...oooh how i dearly love screwing with people...

i hated poetry week in class. but boy do i love getting people worried/upset. i also wanted to see if i could get the councelor called on me. unfortunately, i didn't. shucks. but here's a pretty neat poem i wrote:

I want to feel the cold hilt resting in my palm
the steel blade shining blue and cold in the dark.
I swing up to meet you
A flash as steel meets flesh
and your warm blood
your life force
Is a running river
pouring over my hands
my arms
my body
You look at me
in your eyes is
a plea for mercy
for forgiveness
but you are too late
My eyes glare back
smouldering with hate
A final shaky breath finds its way
through your broken windpipe
I smile at you.
A smile of pure malice.
I have hurt you as you hurt me.
I stand up, and walk away
My work done.

I want to feel the weight of the gun
as it rests on my shoulder.
I open fire.
A rapid rat-tat-tat
fills the air
You all look to see
and your blood spatters on
the pavement
your faces still showing
suprise
I can barely hear the sound
of my weapon
Your screams are too loud
I would be sorry that it had
to end this way
but I'm not.
You hurt me
It's my turn now.
"Paybacks's a bitch, isn't it?"
I hiss as I catch the last of you
in the back
and watch you fall.

I want to yell and scream
as they take me away
But my voice
is frozen
So I walk in silence.
The handcuffs burn my wrists.
Tears gather, but do not fall.
When they close the door,
I smile
I pull a razor blade from my dress.
Blood drips to the floor.
I take my own life
and win.

*

wasn't that charming? now you can read my dear teacher (who was visiting, just for poetry)'s response:

Woah, Telemachus. The pain and intensity in this is quite blatant and scary. I'm sorry that you feel this pain, and I want to help you find a way to release it without making this fantasy come true. Did writing this help? Full of passion. But please don't let this pain eat away at you...is there someone who can help you release it?

bwhahahahahahahahaha. i heart myself. my friend got us roped into going to poetry club, and when he learned my name, i had to explain about the poem, but it was hard because i was laughing too hard. i think he was still kind of worried about me, though, especially because i was able to explain to my friend what razor blades are and the proper technique for slitting one's wrist. haha.

but then he made me write another poem. this one sucks major face but whatever. i didn't particularly want to write it. but here it is nonetheless:

i wrote a poem
in english class
the subject
was passion
looking at the board
there were so many
choices
i had Halo on the mind
so i chose
violence
then i thought
how a poem
that was so violent
could get me arrested
if i lived in the city
i smiled to myself
and the words began
to flow
i turned it in
and forgot
but i didn't think
as i sat in class
how others would see
my work
the teacher
read it
and thought
i've got a
homicidal
suicidal
student
reading meaning
into every line
he wrote a
comforting note
telling me of
his worry
when i found out
i had to laugh
i saw his point
but that's not me
that other girl
that i can be
now it's done
i feel the same
and wrote this poem
ain't it lame?


ooh wee boogers. that's the end of that story. i kind of wish that i could have kept up the facade of a deeply fucked up childe, but it was just too funny.