when I lived with Kyle, we had a shot glass on our bathroom counter we kept there. A small house spider made its home inside of it. Every night before I went to bed I would tell it; Good night Westley, Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely **** you in the morning.

I haven't seen you in awhile my dear
And now there's something I've come to fear
That I don't remember the smell of your hair
But at least I'd recognize that smile anywhere
And I might not remember the taste of your lips
But I still want my arms around your hips
But your laugh, now that is unforgettable
And every moment we're together, is un-regrettable
Oh I miss you with every fibre of my being
And I'm jealous of those friends, whom you keep on seeing.

i want it all.
your sleepy murmurs in my ear
as you drift away on a sea of dreams, the
gentle strokes of your fingers,
soft against my spine, the way
you hold me with your whole body.

i watched the moonlight draining onto
your bedroom walls as i lay beside your
slumbering warmth & felt something like happiness
radiating from my core.  your sheets danced with shadowplay
as i listened to your steady breaths
in & out,
couldn’t bear to slip away.

here’s the truth:
your arms feel like home,
like safety,
like a place i never want to leave.  
when you held me in that meadow,
wrapped in dreams & lust & a stark-flecked sky,
whispered the first i-love-you,
i wanted it all.

i want it all,
want to be yours,
crave you in the most indelible of ways,
urgent & deathless.
it’s finally time.  throwing out the razors.
cleansing the smoke from my lungs.
trading the bad habits i wear like shackles
to drown in your skin & sweat & sunshine.

maybe i don’t have a good reason for wanting it.
maybe i just know.

The sun rose sideways over
Trees so full of birds I'd thought they'd
Taken the place of any
Real branches. The song came quiet, 
Making conquest of our opened ears,
And ******, if it all wasn't gorgeous.

The Jazz in it hummed loudly,
Asking whence the shakes began.
She screamed in an ear to
Inquire about the fun she's having. 
Stuck staring in a rear view,
With hope they're unaware of
Locked doors. 

Green-garnished, gold-rimmed eyes, and a
Brandished black mask, blocking the brightness,
But also the bad intentions. 
Let 'em know where you come from,
And they'll use it against you. 
Let them see where you're going: then, 
They run for the hills. 

"What's a vice worth, if you
Don't nourish it?"                
                                                               ­               What's a number, but an
                                                              ­                Excuse, or a limit?
"See, there's a countable
Amount of stuff, in this universe, but we're
Still unsure of what we're
Doing in life."

Gasping at the light's 
Bounce off foreign plants. 
Recollections of strengthened bonds,
Pressing heavy, into wet dirt
Of a previous day's rain. Fearing 
Faith in what you can't understand. 
Working for the worst people in the world. 
But because, you must 
Help, to exist. 

But break the bubble, 
Roll back those shoulders, tuck those wings
                                                           ­                   Maybe get the **** out of the car?
"I'm getting there, ******."

The pen trembles, the paper perspires,the hand remains steady. Or is the mind weary and reality an illusion within a dream?
Infatuated with harmonising every line. Your mind is violent but your words are quite. incessantly bleeding the pen but there is no pain in your words, just anarchic serenity as you conclude with tranquil tragedies.