: Sniff, have fun cumming on someone who’s not an OLD HAG!!!!! (She slams the phone down and storms off, Ren does not pursue her, the play ends, the end.)