Today marks twenty.
There are knots in my stomach
at the thought of possibilities
and mending; but one day--
one day I'll leave.

It always feels like clean blank paper
with spaces waiting to be filled with anything but water;
I write this poem with clamor
for a world I have yet to see further.

Because today I am twenty.
*******.

When the hour turns twelve,
I turn as the nightmares start to dwell.
    It is the only time I accept
that I create these horrors by myself.

Caution is something right man repeats;
(just as the doors all open
the rooms turn and shift
   and the dead starts to speak)

Left man is firm, ethical by all means;
'There are boundaries to humanity'
I betray them all in here
consumed by vibrant insanity.

'I feel like God' I admit.
My hands dipped clean
My tongue so gentle,
  as the phantoms
       all scream.

  Left and right are silent
when the basement door rattles
A den of demon and monsters,
waiting for me to unravel.

'Sometimes we tame monsters
like lions in a den'
Left man resists,
"These are not animals
     meant
           to
              be
                  free."

Right man says none.
His head hung and his eyes calculating,
(because he knows that)

Sometimes I create the monsters,
And in the end

                         They're all me.

She parts like the sea
When she is underneath me;
These salty skin and heaving winds
Compare no depth to when she is with me.

She clings on to me like I do to her
Storm swept lovers longing for the coast
Of the joys of home and the warmth of summer;
When all this that I could remember:

My name on her lips.
Her eyes when I kiss
Her senselessly; her smile,
Her hands, the way her fingers dance
Against my skin;

I am bursting
With vibrant passion
When she finds me again.
The parting of the sea:
Where she parts and I breathe
Alone and never has been,
But she has always

always drowned me.