I am in love with fire. I want to cut the throats of kings. I want to drink dark red wine with strong-hearted women (if you sing to me/I will love you). No God or man would dare deny me. I am the master of my own  reality. I scream at the top of my lungs until my throat gives out. Men wish to be me and beg to hunt at my side. As for women though/a wise man would not boast to a rose. The fire burns within me and I fear no other than myself. Into dark nights I go singing and all evil I greet with a  laugh and a sharp knife.

So rough the goat will scratch, it cannot sleep.
So often goes the *** to the well that it breaks.
So long you heat iron, it will glow;
so heavily you hammer it, it shatters.
So good is the man as his praise;
so far he will go, and he's forgotten;
so bad he behaves, and he's despised.
So loud you cry Christmas, it comes.

So glib you talk, you end up in contradictions.
So good is your credit as the favors you got.
So much you promise that you will back out.
So doggedly you beg that your wish is granted;
so high climbs the price when you want a thing;
so much you want it that you pay the price;
so familiar it gets to you, you want it no more.
So loud you cry Christmas, it comes.

So, you love a dog.  Then feed it!
So long a song will run that people learn it.
So long you keep the fruit, it will rot.
So hot the struggle for a spot that it is won;
so cool you keep your act that your spirit freezes;
so hurriedly you act that you run into bad luck;
so tight you embrace that your catch slips away.
So loud you cry Christmas, it comes.

So you scoff and laugh, and the fun is gone.
So you crave and spend, and lose your shirt.
So candid you are, no blow can be too low.
So good as a gift should a promise be.
So, if you love God, you obey the Church.
So, when you give much, you borrow much.
So, shifting winds turn to storm.
So loud you cry Christmas, it comes.

Prince, so long as a fool persists, he grows wiser;
so, round the world he goes, but return he will,
so humbled and beaten back into servility.
So loud you cry Christmas, it is here.

My wick is underneath the surface
trying to catch the flame

as the wall between me and the air shrinks,
the light glows deep
the sun penetrates me
the sea holds me here,
breath in my pocket,

and you are behind my eyes



I swear, I swear that I'm beautiful.
This time when I open myself
a thousand singing birds will
fly from me full force
I will be metal.
and rain.
and sea.
and storm.
and calm.
mostly, I will fall with the flowers
and be skin colored.

I will not need a kiss to be awakened
but I'm looking forward to our paths crossing,
wanderer
Your eyes eat the broken meadows
and glaze over, snow-dusted, in the mountains.

I wonder if you feel beautiful in your skin
as I sit in the lamplight, covering mine
watching limbs of strangers and friends
and feeling insignificant,
yet too large for comfort,
too large to be looked at,
too large to be looked past,
please.
Inside this small talk, I am screaming
inside myself
pleading with the world for a chance to start over,
please
just a chance to be normal
just a chance to be beautiful
please,
I just want to be a person worth loving

My plea hits the front of my mouth,
I choke it down, let it coil and drop.
Leaden and heavy.

...

The night drags, laughter presses on my silent lips
Drunken song fills the air
and I'm weighted by my own sharpness

I hope tonight that the devil finds me in my sleep.
I need to think about things.