You make me want to become a better
Writer
Words no longer pertain to you
Adjectives have lost their hue
Verbs cannot capture the grace of your movements
And nouns mean nothing
My dictionary, my dear old friend, is thin
My floor, thick with the crossed out remains of its contents
The number of pages untorn compared to the number of pages on the floor equivalent to the ratio of vowels to consonants
Perhaps I jumped the gun
It is not the words who can’t compare but
Myself
You make me want to become a better
Person

i miss you when i am out of states
wishing i were the sewer grate that could catch the muck beneath your shoes because though i can enthuse you
i can't bring myself to accuse you
of the things my mind has made up
and maybe its the alcohol but i am enthralled by
the memory of you
worthy of poem as
fresh dew on
freshly packed snow
melting in the sun's tired rays

behind closed doors
i sit in nothing
but a pair of headphones
inhale magic smoke from my crystal
let her caress my lungs for
seven seconds before i
exhale her out the window
a shadow of what she once was
giving her life for my happiness
inevitably iridescent
i tiptoe to my bed and submerse myself beneath covers
letting the bass control the rhythm of my heart
because for once somethings giving it a start
i couldn't care any less if it killed me
i'm makeupless
void of vision
or senses in every sense of the word
i'm breathless and sleepless
i crave sweet release
but can't even form a thesis

i am god
i am the devil
i am the angel
and the demon
i am found
i am lost
i am positive
and i am unsure
i am sane
i am psychotic
i am normal
and i am insane
i am both all and none of these things
at any given moment all i can gaurentee is that
i am human

its mornings when the cold stings my nose
and the smoke fizzling off the end of my cigarette
burns my bloodshot eyes
that i can't see a thing out of because i just took my contacts out after passing out with them in that i remember
i am ******
and the world is still
just as frigid and grey as before
but it is early
and i will shut the world out in blackeness
bury myself beneath covers
and pray for blue skies once i open my eyes
but anything will be contrast against
the view of my inner eyelids

i want you in every way
internally
with a movment of hips
externally
strokes from fingertips
spiritually
our bodies but mere shells
enompassing souls that tap on chest cavities
i mistook it for my heart fluttering
i don't believe in love at first sight
but it was something
i fear it was
old souls reconnecting