Do not fall in love with the girl who writes
Unless you want to know hell first hand
She'll make you burn and bring you to ashes
And the worst part is
You won't mind burning at all

She's allergic to routine
Impossible to decipher
Something she takes as a compliment
She's June mornings and December nights
A rare mixture of sins and innocence
And impossible in every possible way

She's the type of girl you'll never forget
And you wont even want to
It'll be a roller coaster
You'll have sunny days laying on the beach
And others were the sea will drown you
You'll feel invincible
As if you have it all
Because you have her

Until she leaves
Without saying why
Or even goodbye
Her departure is something you'll never get over
Her smile will haunt you every day
You'll wake up from nightmares from the day she left
Screaming her name at 4 am
With the echo of her loss
Still resonating through your bedroom walls

*But you'll still believe they are dreams

It doesn’t sadden me to leave,
but to be left.
It saddens me to leave
to go home.

It saddens me
when the world is moving, living,
and I am longing.

It saddens me
that there is a world
that I have never known and never will.

Because I am here.

When the world is moving, living,
and I am longing,

when there are spheres
that I have never known
because I am here.

Because I have always been here--
held down by the tame and familiar,

expelled by that which is unfamiliar,
and yet unknown.

Indeed the forces which beckon me bind me still
and I am here.

I am here.

Still here
still longing
still waiting, wishing,
wanting

for when my chains will wither
and my world will be wielded
instead by will and conviction
to one day hear.

space between good friends:
always much too far apart--
heart pulled many ways.

3am is for the fearless.
The ones who aren’t intimidated--
by life;
by silence;
by darkness;
by love;
by loneliness.

3am is when the soul relishes in its blackest pitch
and learns to illuminate.

3am isn’t an hour.
It is a lifestyle.