1. I try to write poems
In a list sort of order
But the only one that’s ever turned out okay
Is the one about my ex-boyfriend
And that kind of sucks
So let’s try this again.

2. I still won’t know what this poem
is about even after I finish it
because my feelings are hidden behind metaphors
and finding treasure has never been one of my talents

3. I turned the girl I love into a metaphor.
Her smile is brighter than the sun
And her voice is so wonderful
That I can’t find a good metaphor to describe it.
And that sounds really cheesy
But so is this;
She is the song stuck repeating in my head
She, is someone I could find solace in
But I do not have the heart to tell her
Because I am too afraid
Of being rejected.

4. No one told me…
No one told me
That being young and naïve
Could get you so lost
Lost in another world
One where the underground rises
Where sewer rats of people
Run the businesses on the streets
Another world where darkness is obligatory
Where I will shoot the life into this hollow body of mine
Wrapping my problems in paper
And setting them alight
Pouring liquid courage down my throat
So hopefully I can tell this damn girl
That I love her as much as the bees
Because her smile is as sweet as honey
And maybe all the vices
Of this pit I call a body
Are helping me find my metaphors

5. My best friend was destroyed by her vices.
I watched her drink her body numb
Until the darkness she pushed away for so long
Finally caught up with her fragile bones.
I am afraid that I, too,
Will be caught up with someday.

6. I thought I had found my metaphors.
Thought that the only way to take apart
The puzzles I call poems
Was to destroy myself piece by piece
But doing so only made the picture
A little more muddy
A little more black
A little more…dark.

7. My vices have yet to catch up with me.
The anxiety has taken over
I no longer own my body
I traded it for a temporary solution
And it is coming back to haunt me.
My mother always told me I was naïve.
I guess that she was right.

8. The blank faces among the masses
Stare longingly at a casket
Standing underneath, a brother, a father, an uncle, a cousin.
My brother. My father. My uncle. My cousin.
I made too many left turns.
Burned too many problems
And blew away the ashes.
Drank too much liquid courage
And convinced myself that I could fly.
My vices were the end of me.
I never told the girl
With the smile as sweet as honey
That I loved her.
I just whispered it into the vast void we call space
While sipping on my lifeline.
I felt myself shatter into pieces.
The wind, blowing away my ashes.

I am 9

10. pro tip: tell that girl you love her
listen to your mother.
kiss the boy you’ve been thinking about for weeks.
shave your head.
sell your home.
buy a cat.
or a dog.
or a few.
become a vegan.
get a tattoo.
get in a fight club just because you want to know what getting your teeth kicked in feels like.
pro tip: it’s not fun.
buy a car.
become Buddhist.
come out.
the point is
life is the shortest and the longest thing we will ever experienceT
and do not waste it by caving into your vices
take risks
and be daring
or don’t
but be you and don’t let yourself hold you back
from doing so just because it’s not
“cool” or “in”
“lady like” or “manly”
fuck society, be yourself.

—  the angry list /// ryder irwin

I thought knowing both songs would make it easier to learn on guitar. It doesn’t.