I reach out in my sleep.
I claw at the wall behind my head.
I cry out, wounded.
I toss from left to right.
I reach out in my sleep.
For someone far away.
The skin I haven't touched
For a life I cannot know.
I reach out in my sleep.
To a dreamworld full of no.
It's red and black.
For blood and death.
I reach out in my sleep.
In search of something white.
For hands that fist and rest.
For your mouth on top of mine.
I reach out in my sleep.
Hoping to find you there.

I'm looking at you.
And i'm dreaming.
You're looking back.
Your skin is on mine.
Your eyes are on mine.
Your hands are on me.
I'm looking at you.
And i'm loving.
You're looking down.
Your skin is soft.
Your eyes are crystal.
Your hands are gentle.
I'm looking at you.
And i'm knowing.
You're looking away.
Your skin is your own.
Your eyes don't know me.
Your hands haven't touched me.
I'm looking at you.
But you're not looking back.
and I look away.

You're a long word I can't pronounce.
I don't understand you.
You are a chemical pattern.
Just when I think you aren't.
It turns out you always were.
Every time.
You are a bottle of something strong.
You burn on the way down.
I would say that you're water.
But you're not.
You're a serum.
You're a cure.
But you're a sickness no one knows about.
But I don't have it like they do.
My strain is something new to you.
You are burned into my DNA.
I couldn't help but love you.
Which is the saddest story
that I know.

I am a fool, if there has ever been one.
I am an actor.
A slave to a net of lies that makes my world bearable.
You were the first lie.
You were my best lie.
The one I told myself enough, and believed
in the end.
when it counted.
The selfish prince, imprisoned in a beastly form.
How different is that from me?
But I am not trapped by a sorceress's designs.
I am trapped by myself.
I am trapped inside of myself without you.
I wake, empty and cold, and my prison doesn't allow me to see
You are
My first love.
You are
A never ending wall of needles pricking at my back
A turn, I take. A street, I cross.
If only to escape.
The risk is letting you catch up with me.
The risk is knowing that I wasn't strong enough to let you go
Or pick you up when you fell
To break free of my prison and see you.
I never saw you as I should.
I never saw you because I could only see myself.
I wasn't strong enough to understand
everyone is human but myself.
Everyone feels except myself.
you drag a knife across my heart when you say my name
when you tell me what I am.
What i'm not.
But the real pain is knowing that from every pore, you sweat my truth
the knife that cuts my net.
And with that fear eating at my heart
I bleed from every needle's grave, and say your name
and beg my captor free me at last.

Today began.
I answered and something changed.
I felt powerless. I felt my arms fill with metal.
I wanted to shoot the messenger.
I wanted to make it stop.
But I couldn't bring myself to.
I loved it.
The ***** beside my lungs.
The rise and fall, the breaking bones
at every breath.
The fist of nails racking down my spine.
That's what you are.
That's you.
You're every pain have ever had.
And every dream.
And every pleasant thing.
I knew, from today's beginning
you were meant to be part of me.
You were meant to be taught by me.
You were meant for me.
I have need for no one.
then there was you, making me.
grabbing me from the inside, moving me.
Back and forth.
forward and back.
We exist for such pulls.
Like the tides.
I would have known you, good and bad.
I would have loved you until everything stopped.
I will.
I do.
So now I drag my steel filled limbs
through forests
past trees
over rocks and roots and roads
in the hope that one day
you will take pity on me
and shoot me,
as the messenger.

I had a dream before I met you
that all the world was out to get you
and I knew, even then, I wouldn't let you
fall.
I tried to dream in sunny color
but it turned out all grey and sad
i tried so hard i though i'd drive myself
mad.
I've been living a cinderella story
the kind where you're not what you are
until you are what you were
the whole time.
So now i'm pumpkin orange again
baking in the sun for everyone to see
no more dresses, pretty tresses
not for me
i'm not the girl with the pretty ball-gown
i'm the one at the front of the line
i'm the one that's always out of time
and lets things pass her by.
I'm the one with the ripped, tight jeans
and doesn't know in-between
and can never be un-seen
the visible girl.
so i started with a rhyme and ended with a reason
and now i'll fall, my favorite season
and now i'll fall back where I was.
Where i have been
the whole time.

Byron, Byron, Shelley, Poe
Hate the way your poems go
heated highways prove as slow
in dizzy dusty ashen snow.
Biting, Biting, burning you
the face of all I know as true
punctured perfect don't and do
I'm dizzy without thoughts of you.