call me an architect with shaking
hands, building buildings built
to crumble --
     if that what it takes to
     keep you, so be it;
     i'll find you in the rubble

Hey you
With your soulful brown eyes
And slender frame
It's cute when you use my name
I dread our goodbyes
Hey you
With your silly stories
And odd little quirks
You and I'll make it
Despite the jerks
If not we can fake it
Hey you
I like you
With your not so appropriate jokes
The way you walk proudly
I love being in your arms
I'll say your name loudly
Hey you
I love you

i've found it much easier to have nothing than to have half of something
even smooth rocks become sharp when you break them in half
that's why i felt so much better when you left
i would rather feel nothing than lay in a bed of broken glass

Watching eyes and telling lies
That's what little boys are made of
Tiny tops and ***** on the rocks
That's what little girls are made of

because instead of her lips, her words will send you to dream land

the infliction of her voice will cause your heart to ramble

her tone will send chills down the middle of your magenta scars

~
Fall for a poet because //
Her word choice will make you feel as if you are art

As if you have been sewn
As if your skin tone was created by the experiment of combining multiple browns and beiges

That , that scar on your forehead is simply a watermark scribbled by the great architect

~
Fall for a poet because//
when she does touch you , you will be swallowed by her embrace and washed away to a forever .

poetry isn't poetry anymore
it didn't always used to be about artifical ink on a screen
it was about the paper stained ink
the paper that makes you think
the blank page seen as a challenge to those who knew about storms
a blanket on the cold nights you thought you'd freeze to death
ink was a super power
now turned into a machine
automatic
artifical
when it used to be just art
memories that started with a pen
a treasure hunt
all through time square
times there were ink stains in the bathroom on the floor
bike riding in your mind leving a trail behind
but screens go treasure hunting for you
ink staind
be sane
report button when you don't filter who you are
i don't need to filter my blood stains
machins don't poetry for you