I am the Masochist kid!

My tongue swells,
My brain rolls,
My lips change from colors of red, pink, and blue.
My fealings build too strong to hold,
It's time to let everyone know my fealings.
The world will hear my words,
The world will feal my pain,
The world will taste my bitterness,
The world will see my anger,
The world will smell my spilt blood.
With this pencil and paper,
With this pen and stationery,
With this ink and wood,
I vow to let the world...
Hear..
Feal..
Taste..
See..
Smell..
Who I am
I am a poet




Im gonna be off of here for a while again... respond if you like but this is my last subscribtion for a while...

“Four years, four whole years since the day I finally left this place.” Mrijev walked through the double doors that he had once looked at in disgust, but now he looked upon those doors with a view of hope.
Mrijev had barely slipped through his days at the school and moved onto college, he graduated easily from there and took out a few more years to be eligible to teach. Never in his life did he think to himself that he would one day be the same thing he had hated to see every week day. He was now here to take place in teaching in Chemistry. He always found it interesting; he always liked to know how things worked and what was more elaborate than life and the world around him.
He stepped into the office and spoke to the lady behind the desk. He spotted in his peripheral three other people filling out paperwork in the chairs on the side of the office.
“Hello Mr. Mrijev, we are glad you came. Now please complete these forms in full and we will get you your room number.” The lady handed him a large stack of paperwork and went back to what she was doing. Mrijev found a comfortable chair in between the other three adults and began to fill out the first form. All of those years of teaching never helped him get out of the habit to write how he did: he held his pen to the paper with his pinky, ring, and middle figure going up the side of the pen, interrupted by the thumb which supplied the force into the pen, and the index finger followed that in order to navigate the pen. His writing was also still sloppy due to the strange way he held his pen.
After he got half the way done with the second form he began to hear snickering from his left, Mrijev still wasn’t very comfortable with people laughing when he didn’t want them to, he glanced to the man on his left, “What’s so funny?”
The man didn’t look Mrijev in the eyes but answered, “I used to know a guy that wrote that way, who knew that there would be more people who wrote that way.” The man snickered a little more and continued writing.
Mrijev was off-set by this, who else wrote like him? He continued to write until he finished all the paperwork and returned it to the woman behind the desk.
Thank you Mr. Mrijev, now could you please go wait with the others until we file your paperwork.” She smiled sarcastically at him and she returned to filing paperwork. Just before Mrijev turned around he spotted a signature that he had seen before, he couldn’t read it because he could read very little cursive, thus is why he didn’t teach English.
He walked out of the office and found himself in the midst of maybe a dozen people. “Hey Weird Hand, come over here!” The same man that Mrijev sat by in the office was motioning for him to stand by him; he still didn’t look Mrijev in the eyes.
Mrijev walked up to the man ignoring his mocking tone, “So what are you teaching.” Mrijev really didn’t care but he was just trying to be nice and make conversation with his fellow teacher.
“I will be teaching East Lab.” the man said proudly. He made an attempt for a smile but then went straight back to a neutral frown. “Apparently most of the teachers last year quit or retired so now this school needs a whole new batch of teachers.” Mrijev still didn’t care what the man had to say but he tried to act like he was listening to him.
“We are about to call out names, if you hear your name called then come get your name tag and your room number, Mister Bridges!” A man stepped from the group stepped up to the table and picked up a name tag and a little card that had a number on it; he put on his nametag and stepped aside. “Missus Lloyd,” A woman stepped from the crowd and followed the exact steps. Mrijev was anxious to hear his name; the amount of teachers also began to lessen though he never heard his name. “Mister Boyle,” yet another person was eliminated. Among the commotion made by the teachers Mrijev heard a floor buffer, he followed the sound to the source and found a short janitor polishing the floor, though Mrijev laughed at the task he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the motion of the floor buffer. Minutes passed, trickling away like wind. “Mister Mrijev, Mister Mrijev? Mister Mrijev!” Mrijev snapped out of his trance, he was the only person left on that side of the room and everyone’s eyes were on him, he wiped the drool from his lip and followed the steps of all the other people, he began to walk towards the man he had befriended, but he noticed the expression on his face, it was one of surprise and disbelief.
Mrijev stopped in front of the man, “What’s wrong?”
The other man looked him straight in the eye with a glazed over look, he grabbed his own shirt where his nametag was clipped to and lifted it up slightly so Mrijev could see.
Mrijev read the nametag and seemed to mimic the expression on the man’s face, “Four years, four whole years since I last saw you, Jag.”

The two brightest little dots,
Both enveloped in the deep black.
Shine brighter than all the other spots,
That all seemed to have turnede their back.

These tiny sources of light,
That shine through the thick haze.
To show themselves only at night,
Ignored by all through the days.

The torment these two must feel,
Always so far but seeming so neer.
They helped with the ignorance they would heal.
But only so close as to peer

They were in love with each other,
Their fealings being the same.
To share these fealings with one another,
We must now watch and pity them.

Seconds passed as minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days, days to weeks, and weeks to months. To the horror of Mrijev’s lost soul Izzy left the school. Mrijev’s feelings darkened into hate and rage to all that glanced into his blackening eyes.
Mrijev had many secrets nowadays, secret crushes, secret personalities, secret acts, and secret secrets. To the amazement of the boy Inky approached him shortly after his arrival back to the school wanting out. Mrijev worked hard for the breakup to go smoothly only to the let-down of his own being when Inky chose to stay with Kit.
The school year was winding up. Mrijev, Inky, and Kit were preparing for the end of the year in band class. It was free time, the trio was friendly messing. Inky would tickle Kit and Mrijev would join in – he secretly knew that his love language was physical touch so he was actually able to show his love to Kit without her knowing. This time the second his finger rested on Kit’s side he was struck and thrown spinning to the ground.
“Hi, Sempai!” Kit exclaimed
“Hello, Sensei.” Inky mumbled
“Good to see you molar!” Spat Mrijev as he picked up his tooth. “And good morning Charles!” he blurted sarcastically.
This kid was tall with dark blonde hair trimmed to about an inch to make it look slightly like a freshly mowed lawn from the suburbs, just without the vibrant color. This was a strong young man, he wore glasses, his ethnicity was never a subject brought up in conversation, and he often beat up on Mrijev just to practice his techniques. Sometimes Mrijev retaliated, sometimes Mrijev just ignored the pain, but most of the time Charles doesn’t even touch Mrijev. Mrijev just justifies his ignorance by remembering once that he beat Charles in a choking contest by a middle finger to a hand.
Mrijev got up and stood with the others. Kit clinged to Inky and promised him that they would stay together until they were married and had children. Charles and Mrijev gave a glance to each other because they both knew that in reality Inky wanted out, he was just too spineless to drop out. Mrijev had forgotten his mental image of Kit – since it had been replaced with Izzy’s face – so he looked over her one last time. She was short, Japanese, she had horrible eyesight so she needed glasses – it was often a game for Inky to take the glasses away and hold them a distance from Kit as she tries to grab them but because of her eyesight she can never get them. She had pitch black hair in an interesting style, she liked wearing flashy clothing – she dressed as a certain personality she had out of three. She often beat up Mrijev up for no apparent reason, sometimes, though, she had a reason.
Mrijev recollected once after school that he pestered kit so much that she took him aside afterwards and slapped him in the face sixteen consecutive times. Mrijev touched his face in recollection as his face turned numb.
After this month was over the only thing remaining of the year would be semester tests in June. After that the kids would split until the next year. Inky and Kit would visit each other often – it was often an interesting thought if they would split over the summer. Mrijev and Inky might see each other again but mostly Mrijev would stay home living the false life he set for himself.
As a full run-through Mrijev looked over his friends new grades; Mrijev, Inky, Skitz, and Jag were now sophomores. Kit and Izzy were now juniors and Charles a senior.
It was murder for Mrijev to think of life without the drama of school but he was happy because he was progressing. Mrijev wouldn’t remember much of his sophomore, junior, senior, and college years. The life Mrijev loved so much would soon end. The people he knew, the places he went, they would all change, maybe it was because of his darkened feelings or that he cared nothing for it. Was the new change good? Was the new change beneficial? Mrijev knew nothing of what was in store for him to the horror of his lost soul.

My strange tendencies make people flee,
But if you stay, maybe you'll be,
The one for me.
But yes, run, run away!
Run away, it's fine, it's okay!
You are not worth the light of my day!
But if you stay here,
And you promise not to fear,
Then I might drop a loving tear,
For you as I drift unto oblivion.