To focus on the life
that existed
And not the passing
How does one do this
While keeping sanity
For I believe I must remove
My mind from behind my eyes
To not think that tomorrow
I cannot reach out to you
And touch your flesh

Falling asleep, I start to imagine  
The garage apartment, and  
The couch cushions spread on the floor.  
You standing over me,  
Adoring me with your eyes  
As mine wake to you—  
Your face, your smile, your love—  
And the contradicting words,  
"You look like ****."

---

Miss you Andy...
   Miss you like crazy.

Rest in peace my love.

Dating & Relationships are Complete Madness.

where do you draw the line between clingy and genuine desire

of course I desire Your presence

if I didn’t then you wouldn’t have My time

does that make me clingy?

I believe If a man Wants a woman

the woman does not need to ever Ask

or suggest

or sit back and Wonder quietly

in fear of being “clingy” upon muttering

the words “I miss you”

"hello:

"how was your day"

or

”:)”

does “:)” even say too much

my god why isn’t there a way to read the mind

i feel like i’m regurgitating my own words

and thoughts of words

the way they come to me so easily and

then fester in my stomach tickling

the back of my tongue

pressing on my lips

they nearly spill

and just before they do

i swallow them right back up

and say nothing

leaving you hungry

in the same way

i am hungry for you

I need to see more, love more, hate more,
Be broken more, have my soul ripped out,
And then ripped from wherever it was tossed to,
I need to mourn, and become tired,
I need to shine and outshine until the light is blinding.

I need to explore and feel and think,
And breathe just a little deeper,
A little more effortlessly, a little more passion-driven,
And full-blooded, I need to be more headstrong and wild,
I need to be old and young and all the in-between.

I need to live and die and be reborn,
And read, read everything front to back,
And cover to cover, in every language,
In every color, I need to listen and absorb,
Until life and death are all in one.

Until my ears bleed and my bones are brittle,
Until my cvnt is worn and my heart torn,
And sewn so many times it’s a solid rock of scars,
I need to be everything good, bad, beautiful,
Devilish and pure… so I can be a better writer.

I may be silent
but my heart will
deafen you