I would like to give you that air that inhabits you for just one moment.
I would like to take your hand, and have that certain touch that is sincerely marked.
I would like to be a luscious moment, even if it may slip right by.
I would like to be that fire, so that something beautiful can touch me.
I would like to slip into that moment, unnoticed.
I would like to be a part of that distant memory, that may be unnecessary.
I would like to be that unnoticed.

All of his soft spoken words,
Generating the faintest memories.
Please remember each soft, subtle touch.
I long to embrace your soft spoken word.

Carrying the appropriate amount of tears, touched by the devil.

The smell of daisies, brushing my face, tickling my toes.

I am nearly unfamiliar with the definition of sanity, in a time such as this.

You tend to stay the most beautiful in the back of my mind.

Unfiltered emotionalism continues.

He said, “Come with me and this can happen,” (soft spoken)  
I didn’t know what it meant,
That is why I agreed.

I came upon every faint memory with a boy,
I abruptly listened to you. Every word.

Trembling in the distance, the faint sound of the piano touched my palms.
I was infatuated by the thought of glitter, she said.
Trying my very best to understand the mere definition of beauty.
I encouraged myself to be beautiful, in each sense.
Do what I say,
And you will be beautiful, it said.
My little lack of letting my own light lure into my bones.
This little piano sits in the back of my mind, and tells me things.
Very soft, uncanny ideas, it tells me.
Wishing to be taken for the word beautiful,
And wishing for each little light to lure into my bones.
I wish for the whispering girls outside my window to stop,
Stop with this whispering.
I do not know how to perceive any of the information anymore.
Soft little light brushes my cheek,
The lights tells me every once in a while to be true.
But they don’t tell me quite enough, so I don’t remember.
This piano plays little tunes, it reminds me.
Reminds me of how alone I am not.
Because my bones are longing to lure in its own light.
I know, she said.
It told me things,
Uncanny, soft things.

I lust for you
to think of me
daydream
of your scribbled greetings
of your silent longing,
your thoughts of me
(thinking of you)

thirsty
for some confession
of truth
something drastic, something new

in this stagnant springtime

colours, bright and harsh
yet they fall upon me
oh so dull
the wind avoids my skin
walking in a vacuum
so constantly numb
so ardent for
a crack in
the continuity

it subdues
any passion
even my hatred
for routine

letting me subconsciously
slip
into the nightmare
of the "american dream"
the steady pretending
this enmeshment
it infects
the very seams of
my existence