i am a little in love
mind you...
only a LITTLE
with a deaf boy...

he says things with his eyes
you wouldn't believe
and touches me
like you would never understand
i don't even
understand
he is so sweet

i have never liked boys
who don't hear me out
who don't listen to me
it is
mind-boggling

words are
overrated

sadness became more like a drug to her
her mind becoming
more and more clouded
with the darkness in her head
and her eyes
looking more lonesome
and desperate
every single day

she would hear the voices
and they told her to do it
they told her to stay this way
they told her she had a choice
eternal sadness
or eternal sleep

she liked the look of the pills
pink and blue and brown
and she liked sleeping a lot
and she found the little pieces of metal
so pretty
and shiny
and bright
            everything she wanted to be
but she didn't understand
what the voices had meant
for she was
far
too
tired
and she couldn't handle being so sad
and so she chose sleep

This brick.
This bulging pocket of blue jean.
This song player, noise maker, memory saver.
Eternal space.
Secret keeper.
It's my life, this brick.
You think you can touch it? have it? hold it?
Let my secrets run along your nerves and scurry in between your brain cells?
No.
I would rather die an ignominious death and
rot a thousand years in the sea than
watch your eyes scan my life.
Search the deep caverns of my soul.
Watch your heart scream and hear the echoes of blood curdling madness.
Your fingers would burn as
you caress the suggestive sentences.
back and forth and
it comes naturally.
Sad truths.
Depressing facts.
You'd rather pour acid on your
eyes
and have them turn to
dust
than read the conversations,
I swear.
The ability to chirp
and make it appear as if it came from my own mouth?
Ridiculous.
I do not believe in ventriloquism.
Weak images
your eyes cannot behold.
I would feel exposed.
Like "The Woman" bathed
in wool and cloth and silk.
And under memos?
The secret to how my brain works.
Why would I desire you to know the short cut
to my vulnerability?
The grey box to my wiring and the scalpel to my heart.
It's the way my soul thinks.
And you can't know that.
This brick, bulge, memory saver,
it's my secret keeper.
The fidelius charm cast over my own self.
The secret is kept within
the very soul of my secret keeper.
Giving the password up is worthy of death.
You will never hold its life on your hands.
You will never see my
soul.
You will never know my
heart.

fingertips
pulsating against my spine
you could see inside of me
into my mind
                               i swear
and i don't know how
but from the second we spoke
you knew me
and i knew you
and i fooled myself into thinking
that this was love
          the most debauched and broken kind that there is
hearts and souls
broken far beyond repair
and my mind
had been twisted
into something unruly
something that is convinced
it is no way worthy
of true love
only hatred and pain
and i was convinced that this was true
until now
until i found happiness
in you leaving
and discovered a new way
to live in harmony with nature
and all of her ways
to love oneself
before loving another
to smile at the way
the wind blows
and the trees whisper
and allow the moon
the stars
the sun and the plants
to lighten my way

only dead boys hold insects like they're something
special
only a dead boy would let a mantis in his heart and
preying was always a better descriptor
because hymns burned in my throat and
i scratched a cross into my palm but i was never lucky enough to scar
but
oh, dead boy
bug lover
enduring a thousand lashes to save the soul of a beetle  -
i'll help you peel off all your scabs to make sure they scar
thick tissue skin memory sometimes you think scars are the closest you'll get
to a wedding ring
you're a suicide king i think a kingdom of hearts was never the safest place for you i
don't think you understand the way your subjects' hearts are strung because
entomology entomos everything you love is cut to bits
and on the fourteenth of february you told me
the only purpose of a flower
was to hold
a spider
inside
and i guess that was why you painted all your walls with roses i
hope your garden  smells as sweet
covered in your misfortunes
only a dead boy would let
a praying mantis so close
to his neck
oh, you freak. disgusting.
i ate the last one that let me this close.
you told me {if i die
leave my body
in the forest
by
an anthill}
maybe you don't realize we were doomed from the start or maybe you're just naïve but
honey you're a dead boy and
corpses don't fall in love.
[you're so genuine it hurts and i think
i could teach you how to be a fake -
nobody likes an honest man
i could teach you how to hate the world but you said

{the only one
i hate here
is me}]

freakish child.
all you see in every rorschach is mantes and
decapitations and
wedding rings you are an aberration,
suicide king entomologist your throne room
was full of termites.
with hallowed cheeks and hollowed churches,
i will assure that you scar
dead boy, if you die
i will put maggots
in your chest

Yellow
Yellow is the colour of bananas when the're ripe.
Yellow is the sound of a bell ringing behind the door.
Yellow is the feeling of warmth when you're praised.
Yellow is the smell of sunflowers while you play.
Yellow is the taste of an ice lolly on a hot summer day.
Yellow is the colour of think cheddar cheese.
Yellow is the sound of any kind of music.
Yellow is the feeling after a great meal.
Yellow is the smell of buried treasure somewhere underneath.
Yellow is the taste of pineapples drowned in thick syrup.
Yellow is the colour of kids whizzing by.
Yellow is the sound of your friend laughing.
Yellow is the feeling you get when you're sleeping.
Yellow is the smell of the number 25.
Yellow is the taste of cookies waiting to be eaten.
And yellow is a colour that is vibrant and alive.

Birth
Will never be as
Glorious
As your
Existence

Wind
Will never be as
Soft
As your
Whisper

Music
Will never be as
Beautiful
as your
Voice

Flowers
Will never be as
Delicate
As your
Love

Chocolate
Will never be as
Sweet
As your
Kisses

My mothers words
Will never be as
Soothing
As your
Touch

Dragonflies
Will never be as
Jittery
As the
Butterflies
You give me

Blankets
Will never be as
Comforting
As your
embrace

Stars
Will never be as
Bright
As your
Eyes

The moon
Will never be as
full
As your
Lips

Death
Will never be as
Painful
As Missing you