My death wasn't supposed to happen the way it did. I had it all planned out, the where and the why's set on a map so carefully placed. No one would know, until it was far to late. 

I was to die on March 20th, 2017. In a forest just outside of town, alone like I wanted. 

My plan ended when my life did too. Abruptly and came as quite a surprise to us all if I do say. 

It was late March 19th that my life was taken from me. The bastard didn't let me do it myself and now in here to haunt him forever. 

His words to me before he shot me in the head were, "This is where we met, where we had our first kiss, where you broke my heart, and ruined my life. This is where it began and it shall end." 

I understood what was to come, so I looked him dead in the eye (no pun intended) and he shot me. 

This all happened in a local library.

Bologna - Bolony

Pony - Pongna

Phony - Fongna

Horse - Hourse

Fate - Feat

Feat - Feet

Feet - Feat

Meat - Meet

Meet - Meat

Seat - Seet

My Dad and I 

we don't really get along much

and sometimes, its hard

trying to talk to him

when he's mad at me

and I'm mad at him.

We can get angry together--

at Trump,

at the Black Community,

at the wickedness of the world,

but nothing is resolved

when we're mad at each other

hand-in-hand.

Mom told me

that I should be honest,

respectful,

and kind,

and maybe that hate that

dug itself deep inside of my heart

will fade away with

a few simple words.

"Dad, I love you."

"I'm sorry."

"But sometimes you can be too honest."

"Sometimes you can be too condescending."

"And you won't care."

"And I'll just continue to hate myself."

"In silence."

"Then you get mad when I don't speak up."

Dad, I love you.

I'm sorry.

But the things you say at times;

they make me want to--

("Drink bleach. Hurt myself.")

Cry a lot.

Because your words are gospel to me.

Your guidance is driving me insane.

I think that

possibly

we could fix each other

if we talked more

if we opened up

fought less

smiled brighter.

Maybe you'd be more pleased

not to see

the relaxed look 

on my face.

Maybe I'll be happier

knowing that my relaxed face

is a smile

at you.

©SelfTitled, 2017

We drank a bottle

of red wine on our first date.

We laughed, kissed deeply.

He held my hand and

whistled Frank Sinatra; there's

something about him...

As time has gone by,

the silence is deafening,

the wine has run dry.

@zoe_aline

Rule 1. No girls.

Rule 2. No baths. 

Rule 3. No parents. 

Rule 4. The clubhouse location is top secret. Guard it with your life. 

Rule 5. President has the power to decide who's in or out. 

Amendment #1

Rule 1. Seriously no girls. I don't care if she "has nice hair," Jonathan. 

Amendment #2

Rule 4. What don't you get about SECRET, Elliot? I appreciate the enthusiasm in the efforts to take down the girls, but when you decide to eat their faces, don't do it in the clubhouse. 

Amendment #3 

Rule 6. Absolutely no kissing. (Credit: Thank you Marcus for the correction)

Amendment #4

Rule 2. A bath and a date? That's the last straw, Jay, you're out. 

Amendment #5

Rule 5. But order of popular uprising, the President has been replaced with democratic rule. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, Michael. And take a bath, jeez. 

Amendment #6

Omit "No Girls" and permit the girls. 

Public Notice:

Cootie shots will be administered on Tuesday.

(Just in case)