let it run down your spine like a shiver
and wrap round your wrists like rope
let it climb up your veins like vines
and fill up your throat till you choke.

are you waiting for someone to find you?
are you thinking of your other half?
does the want trip up your daily struggle
with dreams of a something that lasts?

then, let it tear up your heart like a lost lover
let it catapult you higher like hope
let it guide you along like road signs
let it wash your expectations like soap.

I am the quiet poet
I draw my silk from
            the writhing aurora borealis
                        in the frozen sky
            and twist its ethereal light into dripping ink
            still wet on the page
You think you know me?
            you don't know me.

I am the serene night sky
                        and the boiling hot stars
I am the tempestuous seas
                        and the playful shallow shores
I am the relentless scorching desert
            and the soft smooth tides of sand

I was a prodigy, a freak
            I came into this world
with a pen in my pudgy little fingers
and a notebook clutched to my chest
I watch
as diamond rings fall like rain
onto the fourth fingers of my peers
            imprisoning them
but my female ancestors slew dragons
            I am free
            I will always be free
                        no man can handle me anyway

I am a captivated student
            of the authors and poets before me
books are my haven, my lovers, my dreams, my life
I am not human
Arms open, eyes shut, head to the sky
            I am but a channel
for the flow of the universe.

Love is like a sea
It will refuse no river
That stands at its gate

No one can make me
Give this part of me for you
I do it by choice

I've spent my whole life
Building walls all around me
My shelter's a tomb

Between the divide
You just can't get agreement
In this time and age

It wasn't the end
I closed my eyes and waited
But death never came

Your lips are poison
But there is no antidote
To free me from bliss

Some call me a saint,
others call me a hellion,
but at some point revolution
must progress to rebellion.