I was a prince charming, my armour impenetrable.
A long line of defeated boys lay slain by my side.
I was untouchable, untouched. I was loved but I refused to love.

My mother died in front of my eyes, 22 years on she still treats me like a child.
She's still trying to make me into something better than anything I'll ever be.
That way she'd have something else to look at when she looked at me.
No longer would my father ghosts linger upon my features.

I built my self a fortress, a cold heart guarded by a switchblade tounge.
My army of lies made sure nobody got too close.
I used 'casual' to wage war against myself in beds all over town.

Don't turn off the light, my dear, I'm afraid of the dark.
Shadows that lurk, ghosts that walk by, cold voices speak with the breath of night.
Wrap your arms around me and I'll bathe in your light.
For dark or day, nothing can hurt me, encompassed in your warmth, I know you'll stay!

To me the rain means to stay.
Water brings nourishment and life.
So plant your seeds and stay.
Let the rain take you home!

Everyday without you feel like a waste of time...

"You are what you eat" they say it so often you would think they were just chewing with their mouths open. You happen to be so many other things than the diet you keep. I think "you are how much you sleep" would be an equally fair claim to your self identity. We regurgitate these talking points with such little consideration and worse we build our lives around these quotations because they are embossed over a scenic, awe-inspiring image on Instagram. These metaphors are so far removed from their original context that they could almost mean anything to anyone inside of their own head. Too often in juxtaposition to one another these contradictory ideas subside inside of you disguised as a rational point of view. Maybe you are what you eat or how much you sleep but do you ever wonder who's words become your thoughts?

My desperation is not discreet.
It sprays off my tongue every time we meet.
Like the octopus squirts ink to evade capture.
Inky I love you's flood from my mouth, a Tsunami of rapture.

Loving you is the ocean and desperation is decompression sickness.
Whenever I come up to breathe my head spins, nitrogen bubbles explode in place of butterflies.
Isolated on this lonely island, my clouded mind tears me asunder.
If I die a living death  you would be my beautiful, poetic blunder.