i want the feeling
the press and the weight and the grip and the fingernails;
the hair and the burn, the neck and the throat;
the gaze and the tears, the lips, the mouth, the spit
the tongue and the teeth (the fangs
and the bite);
the kiss and the lick, the grinding, the pushing and the
circles of the hips,
the fat of the thighs and the brush of the ankles;
i want the liquid and the hard, the sticky and the sore,
the pain and the sting and the ecstasy of the pleasure;
i want the eye rolls and the sighs and
the gasps and the moans and the screams and the whispers;
i want the banging of the bones and the rubbing of the skin,
the crashing of the waves, the rumble of the storm and the
hissing of the breeze.
i want to meld the two of us together until we become a thousand,
and to never cease sipping on this wine of heedless madness
that we blindly drown in.

Run away with me for a
day. Let's go to a place
that's surrounded by
mountains and a lot of
green forest trees. A place
where the flowers will sigh
and blush when they see
us kiss and touch. A place
where we'll get to be the
normal us. Away from the
public away from the law.
Away from those with judging
eyes and the haters dressed
in disguise. Let's run away
so far away. Where we could
kiss and hug. And talk about
our dreams with passion to
one another. A place where
I could scream the words of
I love you out loud while I
feel so confident and proud.
A place where you'll take my
hand and count to three. Lean forward and ****** a kiss
from me. A place where we'll
make a little bonfire and
have some coffee and tea.
Stare for hours at the blue
skies. Watch the dandelion
seeds and pollen grains float
away up high. Wait for the
stars to come out at night.
Where we'll be the only
audience waiting to watch
the show they'll pull on. The
only lovers up late in the
open wild. The only ones
who'll appreciate the light
they'll radiate in the dead
of night as they'll shine
bright in the dark
skies* ~

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

You must begin early
while it is cool and your head clear
discernment, a sharpened tine
probing the rocky darkness
for all things latent and destructive.

Be aware that the velvet sage
of the leaves belies their power
to take over every space, remember
roots burrow deep, anchoring in
fissures we don’t even know exist.

You must delve as close
to the origin as possible
or the **** you think eradicated
will bide its time, germinating
in the still secret ground

waiting for light
to penetrate the moist earth
waking the sprout
who voraciously pushes up and out
a curled blemish

in your otherwise carefully tended garden.

i grew up being told things that made me feel like a diamond in a pile of gravel, but now i'm laying shattered on my bathroom floor and i didn't think diamonds were supposed to break.

If you could read between the lines
you'd understand the language
of the red ones
all over my body
If you could see beyond your sight
you'd understand why
underneath my eyelids
the blues are permanent
If you could swim
and if I knew
(for sure)
that you would be
safe & sound
while diving & sinking
into the sea of my sorrow
still, I wouldn't let you drown
inside my head
because once I fell in there
and never came back.