I paint my nails black
I dye my hair a darker shade
of brown
'*** you like your women
spanish, dark, strong, and proud
I paint the sky black
You said if you could have your way
You'd make a night time all today
So it'd suit the mood of your soul

Oh, what can I do?
Nothing, my sparrow blue.
Oh, what can I do?
Life is beautiful but you don't have a clue.

Sun and ocean blue
Their magnificence
It don't make sense to you

Black beauty
Black beauty

I paint that house black
My wedding dress black leather too
You have no room for light
Love is lost on you

I keep my lips red
To seem like cherries in the spring
Darling, you can't let everything
Seem so dark blue

Oh, what can I do?
To turn you on
Or get through you
Oh, what can I do?
Life is beautiful but you don't have a clue

Sun and ocean blue
Their magnificence
It don't make sense to you

Black beauty
Black beauty
Black beauty
Black beauty
Black beauty
Black beauty, baby
Black beauty, baby

Oh, what can I do?
Life is beautiful but you don't have a clue

Sun and ocean blue
Their magnificence
It don't make sense to you.

Paint me a way home
I no longer want to be alone.

Use your yellow paint
And engulf me,
Into a beautiful world
Without any restraint.

That blue can be used
As the new sea,
Full of life
and full of being.

I will no longer be afraid
Of the wideness of the sea.
I will be comforted by the brushstrokes
Of the new beginning.

Paint me a home
White, with no mistakes.
No smudges
No gray.

Most importantly
Will you paint me?
With no mistakes, no smudges
A pair of new eyes
as blue as the sea.
Paint me and my being.
Make me feel yellow.
Make me happy.

I don’t want to feel lonely.
I want to be painted lovely.

And in a blink, my perspective switched.
all we had,
all I thought we had
turned into a feeling of discomfort
and no longer love.

Your words were then stale
like the emotions you felt towards me.
I was simply a bridge
to get you to her,
your one true love.

Little did you know
I am the most unstable bridge
you could have ever walked across.

Little did you know
once I saw her perspective
I saw the real you
like she always has.

This bridge has been crumbling out from under your feet
so you better learn to carry yourself.

There once was a time
when I'd defend
those eyes.

Every eye is a chasm of beauty, the entirety of the soul.

That was a year ago.
My perspective has changed,
like the sound of your name.
I'm no longer familiar
with those eyes.

I'm scared.

To you these are simply few words with little meaning, scribbled on paper.

This art is made up of blooming thoughts.
Once remarked, then glorified.
Recognition of the amazement in ourselves.
No longer an outcast
Just a vessel of beauty.

Never will you know how much these words mean to me.
You are blind to me.  

I am lined paper torn up and thrown on the cold floor
You’re oblivious to the steps you take.
These words are endless thoughts with no magnitude.

My soul is in disguise, between faint blue lines, hidden but alive.
Thriving, with the pain of no gratitude.

I’m sorry you cannot see the beauty in paper.
I’m sorry you cannot see the beauty in me.

The last time I caught myself
was when I still counted the seconds.
The seconds between our words,
the seconds between your breaths,
The seconds between your replies.
and I'd obsess.
But a long time has passed
a year at that.
I'm no longer counting the seconds.
I'm no longer counting you.
The only counting i've done
is how many days we've been through.
Sometimes I skip a day
but i'd never skip the seconds.
I'm finally letting go
of my obsession.
It's not numerical.
It's not mathematic.
It's you
you've always been my bad habit.

It’s been a dark corridor for a while.
I was hoping I could go into one of those beautiful picture frames
But I was never one to appreciate photography.

Can I disappear out of a window;
Even if there is a drop?
Sometimes I prefer the drop, some days I prefer it a lot.

Could I float into the sky?
Or would I be stuck in the ground?

Can I become one with the orange of the sunset horizon?
Could I become one with the blue of the day sky?

I’ve became one with the darkness of the night, and I think it’s about time to change the light.

The innoncence is dying inside of me
With every exposure to evil tearing it out
No purpose in sewing these wounds
It's universally seen as normal
To lose an optimistic outlook

After this year it'll be completely vanished
I'll share the same laughter
But it will never reverberate again
Not after my innocence comes to an end

my strive for perfection will never be solved
life to me is a game of connecting the dots
connect my flaws
and count how many surgeries
i will need
to feel
complete.

a negative outlook
but only to myself
"you'll never find love"
and love i never felt
"a negative outlook will get you nothing"
they do not see the beauty in everything
else,
but myself,
like i do.

"why can't you be in photographs?"
why can't a corpse breathe?
it's impossible physically
but mentally for me.

it is not my fault
i'm not the one to blame
i had not chosen
to be a part of God's cruel game
illness is not a choice
i would not choose to be this way

i would love to be happy
i would love to be like you
i would love to be pretty
i would love to be brand new

my rose colored glasses
cannot censor the fear
i feel in the presence of him.
like a suspect,
the lady-like lenses crack under pressure
when his hand conveniently slips
on a busy night.
bustling, blinding, blending
right into the blur are his hands
guiding my anxieties and insecurities through the roof
as he grants himself permission
to lust my body the way no one has ever done before.
and i feel the foriegn touch
unwelcome on my adolescent hips.
but still i stand with a padlock over my trembling lips.

Deprivation of love is the end to a normal life.
Instead of infatuation with anothers' eyes, I am lying awake at night.
It's been almost two decades since someone has ever cared.
And now that I see a pair of eyes, infatuation is never there.
A gloss goes over mine, as his eyes shine.
It's not the love i feel-
but it's the feeling of finally not getting left behind.

Soft like glass.
I am doe-eyed,
stuck between the future and the past.

Smooth, transparent, yet fragile
let me fall
and i promise to shatter
all over me
all over you.

Until we are both red-stained,
blotchy
tear-soaked,
and nauseous.

Soft like glass.
I am running
between the future and the past.

Red-haired artificially
with shiny teeth,
clean knees
with a gap in between.

and my voice will carry
like a songbird in the morning.
Beautifully composed
uttering a peaceful warning

My linens
So pink...
no blue stains to be seen.

And the skin I wear
Porcelain.
airbrushed and screaming
a lulled importance

With my night creams
and appointments
lessons and ointments

I will become the most perfect woman-made sculpture America has ever seen.

Alone with the wind am I,
the darkness is quiet but not shy.
An eternity of sleepless nights
a night of broken lights.

My mind is a library,
full of pondering and wonders.
The darkness is a blanket
as I am under covers.

Thinking , planning
at the hours of mine.
When the darkness is around
And the lights do not shine.

But I do not choose
to be full of interrogations
I do not choose
to spend countless nights
with my mind racing.

My eyes are red, tired, raw
my body is surrendering,
But my mind is not tired through it all.

I am doing constant laps,
all through my mind.
Of differing opinions
in differing time.

Alone with the wind am I.
I struggle to get by.
As the darkness controls me,
all I control are my cries.

I pretend that I am beautiful in that blissful time of solitude.
I can trace the ***** of my nose,
the pout of my lips,
and I am beautiful.

The reality of my reflection is no longer there; only my beautiful mind.
No realist outlook can interfere.

When I'm alone; nothing can ruin the echoes of my mind.
No mirror can tear it down.
No tangible force can destroy the real beauty.
Beauty is all that is there in the hypnosis of solitude.

Love is all that I feel with the freedom of nothing.
My illness is cured.
My heartache fades.
My haunting is reversed.

I am alone with the beauty within.
Surrounding me,
inside of me,
alongside of me.

But once I step out of my mind; I am pushed into a heartbreak greater than all.
The heartbreak of myself.
The confrontation of my reflection.
The fire inside ignites once again; and I am locked into a paradox.

Until I am alone.

It's not unaware to me that I am not the air you would like to breathe. My atmosphere is too heavy, too overwhelming. Hers is as light as the snowflakes intertwined with her hair. She's an object of attraction, while my features are outweighed by my abyss of a soul. You can not own me, like you want to possess her. Her vessel is purely physical, mine is as solid as the howling wind. My air is pressurizing. Her air is enough to breathe safely.

I don't want to go back to the place I once rested.

I don't want to set myself on fire,
just because you gave me the match.
I don't want to hurt myself,
because you gave me the words to.

I only wanted you.
I only needed to be heard.

I won't set myself on fire,
I won't believe the words you speak.
I'm no longer the object you used.
I'm a person.

I don't need you.
I don't want you.

I need to be heard
only in my own head.

I won't go back to the place I once rested,
because I never was the one to break promises.

How can you carry yourself-
an empty mind, heart, and soul?

back and forth
high and low
but how high can a Pendulum go?

how high can its cold steel float?
and just how low
will my Pendulum slow
to a gentle end.

No regard to wind,
only to the momentum within
a single steel shine
of the Pendulum's frigid, orderly chime.

Like bees to honey
are my anxieties to me
In subtle matresses
with sunken eyes
I percieve my neurotic dreams
my desperate aspirations
my misconstrued qualities
my blinded prophecies

Observations
have no limitations.

The green surprise
speckled through your eyes.

The long dirt path
our loud prolonged laughs.

Your smile beaming
as the trees leaning.

The emotion shifts
my mind clicks.

It's all a dream
nothing inbetween.

The laughters gone
it has been for long.

But i'll go to sleep
and the dreams I'll keep.

One day it will be okay
and I wont sleep my grief away.

Like billowing drapes in the
infamously airy Fitzgerald scene,
deep cerulean waves transform me
into an idle dope.

Still yet existing, breathing,
confined
to les regles of the trade
even in the softly overwhelming shadow
of the undiscovered waters.

The soft breeze only provides temporary
relaxation.
I am strongly affected in my physical state:
vegetative, even.
But my psyche screams for

A true offering of peace,
the final offering,
the permanent offering,
the end.

The wind was a horror script
howling, thrilling
its symphony was met
with fearful eyes
hers, an encyclopedia
his, a rubik's cube

Simmering down
to an unnoticed lull.
A null state of being,
a dormant volcano.

Though the magma boils
deep, deep, deep inside—
on the surface it is cold.
icy.
ignored.

The fire, it burns solo.
Once sharing the electric eruption
with the charming atmosphere—
letting go,
feeling, for once.

Now,
lays low.
Boiling hot— burning the inside.
internally combusting.
suicide.

Nights may conquer the perspective you carry in your mind, and darkness may play into the way you rewind.
Don't let go of your life,
don't let go of your breaths.
Live for waking up to the sun peering through the cracks in the blinds.
Live for listening to the music that makes you feel infinite.
Live for the butterflies he gives you,
live for the lessons you learn when he leaves you.
Live for the kindess of strangers on the street,
for the happiness in strangers' smiles that you meet.
Live for dancing around your room-
alone.
Live for finding your home.
Live for rain on a summer night.
Live for the ocean on a lonely day.
Live for everything,
for everything can be beautiful.
Live for life.

Shift.
And your eyes meet mine,
brown meets brown mixes
double the intensity
We are sweet, innocent
we melt in the heat.
Chocolate.
Shift.
My tongue against yours
a minty fresh communion
You are enticing, inviting
you love me freely
Peace.
Shift.
Our voices seem to overlap
more often than not
And it’s freezing
I’m shivering, i’m alone
Ice.

but these are blooming thoughts,
so treat them as so—
admire their beauty as they continue to grow
slowly but surely,
we will come to know
if our love is a white or red colored rose.

Bug bitten and red
I wrestle with time and
plead with the dead

Give me the answers
for the voices
in my head

Blue and green bruise
i’m shaking with anxiety
before hearing the news

Lead me to a place
of peace
where I can feel free

Scarred, burned, and ******
give my shadowed thoughts
a run for their money.

I know you know.
That you can’t say
what you have to.
And i can feel the thunder,
the magma, the gas
boiling inside the whites of your eyes.

I feel the lack
of a feeling i felt when
we were once
dancing on water.

But now we sink.
Deep, Deep, Deep.
Until we hit the bottom.

I feel profound.
Airy,
suffocating in optimism
without secreting a sound.

It's as if I wave from a flagpole
free from control
from even myself.

And the beautiful breeze,
brushes up against me peacefully
without disturbing a sparkle on me.

I feel solid in the most liquified way imaginable.
Yet I know, when the clock strikes twelve,
all life will be ****** out of me.

I am surrounded by red, beating walls
that cast violent shadows on my skin
and threaten bruises with each beat.

Inside, it is deafening.
I cannot hear myself breathe
though, these gory walls shrink my lungs
and throw me into a dark red sleep.

Oceans do not do justice
the depths my feelings reach for you.
Whether in admiration, or hatred.
they penetrate the deep corners of my mind
and linger.
Manipulating my once
rose colored glasses, that have now turned green.

The T shirt is grand.
A medium muted blue, with delicate speckles of gray—
and white accents.
Its dark red stains dress under my arm
to the side of my breast.
White paint smeared on the bottom right
unevenly.
It fits over my legs when i don’t want to exist.
It’s the costume for the time being
fit for a queen like me

The truth is very cold, freezing almost.
Especially once i mistook it
all in an amber hue,
a warm disposition.

Now I see it has always been iced.
dressed in a sad shine
deep cracks, and clouded sensitivities.

I blindly thought we were bursting
in a beautiful fire
dancing on the embers of longevity,
burning for eternities.

I thought the ashes could never catch up to us.
But we were never on fire.

Only I, in a hypothermic solitude
dreaming of a faraway, beautiful warmth
twisted passion:
as a means of an escape.