I am not jealous
of what came before me.

Come with a man
on your shoulders,
come with a hundred men in your hair,
come with a thousand men between your ******* and your feet,
come like a river
full of drowned men
which flows down to the wild sea,
to the eternal surf, to Time!

Bring them all
to where I am waiting for you;
we shall always be alone,
we shall always be you and I
alone on earth
to start our life!

It took billions of years and a big bang
To come where we are
Billions of stars were born and died
In the darkest hour on a canvass of light

Billions of people have walked this earth
Billions more will come and go
Billions of rainfalls and armies of clouds
But what are billions compared to now

my face is too hot
my hands are too cold
a manifestation of the confusion
taking place inside of my head

i deserve better
i spend all of my time
trying to please them

what do i get in return?
distrust and disarray
what would i give up
to make this go away? i'd give
the heat and the cold

take both, it doesn't matter
not to me, not to them

i'm on guard all the time
if i let my smile slip
they think i'm depressed

if i smile too much
they think i'm hiding something

what would i give
for a plastic smile?
i'd give up my emotions
what would i give up
to make this go away? i'd give
the heat and the cold

take both, it doesn't matter
not to me,
certainly
not to them

sleep isn't for the weak.

sleep is for those who hear "I love you" on a regular basis. sleep is for those who can intertwine their fingers with their significant ones. sleep is for those who can feel the warmth of a hug. sleep is for those who have someone to stay up with them at night to talk about aliens, indie music and politics. sleep is for those who have someone to admire them, even at their bedhead. sleep is for those who feel content, comfort and worth.

sleep isn't for those who stay up at night waiting for a good night call. sleep isn't for those who wait for a reply to the message they sent 3 days ago. sleep isn't for those who write long-*** poetry to someone who won't even read them. sleep isn't for those who cry at night, wishing they were enough. sleep isn't for those who think they don't deserve it. sleep isn't for those who have loved and will never be loved.

*go to bed, self.

Me:
Is it all my fault?
The way I feel?


Monsters:
Of course, you are sensitive, stupid, and naive.
You are making it worse and worse.
It's all your fault. Every last bit.

I dislike any question that begins with "How do you".
Not because the question is wrong
Nor is the questioner for trying to obtain the knowledge they do not currently have.
Instead, what I dislike is the idea that someone else has supreme knowledge on a subject.
"How do you tie a tie"
As if there's only one way.
"How do you make salsa"
Depends on how spicy you want it.
"How do you become happy"

You see everyone has their own answers to these questions.
Everyone thinks they are right because, to them, they are.
There are subjectively correct ways to do everything
But there's never an objective right or wrong.
Some ways might be more or less right
But never flat out right or wrong.
Because you see it's in the eye of the beholder.

However, my view of this isn't always shared.
Some people think that their way really is right
And that's a dangerous mentality to have.
Because when you tell me that my salsa is actually incorrect
Or my tie needs just another tug to make it your perfect
You ruin my own.
My things then become yours and suddenly we all slowly become
Less and less
Us.

I dislike the question "How do you"
Because when I ask how someone else does something,
I feel as if I lose a little bit of myself along the way.

i tell myself:
                     "To be used; is to be wanted,
                                                                       to be loved."
Only pathetically
can i ever dream
that they be
synonymous.