I used to draw on my arm all the time
Nothing big or elaborate
Just a triangle
One triangle
Then I wouldn’t hear the end of it
Everyone complaining
Ink poisoning
Future punk
What’s next, a motorcycle?
So I stopped
I stopped drawing that little triangle on my wrist
Right above my pulse point
But with it
I
Stopped
L I v I n g.
A triangle was supposed to be the strongest shape
It was supposed to make me strong
But I wasn’t even strong enough
To let it stay

Pleasure seems only recognizable
after breeching the membrane of pain.
We were a beautiful catastrophe.
Sun after slashing rain.
Questioned by the sane.
Velvet and volatile.
Looking back at the stretches
of  blackened miles.
At all our infinite tries.
A sunrise and sunset were never destined to occur together.
You are my painful, passionate chance at never......

construction
of constructing
and battling
of the obscene
in garlic work
from universe annoyed
halting deplorable
frolicking adorable
splices of kindred
spree and coward
fighnt of outed way

there were worlds in my eyes that no one else could see....
they called me a dreamer, the way I would imagine the world not as it's truly seen
I was anything but....
I was set apart
always running in circles as they all think it's so easy
but I was living in a non reality
my mind spoke to loud
they have no idea how everything is so hard.

I’m begging you to find
The time
To call me

I don’t know what you call it
when you throw the glass
with a broom already in hand
maybe I just wanted to know
if it would make a sound
when I simply can’t.

I think I'm falling for you—
I can feel the ache,
its every telltale sign.

I think I'm falling for you—
have needed to, wanted to,
since I can remember.

I think I'm falling for you—
for the idea of you
I couldn’t help but create.