I want to write it on your skin:
how I love you, need you, know you.
want you. there is warmth in every second
drinking time with you, love on eyes.
I want to stretch prose across your back,
your neck, your lips, your hands,
your arms, where I rest in pieces
of deep contentment.
I want to cover you in ink...
tasting blue on your lips,
feeling you feel the words I stutter to say
and writing love on your skin.

It's late now, and the moon is too loud.
the cold touch, surreality
and the harshness of knowing are too much.
I need the static and to chew glass,
to dive beneath the grassy waves
or become part of the mattress.
it's too loud, too light.
i need to be still, so that this will pass me by.
if no one breathes, and i close my eyes
perhaps i can purge myself of sense
scrub my mind, my insides
and think of nothing at all.

i try
everyday
to make myself cold
small and  jagged
so that perhaps
you will believe the lies i tell you
everyday
and leave.
i try
everyday
to make myself
leave you
your warm smile
and soft hands
that thaw me, because if not,
you'll think that i love you.
and i will.

How, now, to toss a heart
and prevent inevitable shatter?

she loves war paint,
battle drums,
peace rallies, angry kisses
sports what-me heels?
and ****** lashes
she'll break your heart,
or a window
with sweet reassurances
on buzzed breath.

Watch the stars fall down
a metronome guiding through
the electric buzz.

Forget the bills, I want the gold
I want to live before I get too old
I don't need your love, your sanity
All I want is you to release me
I don't believe your pretty lies
Let me go and let fists fly
I don't want to live a fairytale life.

Your name is music
pronounced as a French kiss
my tongue dancing over your
mountainous syllables
and bringing your mouth
close to my ear
to whisper its secrets.

I look back
and see this person
she's making herself quite useless
and there is a thorn
in one paw, yes, but
the other just flutters
and calls for help
she doesn't want help
or she'd help herself.

The bells are ringing
Christmas, class, alarm clocks
singing 2010 to sleep
bringing us closer to
a brighter new time,
another chance to love, fail, succeed
a clean white fog to cover the ***** snow
and the blood on our boots
I hear them ringing
and I sit beneath mistletoe
waiting for Lady Luck
to give me a new year.

I think you do not fall downwards into love
rather, you circle eathother warily
slowly entangling , a double helix
of mutual fascination
and desire
breath matching the tempo of heartbeats
certainty pulled apart, bodies together
motion by emotion, death by little death
heart and mind entwined in dangerous play.

When the times are hard and your heart is heavy,
when the friends are too few and the enemies many,
don't forget the smile I searched the world to find
don't forget the hugs I gave  although you weren't kind.

stop what you're doing and run **** in the rain.
stop being afraid to love someone again.
you're indulging yourself in idle misery
you're aching to laugh again, so don't deprive me
of seeing someone i love live happily.

Is it really better to lose at love
than never play the game?
Is it truly wiser to bare your soul
knowing it will never be the same?
Because on these lonely nights,
I wish I'd never seen your face,
and that my lonely ****** heart
had never left its place.

I eat fire
I swallow it whole
I dance to the flames
that spark in my toes
You feel the heat
as I pass, as I pause
I light your fire
then I burn you raw.

i am searching for reasons
where none exist.
loyalty requires that i fulfill
the contract written by destiny:
years ahead, time to ****, another day.
but it's a ****** lie and
i want to go home.

I am powerless
pitted against your will.
You're so beautiful:
a hard, bruising embrace,
unkind with a ****** heart.
I may love you.
But I have nothing more to give:
I am but bones and memory.

Selfishly in the night I raise you from the dead.
each suture cleanly picked, caressed and bled
until I'm lost. I wake to pink skies.
Gray memories call behind me: tentacular smoke
pulling, insisting, towards you, and hell.
but you were one for ice, not fire.

If I turn quickly I can still see it:
'two skinny long-hairs' in an empty hall
blushing, secret, tripping into a kiss
knocking together and  sliding past innocent days.
I didn't blame you, naturally, but there's
blood on your hands and you still have my things.

So I close my eyes again and sail for another day,
another night to miss you, to watch you fall grain
by unnoticed grain in a sandglass.
already the light has changed and you no longer glow.
it is a cruel hope, but I know I shall awake
and one day, find no lover, only dust.

A pomegranate
is unlike your whorish apple.
Regal, divine,
Only a diligent suitor feasts.

funny how you're broken yet
the world keeps turning
and the ants keep marching.
already life has accepted this,
long before it happened,
even if it wouldn't happen.
we'll kick and fight
but the world turns on,
and the ants march on.
funny how you're never really
broken, just rearranged.

I love your story.
your arms, your eyes, funny face.
i pause and wonder.

there comes a point of such desperation
and need for what you can't quite name

there comes an step that is the just one too far
you cannot lift your feet again

there is the last stream you cannot cross.
you are spent and finished and
done trying for you're not quite sure what.

no more. just, no more,
turn your back on everything
walk away scathed, loathed, and
incredibly drunk if need be.

whatever it takes to do whatever
is going to make you happy again
put the tears back and pull up
the curtains of your thirtysomething ivories

i am sorry sorry sorry
(too many apologies mean nothing's left)
and no one can give you back what's gone.