i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

Inside all of us there lies something to be discovered
and I think the spark you put at the bottom of my lungs might be enough
to remember mine
you are a fire and I am ash
brand new, I feel sorry for eventually suffocating you
I hate cities
I hate people
but I love persons
I would get on a train right now just to watch
people spill like water into the underground
seemingly searching for something within the tunnels
some simply a way out
others a way in
some just to sleep
I saw a man with an airport under his skin once
and a woman next to him with clouds brushing lips with her fingers
they were holding hands
and I swear I heard the boarding call faintly as they exited
I hope he remembers to breathe
sometimes it rains on the subway
and sometimes you can't keep the sun out
people are always rushing to some
unknown endpoint
I'll sit in the corner and ride the blue line until they kick me off
far enough away so they can't touch me
but I can touch them
sometimes I'll close my eyes
imagine that this train is taking me home
imagine going down a snowy hill at 80
looking next to me, there you are
so I put on the brakes
"I only want to **** myself, I don't want to **** you"
I'll open my eyes
and see the life around me

maybe
I can
stay just a little longer

Whatever you do,
don't ever ever ever
throw out a piece of paper.
One day you could
be cleaning out your room
and discover a sheet
covered in scribbles
and notes in the margins
and raw thoughts
that might even seem to come
from another you entirely.
But whatever the page says,
you'll see yourself in it
and be taken back to those feelings--
if they're good, they'll remind you
of times you felt happiest;
if they're bad,
you'll be able to look at them
with wisdom you didn't have then.

The eraser is not your friend.
It tricks you into thinking
that words you have dared
to get out on paper
might not have been good enough.
A really cool thing
about things you write
is that it isn't like real life:
any ending you don't like,
any aspect that isn't
exactly completely perfect right away
(and believe me,
not many aspects will be)
can always be returned to and rewritten
any time you want to change it.
But write your first drafts in pen,
because any thought you have
is going to be beautiful
because it is your own.

And finally, if you ever do need
to get rid of a piece of paper,
recycle it.
Cause the beautiful part
about recycling
is that it takes something
that you just werent able to use
and turns it into
something that could be
meaningful and beautiful
to somebody else.

I can't read contemporary poetry anymore
I always see the words
"love" and "fire"
strewn together somehow
and it seems like everyone is always connecting
the two
or dissecting
what it means

And I can't read this contemporary poetry
because it reminds me of you;
fire
always will,
for you were burned without a cause
and your life forever changed
and I hope you know
you changed mine

And even though I don't have the scars to prove it,
you
burned
me
too

So far down
and too far gone.
Higher than life on Drunken stupidity,
Hallucination versus Reality.

Just one more drag,
choke down another swig.
Borderline absent yet in full control,
only wanted a Midnight stroll.

One I Regretfully Took...

No turning back,
Unable to hit eject,
heading full-speed down a Disaster course;
YOU having no feeling of Remorse.

Denying MY lack of restraint,
unable to stop the Inevitable.
Smooth talker from the start'
unable to protect MY heart.

Where was my brain?

Curiosity got the best of YOU,
YOU took the best part of ME.
Force-Filled and Painful,
Never been more Fearful.

Took without will,
never to return again.
Left alone to Awake,
and feel the Heart Break.

Where the hell am I?

Driving home in a daze.
Unable to comprehend.
Washing away YOUR swear for an hour;
letting MY humility devour.

Broken never to be fixed,
Five therapist deep;
trying not to fade away,
but now I can finally say...

**YOU ***** ME

You're like orange juice and toothpaste
Flavours that are pleasant
Enjoyable even, each in their own moment
But then they're colliding
Like the faces of your personality
Rushed mornings, teeth first and juice second
Conversations with you
An intolerable taste
Ruining both moments, all moments
I'm pretty sure I dislike you