More than a brother, less than a Lover

He’s always there for me, both figuratively and literally.

We spend days together doing nonsense and driving into new adventures.

Those ridiculous drives are like aspirin to a hard on headache.

Being with him relieves stress.

We have a routine every Sunday.

I pick him up early in the morning,

We drive to Newton, radio blasting,

Listening to his favorite song “I’m Sexy and I know it”,

We pull into Wal-Mart and shop for cheap useless objects,

Not to mention playing with the toys,

We end that stop with a trip to the interior dunkin donuts.

We both get a koolata, his large, mine small.

After exiting Newton we head to the park for some daily exercise.

Usually playing tennis or running.

If the day is stuck in a down pour of a little H2O, then we go back to his place for a movie or video games.

This is only on normal occasions.

In between it all we talk about our relationships, whether we are talking about family or the opposite sex.

 We’ve never kissed or have done anything like that.

This is the good, because that is not how our relationship works.

We’ve hugged and cuddled and have even fallen asleep in each other’s harms.

But that’s where it ends because I love him.

More than a brother and less than a lover.

Tattoos, Chains, and Skater Hat

             He walks to Starbucks for the third time today for a single chocolate donut and a large cup of coffee. Why? Because he can. He can do whatever he wants. Skip school, get an awesome tattoo, steal, cheat, and just about anything else. He’s 18 and can now legally be an adult. So what he’s senior in school. Doesn’t mean he has to actually go to school.

            Who is this guy? Obviously it is Seth Diez. He walks with his pants way past his bottom, the cuffs drag on the street. These worn-out cuffs lay on the bright neon sneakers that cost him only a run in the mall. The dark jeans are weighed down by the long silver chains hooked through his pants. The pants have about forty bucks in the pockets, along with a cigarette pack which he got with the 5 finger discount. No phone, who needs people to call him and tell him to do things? If they really needed to talk to him they could just come and see him. Next is the extra large T-shirt that is the naturally black and blue, some rips, and makes his lean body look twice as big. Nothing on his wrists, who needs a watch? He doesn’t need to be somewhere at a specific time. His long dark hair is matted down by his dark blue skater hat. His one and only charming feature is his emerald green eyes, they draw in girls who think that there is good in him. That is until they spend time with him.

            He’s that guy on the street that everyone ignores because he ignores them. They all know he is as low as the dirt beneath their feet. Even as a toddler he made problems that were unwanted. He drew on the walls, screamed in public, and occasionally ran away. Maybe some one should have taught him to behave. Or look for him when he left without a trace. Or maybe he wasn’t supposed to be born. But he’s another addition to the population unfortunately. That mosquito in your ear

An Ode to the Quiets

Welcome,
Who am I you ask?
I'm that girl who looks fine and lives in a nice house with a dog, or a cat. Whatever you think sounds perfect.
I dress like the average middle class teenage girl, but nothing to fancy.
I laugh and smile and get decent grades in decent classes.
But what if you were to come over my house? Or spend a day with the real me?
I'm nothing like who I pretend to be.
My life at school is a show, and I'm the best actress so far.
If you asked me if you could come over my house I would say I'm too busy.
If you wanted to have lunch in the cafeteria with me you would see that I eat little to nothing, But slowly.
You would never she me at the prom or the mall.
Why?
I have a house that looks as though it was abandoned for years.
I sometimes don't eat for days.And if I do I treasure it.
I can't afford to get a dress or anything at the mall, let alone go to the expensive prom.
Only several teachers know and try to help.
I work two part time jobs, flip flopping everyday and sometimes on the same day. Maybe even at night.
You can't see the circles under my eyes because of the make up others give me.
The clothes on my back may look like something you use to own, but gave it to the less fortunate.
That's me, with your shirt.
That's me.
A quiet.

Mom's Words (Rated wow)

Hey bimbo,
We have to let meg talk because she's swaying,
Not finished...doofus,
You start making sh!#t up,
I knew he was going to lay an egg,
I was watching the pigman last night, it's a funny little mental patient.
I wonder if we let him out if he would tear you up...let's try.
Kathy's always confused.
Because kindness is no fun.
My candels are crooked.
Dead puppy, how disturbing.
It's warm because I love you.
Just do it or I'll hit you hard.
You sick person.
I trapped your father in there today (she means the attic).
No, go away.
If I went to jail? I would be so bored.
I sound like a nut.

Dream Giver

There's this dream i have every night after a school day.
It's a warm summer day, with a soft cool breeze. The grass is long but not high.
There are birds flying above me heading...south? north?
I do not know.
The meadow is covered in blue flowers and butterflies with wings of the rainbow.
I feel warm and wholesome. Like I need to be there. I want to be there.
There are no electronics or structures to cover me. There is no need.
Why am i dreaming this? Someone must me giving me this dream.
But who? Was it the guy with the black shirt helping me with my fallen books?
Was it that teacher that said a have improved from a C to an A?
Or was it my mom who said she was proud of me?
Who are you dream giver? Do you know what you're doing?
Do you wait for me tomorrow?
Because when I find out who you are I will give you a dream. One that makes you smile in your lonely sleep. One that makes you happy and feel as if everything will be alright.
Thank you for the comfort.

A Killer's Toy

A kind young boy walks to his car.
The night air is cool and is not what makes his hair stand up, but it is the two dark figures leaning on his car.
He doesn't know who they are or what they want, but he is to close to walk away.
He swallows and start toward the figures. He goes to speak but there is a a banging in his head.
No, it's not in his head, it's on his head.
A toy is crushing his skull. He can't breathe on the hard concrete and feels every muscle in his body tense  whenever the blow occurs yet again. The other figure is destroying his ribs. He is in to much burning pain to let out a scream for help, for mercy.
The two demons are finished and scurry away.
The boy is left on the ground, slipping away. And wonder who they were and why? Why?
That's all he can think since the rest of his thoughts have been crushed to dust.
The weapon is left next to him. It's wooden and long.
What was once a child's toy is now the killers.

The Tango of Love

Love is like the tango.
You love someone and truly care for somone,
but they end up making you angry at times.
That only happens because you know them so well that your are comfortable enough to say what you
think and feel.
You love them, then hate them, then love them again.
In the end you love them more then you hate them.
This love is for friends, family, and soul mates.
It also happens to all ages.
Anyone can dance the tango, or learn to.
The point is that everyone feels love that dances back and forth for someone.