If you catch me fishing for compliments or looking for a fight
I just need to know I'm adequate, that everything's alright
I'm anxiously insecure, I easily regret
Mistakes are always on my mind, too heavy to forget
I'm suspicious of the little things, a skeptic to the core
Small changes make me nervous, I feel generally unsure
I'll always keep on asking things when I already know
Because anything can happen, people come and people go
That's why I need your confidence each and every day
I just need some reassurance so that I can be okay

My eyes cover you
      With a warm rain
Of stares,
     The morning comes
Like a singing spiral,
      Your body of foliage
Opens like a meadow
    As you arise from bed.
The gilded light
    Sifts through your blouse
And your body burns
    Through the silhouette.
Coffee,
          The vertical hour awake,
Your laughter is everywhere,
      I take your hips of light
And make love at the cliff
     Of the day......

Annabel wore white
as she laid under a Willow
She brought her brown basket
and a comfortable red pillow

She laid in the shade,
writing and reminiscing.
Bringing forth a smile
for the one she was missing.

Her days had been growing longer
and she knew wasn't fearless.
Sitting under their Willow
writing to her dearest

She wrote about his charm
She wrote about his smile
She wrote about his laugh
She wrote about his style

She wrote until the Sun turned off the day
She wrote from her heart and all it couldn't say

Annabel finally stood, picked up her basket and started walking home.
Leaving all her notes and poems, upon his gravestone.

--but i have realized
that i live for the ash in your eyes,
the shadows i kiss from your collarbones
the unspoken flames that dance
                                     across your skin

igniting, consuming.
between the swirling dust
and your smoky eyelashes,
i breathe you,
choke on the embers and
love every moment of it.

Maybe it was fate in the threads of that
skirt as short as temper and temperance
that ended the ellipsis breathing.
A dancer needs an answer
on life enhancers, dear romancer.
Your smile was more than good enough.
I drank of it, the cup of Christ that turned
my blood into whining moments of
insecurity.
Call security, you say, making the call on
what I am because I am transparent,
transdimensional, traversing the bridge
of your nose with my high-risk eyes.
You say that I am, and they cry.
As your hands ticked at your clock-click keyboard,
I waited, passed the time wondering the
difference between naive and navel.
Harm came like rain in winter, the words
of Zephyrus slipping from between those
amber lips, lithe on naked fingertips.
You take the names of gods in vain,
into your veins, let them convert only
the white blood cells. You'd crucify
me for vanity.
You accuse the recluse of abuse,
and it suits you, tailored because
hatred sized you up the moment you met.
The orchestra disbanded, the buds of May
have yet to burst, yet to blossom like you
say you always will,
but the spring in your step when
you walk away from the last word
tells me more than the chirping birds
nesting in your hair.
You remind me of Paris
on the walls of Troy,
thief of hearts and fool indeed.
Bringer of fire, brander of hell,
but only because you were already the
Tartarus Employee of the Month and
enjoying Elysium.
This is the
beautiful mystery
undone as her clothes and
naked as the day Rosemary Matron gave her
to the world.
This is the beautiful mystery
returned to voids as tangled as her hair,
the nonspace between the curls hiding
secrets and conviction.
This is the beautiful mystery
concluded, all the movements of
her symphonic body no longer to allure.
This is the beautiful mystery
answered, the riddle of the Sphinx
leaping from the pillar, a killer
not quite so strong as her eyes.
This is the beautiful mystery
laid to rest, buried alive in a life discarded.
This is good-bye.

You can't see me, you can't love me or break me.
My face my fake essence and the fake smile I show you is not me.
What is me? Broken? Afraid? Am i to believe a God is there to make me happy? No God, no Angels, No Heaven. Shadows and darkness is what makes up this world.
My Mask hides mine, My mask is me.
You can't see me, you can't see me.
(Laughs and giggles)

You could say i have the heart of a miser, but you can't say I do not have one. For it beats in my chest, threatening to sweep this head off my neck with tsunamis of sickening blood. As if i had infinite emotions to gnaw at. My soul seem to be a bottomless pit, eternally craving to be fed. And I never knew how to satisfy it. I seem to be different from the others. Void of emotions. Speaking only to stir trouble, on the sorry excuse of giving myself reasons to feel. I had no clue about the inability to communicate with my mother. We hardly exchange words, and those that escape my tightly sown lips were only to spite her. But they were words from the very end of this bottomless pit, which all sums up to "I lost all I respect".

I've stated in the beginning, I have the heart of a miser; I have not forgotten the words she told me 30 odd days back. If elephants never forget, then I guess I have these ivory tusks made to cut like a hunter's spear on anything that's alive. Cut off anything that's okay. Turn everything that is okay into something that is not. Explosive cars and houses set ablaze are akin to fireworks; the only thing that seems to catch my eyes anymore. And the smoke that lingers smells like a house freshly painted; addictive. That is until they smother my skin. I can't help but cringe at the monster in the mirror. I wasn't like this. I don't know how I've come to this. I don't know why.

The words that mothers say are lessons taught to their children. So i suppose I've learnt that I am a ***** and that I'm better off dead. 30 odd days. Are you proud of me, Mum? I have not forgotten what you taught. Today you screamed. I would like to say the spit that landed on my skin burnt like acid. But truthfully, I don't feel a thing. You asked for the wrong that you've done. You screamed into my face, DO NOT CALL ME YOUR MOTHER. I AM NOT WORTHY, as yours contorted so much I could almost feel something. Mum, I'm not worthy to tell you what you've done wrong for I don't feel a tad sorry for what I turned us into. It was a mistake to give birth to me. I'm not even sure if I missed what we used to have. I can't remember what we had.

I'm sorry if this house ever burns to the ground.

Mum, I wish I wasn't a monster.

Are you awake
or are you still dreaming?
Is whats real,
really worth the feeling?
Cause it feels the same
as it did yesterday.
I get up out of bed
but I'm still asleep in my own head.
Dreaming of a place
far away from here.
Do you pretend
this just can't be real?
I feel so sick,
maybe just hungover.
Another day has gone by
and I have yet to stay sober.
Cause its the same old bills
and the same old job
and the same old guilt trips
from my dad and my mom.
It's the same old thing
that never goes your way.
I wish I'd have had the nerve
not to stay

Because I've never had a place to call my home.
Never had no one to call my own.
And it's the same three words everyone is begging you to say.
You dont have to tell me anything, I'll still love you anyway.