and

Sometimes you just want to go crazy and pull all your little short hairs out and never think about the cold wind on your naked skin as you dance and cry and laugh and sing about death and life and the absence of both and being without a girl who makes you smile, to make you smile, to see you smile, to hold and to have, through sickness and through health and pain and happiness and to fight over and to reject and to scoff and to stare at and to write poetry about and for and to and from and so no one but she and he and both and everyone and sometimes no one but you and her and them and those ones and everyone else can see what you don't want to know about and you can't seem to hold your head up and smile at everyone who doesn't matter and simply say hello and wave and watch as my own standards seep all over my seething and sickening skin and i scream with the pain of pressure and crack from the strain of being me.