It's all nameless splendours
and 'return to sender's.
Without the clarity to make sense
and the rarity to be heard,
we are blurred together
like colors on the canvas.
Where I settle in and make my home,
it's insanity and ****** sea foam.
        Straight lines where everything careens
               into smokescreens and blackened eyes.
                       Cruelty in disguise.
                              Lonely demise.
                                Unheard cries
                                   Dark skies.
                                       Lies...
                                          It is here... I make my home.

In the centre floats the sun
bringing life and order to the planets
She is that girl
the popular girl that the world revolves around
She brings light and beauty
demanding attention
she is the comparison
to gold and all things perfect
she is inspiration to all the poetry
yet no ones seems to notice
her poison and deceit
her radiation leaking
destroying the world
as she burns consuming
everything in her path

Then there are the planets
those perfect orderly orbs
the unnamed crowd
following their pretty girl
as she orders them about
they follow her hierarchy
numbered better or worse
hoping not to be
at the bottom of the list
the nerds or misfits like pluto
are forgotten and unloved
as she demands attention
from everyone above

Id much rather be a moon
a shining mystery
a tiny forgot speck.
Floating about on my own path
never quite the same,
forgetting about popularity
and its unrelenting chain.
Seen as an evil
associated with black and monsters
yet i’d shine a light down
through the darkness.
You can see its painful craters
the scares of past time
and yet i’d keep on lighting
and moving alone just fine

Id much rather be a moon
free to be myself
I don’t need to be
the spotlight
I’m content with second place.
forgotten by the many
yet remembered by the few.
I don’t need to be the golden girl
Im fine to be silver
for silver moons are much better
than demanding golden sun

1401

To own a Susan of my own
Is of itself a Bliss—
Whatever Realm I forfeit, Lord,
Continue me in this!

we're all addicted to secret killers wether it be cigarettes you stole from your mothers purse or alcohol you found it the garage or that boy who swore would never leave you, maybe those anti depressants at the bottom of your backpack or the razor blades you hide between the pages of your books. but baby the cigarettes will burn away the boy will leave even after promising he wouldn't, and sooner or later we all find our way to the bottom of the bottle and my dear the only happiness that will never die away is the kind you give yourself.

When left alone
Late at night
The voices of my mind
Being my only
Lonely plight –

I oft wonder
Do I love you?
Is it a feeling
Imbedded deep within
My soul?

Or a lust?
To be your bed maiden
Your late night
Lure?

Is there a “we”?
A heart spoken
Us?

Or is all this
Just a “madness”
Coated in my lust?

I think that you're oblivious
clueless to life and reality
It's not really a bad thing
but I think that I am jealous

You stride through doors--
Confident, a simile high in place
but I can't seem to feel that way
and believe me I have tried

We are part of different lifestyles
born of different worlds
and I think yours is better
than this place I call my own

Mud beneath our feet
Stars above our head
Wearing nothing but rain slicked skin
And frosted breath
You
Cannot keep your hands off me
I
Cannot take my eyes off you
We
Are two planets
In rotation
And neither of us
Can defy gravity