I only write in red
I wield a pen full of blood
the pain giving meaning
to the careless actions of my wrist

You say you are in love
but it looks an awful lot like agony
there are moments when I see
the smiles on your faces
the cute little notes
reminding each other
that you are loved
but it hurts me when I can hear
you screaming at her
and her yelling back
when she storms out of a room
and you have to take care of her
when you say "let me ask her if I can"
as if she owns you

Maybe I am just too close to you
I only hear when things are wrong
cause when they are right you are with her
but I want true love for you
and I am afraid
you will stick with comfort
because it's easier than being alone
and wondering
if that was your only shot

dried leaves whimper
bullied by the wind

then thrown away
to a place they
will be crushed

disintegrated

stars scream
when they die

but we can’t hear them
until years later

I walk outside
to smell the night air

it smells like ice
it feels like spice
on my skin

another asteroid is
approaching

one day it will
not miss us

That you are fair or wise is vain,
Or strong, or rich, or generous;
You must have also the untaught strain
That sheds beauty on the rose.
There is a melody born of melody,
Which melts the world into a sea.
Toil could never compass it,
Art its height could never hit,
It came never out of wit,
But a music music-born
Well may Jove and Juno scorn.
Thy beauty, if it lack the fire
Which drives me mad with sweet desire,
What boots it? what the soldier's mail,
Unless he conquer and prevail?
What all the goods thy pride which lift,
If thou pine for another's gift?
Alas! that one is born in blight,
Victim of perpetual slight;—
When thou lookest in his face,
Thy heart saith, Brother! go thy ways!
None shall ask thee what thou doest,
Or care a rush for what thou knowest,
Or listen when thou repliest,
Or remember where thou liest,
Or how thy supper is sodden,—
And another is born
To make the sun forgotten.
Surely he carries a talisman
Under his tongue;
Broad are his shoulders, and strong,
And his eye is scornful,
Threatening, and young.
I hold it of little matter,
Whether your jewel be of pure water,
A rose diamond or a white,—
But whether it dazzle me with light.
I care not how you are drest,
In the coarsest, or in the best,
Nor whether your name is base or brave,
Nor tor the fashion of your behavior,—
But whether you charm me,
Bid my bread feed, and my fire warm me,
And dress up nature in your favor.
One thing is forever good,
That one thing is success,—
Dear to the Eumenides,
And to all the heavenly brood.
Who bides at home, nor looks abroad,
Carries the eagles, and masters the sword.