Ascend your forts and burn your castle,
Let's ride a boat and surrender to the hustle.
Let the waves revolt and swallow us to a forbidden city.

|Our bodies will become one|
|Our hearts are one|
|Our souls will forever be one|

Ascend your forts and burn your castle
Unfinished puzzles, missing pieces,
Broken promises and voiceless words
Our love will break and we'll suffer a heartache.
Our masks will fall and scars will form.

A runaway king with a flawless beauty,
You'll regret your choice but will choose me inevitably...

Here's a story about a man
Who put it on the line
Mostly calm as best as he can,
It's rare to hear him whine.

But never the fool he has to play,
The man's usually on top.
But in this moment he's nothing to say,
His eyes scream to make it stop.

Relationship woven with a pattern of trust.
Gone up in ashes with drunken lust,
A spark into a flame,
He turns his head in shame,
He lays his cards upon the table,
He's folding from this game.

He'll never say it, but we all know
That this cut him pretty deep
And to be strong, he won't let it show,
But inside he'll silently weep.

A soldier leaves no comrade behind,
A brotherhood bond struck true.
And as our friend we shall remind,
That he's better off without you.

She doesn't have to be your mother
For you to not call her a ***** for not doing what you want.
She doesn't have to be your sister
For you to not call her a ***** for having *** even once.
She doesn't have to be your daughter
For you to expect boys to respect her as a person.
"What if she was your mother/daughter/sister?"
Shouldn't be a valid question.
It shouldn't be a question that makes you stop and think,
"That's true, I need to treat women like I'd treat my female family members."
As though it's given you the epiphany
That even women you don't know are entitled to decency.
And if that question is what made you change your ways,
Get rid of the notion that women can only be treated to
The same amount of basic respect as men
If you can imagine your mother's/sister's/daughter's face staring back.

And the bravest he felt,
When she smiled at him,
Giving him the simplest pleasure,
Which could rival with the God's garden of Eden alone

paranoia of the 3rd degree
in 8th grade
when the boy i liked IM'd my friend
and said the shirt i wore to church made me look fat.

shaking nervousness in a 12 year old body
overweight
moving a fork from my plate to my mouth --
a true horror
listening to girls read calories
off a box of vanilla wafers

pinching my stomach fat
wanting to tear it off
an 8 year old who asked her older sister
to help her get thinner

decades i've wasted looking so close at every piece of me
i know how i look from every angle without a mirror
i've memorized every defect.
critical sections studied under a microscope:
i am not anything but scientific in my process.

i blow myself up to disproportionate sizes
and then wonder why sometimes i lay in bed and feel

huge.

and other times

so small.

after a while you'll begin to realize that the constant scrutiny and study of your temple is fruitless
that the hungry monster behind your ribcage
that eats dark lipstick and winged eyeliner and name brand clothes and highlighting powder and contouring brushes
that you sacrifice increments of time to every morning,
night
every prolonged glance in a mirror...
fuels itself off the notion that the images we see on a screen are the standard for cultural truth.

i turned 21 and decided to throw away the microscope.
to change what images i saw on my screens
to eliminate the photoshopped waists and fill them with pictures of normal, happy bodies
and i began to see the body that i exercised,
fed vegetables,
watered,
washed,
nurtured,
as not fat or ugly or unwanted
but as a perfect home for myself
and maybe someone else
if i wanted.

because the cultural truth lies in what you see in other humans
not dancing shadows on a screen in a cave
it lies in the gentle rolls of your stomach
and the crinkles around your lips and eyes
and the pimples on your forehead.
there is nothing garish
about reality.

I submerge my head underwater,
below the surface, bubbles rising.
Little traps of air flee from my mouth
as I swim against the currents, down.
With force and effort, my arms cut
through thick salty water, mixed with mud.
I look up to see the Sun's rays
shining through the layers of blue.
Making the wobbly waves glow brightly,
underneath you.

The air is ripped away from my lungs
and water replaces oxygen.
Filling up the empty spaces and gaps
in my chest.
It hurts to move but I struggle still
writhing helplessly, suspended in the ocean.
"Help."
Angry and scared bubbles appear, but you
just watch them as they fly.
Way up above my floating hair,
and pleading tongue I wield.
Watch me in despair with glaring eyes,
through fogged up and cloudy goggles.
I yelp in fear
you disappear
and Leave me
gasping for breath.

Tears escape like wild animals, that I try to keep contained
within the watery prisons built in my eyes,
with rubber ducks and flames.
My agony mixes with the deep, dark sea
and the Sun hides behind the horizon.
Goodnight, my dear,
just close your eyes
and Everything
Is Fine.

I once thought it imperative to write
As if my voice should be heard
Echo lisp revelations
Now I jot down despondency
On my phone
Now I lapse echo lisp
By myself
With ***** teeth
And lies wrapped around the ache drop gasp in my stomach
This experience of mine
This fetid decay of flesh


What pain are you killing?

When i am dead
I want you to
remember
that i loved
you
from deep within
my bones
but

when they scatter
my ashes
You will see
What it meant
for my bones
to be loved
by you  


only
then
will you see
how
Feeling your love
made me fly


That your love
always made me
Fly
without fear
of ever having
to land