Have you ever lied awake
thinking about someone until you cried?
     Not because you were sad
     but because your eyes were so tired?
Have you ever traced your hands
over yourself wishing it was someone else?
     Not always dirtily, mostly just
     longing for their company?
Have you ever thrown away
promise and possibility?
     Not because you didn't trust,
     but because you didn't know how to?

When we first met you were a firework,
Soaring through the night sky,
Hurling yourself into an explosion of color and light,
I watched from below in awe of your presence,

When we first met,
I had butterflies fluttering in my chest,
newly awoken and freed from their cocoons,
With a thirst to see all of what this new place had to offer,

When we first met,
I was a boy who had been growing up just a little too fast,
The parts of myself I thought I lost long ago
came stumbling out from their corners and onto center stage,
Making me feel younger than I have ever felt before,
Putting laughter back into my vocabulary,

When we first met,
You were a girl with a smile and so much to give,
Armed with a desire to wrap this world in your arms
and whisper that it would all be okay in the morning,

Dear unrequited lover..
I know this dance is a slow one,
My feet are clumsy and my arms are heavy sometimes,
But this song is one I can move too.

What is it with this generation of lost souls? Do you ever just sit and think, where did we lose the part that made us whole?
Somewhere along the way, hating love and loving hate became the forefront of everything we say.

Somehow it became the generation of kids who probably won't realize they're adults until, one day, they look in the mirror and see that they're 45, still in the same pair of designer jeans and expensive shoes they could barely even afford. And the only reason they bought them was to post a picture on instagram just to get false sense of validation from people they barely even know.

We lost sight of the importance of being an advocate of self.
When we have money, that's our only weath.
What about wealth in mind, body, spirit?
This generation would rather snort lines for an out of body experience.
How sad.
The generation that will laugh watching others cry, just to fit in.
What, exactly, are you trying to fit into?
What is it really, that prevents you from being in-tune?
Why the moon isn't as interesting as that little corner of doom in a messy room, while you have no desire to bloom.

I want so badly for this generation to be better, together.
To treat one another like sister and brother -
It's time for everyone to blow their cover.
Take off the mask, they're no longer needed.
Be the future, because we are. Become what you want to be seeded.
It's okay to cry or to ask for help. Put your pride aside, go inside to find that real wealth.
I challenge you to be better.
Look yourself In the mirror and surrender.
I wish you love and peace through all of your endeavors.

Love.
- L.G.

You may not have been birthed in the soil,
and granted,
you will not blossom
when spring melts winters wake
but inside of you
grows a thousand gardens
full of exploding stars.
You are of the earth
and your ashes
have been constructed with stardust,
and set free with the wind.
So you may not have a pretty face,
and your body may hold stories
of too many moonless nights alone.
But if you reach inside,
you will find a forest
for a ribcage
and a restless ocean heart.
So don't ever let anyone tell you
you are nothing.
You are a galaxy
holding a million different planets,
and my dear,
that is not nothing.

Do demons ever sleep?
    If so, do they ever dream?
Or do they just live in us,
   Only as real as we allow them to be?

In my dreams
of demons,
Sorcery of Horror
Takes hold while I'm sleeping
I wake up screaming
In the oblivionic darkness
Cold sweat and shallow breathing
I don't know what it means
but I think Nightmares could be
A gateway for your mind to see
into the Dreams
of Demons...

Drowning in your eyes
Wild and blue like the ocean
Tossing about in their storm
Is the most poetic way
That I've ever died.

A kiss dissected,
A gentle worship of your mouth,
That warm place my lips called home