I wonder what it would be like to rid the world of digital chat lines.
I think it's time we deleted IM.
Yes, I admit it's convenient and fast and easy and cheap but
It pays a much higher price.
Think about a life with no edited conversatios
In real life, you said what you could without having to think about it.
Even if it was embarrassing.
Even if it was stupid.
Hell, even if it was a little creepy.
I think it's cute when people stumble and trip over things they've said.
Have you seen a boy blush when he accidentally blurts out her likes you?
Its the best thing... the imperfection of people.
There will be no backspace, no second shot
No record for the NSA to use for future blackmail.
Won't you be more careful of the words you say then?
Won;t you be more kind?
Won't you choose words more carefully?
Won't you shed your veils and shine?

We all want to be satisfied
We either want love, or a crazy fix
We may become addicts, of chasing passion
We just want dying relief

Bribing, skeeving, scheming
The intense eye stares
the smiles
We are all disturbed
"You ruin it for the rest of us"

Players that are part of a team, that don't want to play the game

Relative stereotypes
Lesbians
The endless hunger
for something satisfying to the tip of your tongue
and back of your mouth

Drug use, drug use
One night stands
Can you humble me?
Follow me into the room
repeat

Waiting Waiting
Hoping Wishing Wanting
Stepping up towards me in the road
opened door
hug hello, a familiar desire to hold her
closely
Blink of an eye
cooking cleaning love making eating dreaming conversing
Blink of an eye
You're no longer there.

Cuddle up with Jokes in the night
Cradling him in my lap
Intense heart thumping
breathing in and out
he is pouring

Wishing Waiting Away
Yearning Grasping Needing
Helping Solving word by word
Holding hands, second chance
Bonding loving hugging warmth
extra annoyance coming and going
keeping attention so much pressure
bounded by love, attached at the
lungs

she's one of those girls with
painted eyes and
long sleeves in summer,
a vacant stare
and nowhere left to turn,
long red lines
slashed over years of cross hatched moon white scars.
she'll tell you dying is an art.

cigarette filter ringed with red lipstick,
she pursues her death in slow steps,
still hoping in some hidden secret place
for someone to kiss her wrists and tell her she did okay,
to fall in love with her beautiful tragedy.

and she is beautiful,
but not for the reasons she's assembled in her head.
there is nothing lovely or romantic
in her quest for self-destruction,
but there is beauty in her strength.
the glory is not in her pursuit of death,
but her ability to live.
she does not need you to save her,
and you cannot,
as much as she'll beg you to try.

kiss her lips instead of her scars.
love the breath in her lungs and the life in her veins.
treat her body like something too precious to destroy.
give her love to hold onto
while she learns to create her own.

it is up to you to love her,
should you choose.
it is up to her to decide
that death can wait.

Her hands are shaking.
Trembling, trembling as the box moves closer to her reach.
Her heart is racing just as fast as she used to everyday after school when she ran from the school bullies.
Her heart is pumping blood just as her wrists do after she introduces them to a blade.
Her heart is slowly being mended just like the reconciliation of her relationship with her psychotic sister.
Her hands are shaking so bad she can't make out the outline of them in this dimly-lit room.
The candle light ricochets off the walls.
All she can think about is how he has stood beside her this whole time.
The room smells of cigarettes, which reminds her of the first time she met him.
That night at the corner liquor store where she went after her grandad died.
Trying to drown the pain by drowning herself in
pills and alcohol.
She was approached by a man who smelt of death who tried to steal her money, and if he got any further, her virginity.
Just as the man went to put his hands on her, the boy stepped up and protected her.
That trend continued for years as he protected not only her, but their love as well.
She knew she had finally found something worth loving truly for.
No more hiding who she truly was behind drugs, lies, and a noose hung ready in her closet.
She realized that he made her complete.
She'd walk to the end of the earth for him and he'd crawl with broken legs all the world around to see her.
But as the bills piled high and the eviction notices multiplied by the hundreds, they didn't know how to move on.
She turned back to the drugs and the pills as she knew she was drowning,
Drowning deeper and deeper.
Waiting to feel his hand plunge deep in the water to save her life.
And he'd do it every time.
She realized that he took her sky high with his love.
This would soon overcome all her addictions, leaving her only addicted to his love.
She could barely breathe as her hands touched the box.
By now she was surprised they hadn't fallen off from trembling,
Trembling so much.
As she opened the box, her breath rapidly started to leave her body.
She could feel herself going numb.
She couldn't speak.
As he pulled the ring from the box, her body shook more and more from excitement and shock.
He asked for her hand in marriage, and she started to cry with joy.
After they kissed he whispered, "You've always been my addiction."