(If I were writing this to anyone else, especially and most probably a woman, it would go something like this:

I would like to unfold you one layer at a time;

I will peel off clothing

until I hit bottom

until there is nothing between

my hand and your drumming heart

except trembling skin.

But writing you right now is different; those soft words would feel forced, fake, hollow and pretty and attractive and wrong. I can’t tell you why but I know my heart has a song of its own for you and if I get it wrong you know you can laugh at it.)

Do you know how overpowering you can be?

Do you know what it is to draw a breath,

one tiny insignificant breath,

and feel my entire body throb to

                                touch you?

To run my fingertips across your skin (not necessarily gently)

to press my hands into your skin until the impress -

like a flower pressed in a book - remains.

I don’t want to peel your clothes away from you,

slow and confident and assured, (not right now).

        There isn’t always confidence in want, is there?

I’d rather tear them away from you,

quest for your beating heart and the shape of

your hip and the long line of your spine attempt,

with my lips on yours,

to take your breath and make it ours.

My hands are hungry; they feel empty, grasping, needful.

My lips are wet. I love you.

(I ask what I am saying and I wonder if this is weak: I want your body against mine.)

Well, i am back,
And i gotta new rap,
My dad, i've never seen him cry,
But today has been the first time,
He snapped an said he might be leavin,
Cause my mom, she the one who always pevein,
Tryin to make us to just what she wants,
We probably lost all of our aumbiance,
She makein us mad, and not takin the blame,
She think we gonna be played like a game,
We just the pawns, she is the queen,
But we done, we retaliate, we burst right through the seams,
She doesnt seem to care about our feelings,
She takes everything and makes it into HER dealings,
She thinks she controls how or wht we do,
But we all know, dont test 'you know who'.
Cause imma snap,
Straight to full atack,
Aim to kill,
Or get your fill,
Cause imma cold killer,
Cruel blood spiller,
And this is my plight,
So do u have the sight?
The sight to see,
Just whats in me,
The stuff of legends,
That i can tell you, dont come from the heavens,
Im not from the light, im from the dark,
On an adventure i have embarked,
Dont push me anymore, or i will snap,
Go on, lock the door, before i attack.

She believes in happy things
Invisible beings with fairy wings
Fluttery butterflies make her dance
An endless game of happenstance
Eyes of wonder, transparent soul
The world is cruel but she don't know...

She greets me with smiles from ear to ear
To hold her heart I solemnly swear
Gental touch sooth the soul
In her presence I turn to gold
She holds my restless heart at bay
As she executes her innocent ways...

Her plans get lost in the making
A pouty face when shes faking
Empty cups of invisible tea
Cartoon bandages when she bleeds
Shelfs filled with eyes that stare
She loves her tattered teddy bear...

Crayon drawling of sunny skies
She draws me with big wide eyes
Read me a story, she hands me a book
It's past her bed time but she gives me that look
I tuck her in and read her asleep
And pray my love she'll always keep...

Stand tall, and dont fall,
when the world pushes you over te edge,
grab the ledge,
and then crawl,
back up,
back in,
to the world u r thrust in
I Doubt that death is better,
cause i hope you know,
life is what you need to show, show it whos boss,
kick it in the ass,
hit the dirt with its face,
make it eat the grass,
and worship u as its master

(I think I've lost the ability to start things, so please forgive this poem for not having an attention grabbing genesis)
I've been twiddling my thumbs for almost eight months now
Putting off all that I care about
(And especially everything that I don't. Here's lookin' at you, AP World History)
Sitting around amassing a booklet of words to use in the future for novels and whatnot
But only using them in essays so I seem smarter than I am
(For example, susurrus means 'a whispering or rustling sound; a murmur')
Hoarding anything affiliated with Ben Folds because he makes me feel things on occasion
(I currently have 189 songs of his on my iTunes library; No one understands me.)
Making dick jokes at lunch while masking the thoughts of substance ricocheting around in my head
(Also your mom jokes because no one would think that you're crying internally about the uncertainty of the afterlife whilst making lewd stabs at their mother's integrity(and vagina. Ba dum tss.))
Apparently craving the lingering feel of another's touch
(I had a dream a few weeks back that Ben Folds licked my hand; My stomach folded (hahahah, folded) in on itself.)
Thinking that my feelings of misanthropy and apathy and everything else I can't find the words for yet are mine alone because everyone else is too stupid to have thought them themselves
(Even though I know that I'm not particularly special and I should stop being so elitist and stupid)

But I've finally found a light at the end of the table in the last place I'd expect--
(I meant to say tunnel, but hey, the source of said light does sit at my lunch table.)
A cherubic Presbyterian boy with an aversion to all things perverse,
(Which includes my sailor's tongue and occasional tendencies to want to put it on a member of my own sex, thought he doesn't know about that)
A spec of cleanliness on the grimy waistcoat of humanity who makes me want to be the best I can be
(Today when I saw him, I only swore once; I was very proud of myself)
But maybe I'm just jumping the gun
Because what would a good Christian boy want with a heathen like me who isn't even sure she believes in God?
Maybe his prolonged contingencies were merely contingent and I'm just overreacting because of my few and far between incidences of human contact.
(Seriously. Don't touch me.)
Maybe I just want someone to talk to for hours about everything and nothing at all.
(What with me being relatively antisocial, it's hard to find people with similar mindsets.)
Maybe I just want someone to funnel my adolescent attention to
(Because teen movies have taught me that one obviously can't be happy without having a crush on someone at any given time.)
Or maybe it's just because the way the Bible quote on the back of his t-shirt conflicted so humorously with the way he shook his hips to a J-Lo song on "Just Dance."
(Seriously, though, it was hilarious. I was dying.)
Or the way our fingers brushed when we were catching frogs
Or the way he blushed when I stepped out in my bikini
(I went to a pool party today.)
Or the way he held me momentarily in the delirious confusion of the flashing strobe lights
Or the way he got one point higher on his research paper than me a month ago
(He was excited; I was upset.)
Or the way that he does everything nearly to perfection.
I could go on..
But I don't know.
Maybe I'll get over him in a week and slip back into myself.
Because, like I said, what would a good Christian boy want with a heathen like me?

I was there from the time you were born. I stood in
the delivery room, staring down at you before you
could even open your eyes to see me. Your
parents, relatives and doctors couldn’t see me
there, in the corner, watching you with cloudy eyes,
but I was there from the time you were born.

And I followed you home.

I was with you always, your constant companion.
You played with your toys alone while I stared from
all angles in nearby mirrors; my matted, clotted
hair with oily sweat that hung off my dented
forehead like glue. I was always your constant
companion, drifting behind your mother’s car on
your ride to preschool. You alone in the bathroom,
but I was on the other side of the door, wind
whistling through the bruised hole in my throat. My
arms twisted and hanging in their sockets as I
stood hunched on the other side of the shower
curtain. I wait and follow you. I follow and drift
behind you.

I’m not seen. I’m almost not-there in light. You
never saw me that morning as I sat across from
you at the breakfast table, a shiny red clot hanging
from an empty tooth socket as I gaped grotesquely
at you. I wonder sometimes if you know I’m there. I
think you are aware, but you’ll never understand
just how close I am.

I spend hours of your day doing nothing more than
breathing in your ear.

Breathing – gagging, really.

I crave to be close to you, to always wrap my
crippled arms around your neck. I lie near you ever
single night, cloudy eyes staring at your ceiling,
underneath your bed, at your sleeping face in the
dark.

Yes. You caught me staring occasionally. Your
parents came running down to your room one
night when you screamed. You were just beginning
to talk, so you were only able to cry out “Man! Man
in my room!” You thought you’d never forget the
sight of me, with my collapsed jaw hanging to my
chest, swinging back and forth. I sank back into
your closet and your mother was unable to see me
though you pointed and pointed and pointed. You
thought you’d never forget when they left that
same night. You saw the closet door crack so
softly and me crawling across the floor to your bed
on all fours, shambling in jerking movements as I
pushed myself under your bed on disjointed limbs.

You learned a new word for me: boogeyman. Not
quite the monster you thought I was. I’m just
waiting and following you always, touching your
face with my knotted fingers as you sleep.

You’ll see me again soon. Any day now, I’m
coming, blunt and brutal. One day you’ll walk
across the road and – I believe I’ll plow into you
with loud roar and a screech.

You rolling on the pavement, rolling under wheels,
bluntforce metal fenders and my fingers touching
your face again and again.

As you stare up from the cold pavement with
cloudy eyes; your matted, clotted hair hanging in
your face and your jaw unhinged and swinging to
your chest.

You’ll see me approaching.

No one else will see me. You will stare past them
into my eyes and I’ll leer down at you. For the first
time in our life, something like a smile will come
over my face. You’ll swear you’re looking into a
mirror as clotted red bubbles from our mouths.

I’ll lean down, past the doctors and the oogling
people and pick you up in my crooked arms.

Our faces will touch. My wings will unfurl. And then
you’ll have to follow me.

And I am always with you.

I am your guardian angel.

I'm partying down at a Hollywood bash
The reason I'm here is that I crashed
I figured that if I would have asked
I would have been told to kiss their...

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies
I'm not even close to being a famous guy
Something I often ponder and question why
But that's another story for another...

Time to see if there's anyone that I know
As I'm rubbing shoulders with the escargot
Something smells fishy at this table bro
Wondering should I stay or should I...

Go ahead and think what you will of me
I'm just here to meet Justin "The Bieb"
Once I do then I can leave
Wait a minute, in the corner is that...

She gave me a glimpse from behind the bar
I'd take her home but don't have a car
With that deduction I wont get very far
Still do you think she thinks I'm a...

Star light helps to guide me home
I was found out and kicked out of the Hollywood bowl
It's a lonely walk that I'm walking home
Hey look! Another party, what the heck, you never know...

Boom boom boom
I’m in the firing range
But how I love this doom!
She’s saying I’m blind
I’m deaf and mute
Her tantrums I don’t mind
I know her heart is cute!
Her words I don’t take
Pretty sure on my part
Her anger is a fake
She loves me from her heart.
She curse me day and night
Says can’t stand my sight
But I can vouch it true
Without me she can’t do.
Whatever she says
She isn’t parting ways
I know it she can’t disguise
Love for me in her eyes.

10 days of hunger
why?
(these are the sounds you make)

You're an excuse
ok
(but we've been through this before)

Do you hear that?
yes
(and this is the sound of something breaking and imbedding)

Tell me
the knife in the dishwasher, the one they used last night

Do you know what happens if you fail?
Another masacre
(we have been accounted to many nights of no sleep and dire paranoia that I'm filling the room)

Stab yourself
Where?
(am I lying?)