I peeled back the mask and gazed into
the endless portals that made up my eyes
Dipping fingers into the pools of water
cheek bones
piano keys
teeth
self-discovery
The water rolls down my fingers
but I can’t seem to get it off my skin
It clings to me and stings
This water is holy and I am paper thin
A demon lies within
I whisper to myself
A reminder to hold myself at night
but not too tight
do not wake my sin
Crack me open
But gently
I will spill
A pool of galaxies
Infinity
And everything that makes up each and every one of you
Something deeper
Something beautiful

I've ******,
My friends make love

What about me
Attracts boys
Who only ****?

I've never made love.
Is it just bad luck?

What about me
Attracts boys
Who don't love?

I just want to have
A natural relationship
Not a business deal,
Where I'd use my body,
To buy love that isn't quite real.

Just someone care.
Just someone see.
I am not just a piece of meat.
I need warm arms around me,
And words so sweet.

Where are you
Boy,
Who can stand loving me?

Perfection.
I miss.
Whose name I trace on my lips with my finger tips.
Such sweet bliss.
Thats you.
My morning and my lovely moon.
But your absence is agony
And I fight to breathe,
But air that lacks your scent is not fresh.
Nights without your voice are just as good as deaf.
Wake me from this coma.
Save me from your silence.
Forgive what it seems like and see whats hidden in plain sight.
My love.
For you.
Is more infinite than the universe.
Hold my hand until we find its end.
Together.

We watch them sing from stages
laughing behind cupped hands
and they give us what we've always wanted
a single connection
We're driving fast
trying to stretch the moments
and save the tears
for later dates when we're all alone
to sink like weights in water
For now we'll sing songs we don't know the words of
and look at each other like we've been blind from the start
What is it with these shaking hands
every time I refuse to look back

out of the arm of one love
and into the arms of another
I have been saved from dying on the cross
by a lady who smokes ***
writes songs and stories
and is much kinder than the last,
much much kinder,
and the *** is just as good or better.
it isn't pleasant to be put on the cross and left there,
it is much more pleasant to forget a love which didn't
work
as all love
finally
doesn't work ...
it is much more pleasant to make love
along the shore in Del Mar
in room 42, and afterwards
sitting up in bed
drinking good wine, talking and touching
smoking
listening to the waves ...

I have died too many times
believing and waiting, waiting
in a room
staring at a cracked ceiling
wating for the phone, a letter, a knock, a sound ...
going wild inside
while she danced with strangers in nightclubs ...
out of the arms of one love
and into the arms of another
it's not pleasant to die on the cross,
it is much more pleasant to hear your name whispered in
the dark.