Are human beings programmed to stay?
"Beginning to end"
could be programmed into a person's make-up but
disregard of human design is detrimental to
everyone around that human.
For everyone involved,
getting hurt is inevitable.
Help is not on its way,
instead you are left to fend for yourself.
Just waking up could become impossible,
killing yourself slowly through
love or cigarettes or
more drugs and alcohol than the city could handle.
Nothing could ever
open up the world of
pain better than
quarreling with your own demons.
Reaching out for a hand that
stops reaching for yours
teaches self-harm better than
underdeveloped scars ever could.
Veins are paint trays begging to be opened,
watered down with the
x-ray's of splintered bones from the first hit.
Your pain is inevitable,
zipping with the force of unrequited love.

She had red lips like cherries and blood and wine
Pink cheeks like berries picked fresh from the vine
Skin like porcelain, white as milk
But smooth like velvet or cashmere or silk
Her hair was soft and blew in the breeze
She moved like a dancer with grace and with ease
With the allure of a siren and the body of a model
But the unadulterated mystery of a genie in a bottle
Her eyes were a color the rainbow can't define
She was perfect and amazing but she'd never be mine

I'm sorry you can't see the beauty in things
because while adults can't have fun anymore
some of them can still see the significance
and observe with a distant haze
but you have cut yourself off completely
to forget all of it
"don't glorify!"
what do you mean, don't glorify?
the whole world is glorious! it is all worth
glorifying!
It is better than you think it is
and it hurts me to see you like this
but I can't help you out if you
think that everything I live for is broken
and the very premise of love is false.
But you don't understand what I'm saying, even
you think I am a prideful naive young fool
and I think you're a selfish old ******* who wants
to crush my angels' wings
and please yourself because the 'self' is above all
when I know that your 'self'
is rotting and yet-
still worth loving.
God loves you.
I love you.
And if you refuse to understand what that means-
that is your own fault.

She came in, guns loaded, with bullets of red lipstick
Cigarette smoke rings like vows
Her heels were high but her head was held higher
As everyone else bowed.
Her nails were polished, she was too
Her teeth were pearly and white
Her legs were long and her arms were strong
And her hands were clenched in fists, tight.
She stomped on crowds of angry men
That told her girls ain't tough
Her high heels pierced the skin beneath her feet
As she told 'em enough was enough
She came in, guns blazing, with bullets of red lipstick
While them boys had shields and swords
The world put her down for her feminine body
So she took her just rewards.

they told me I couldn't love you
not in the way one would expect
but from snide comments and laughter
the cruely of homophobic friends
not bad people, just confused about what's right

but all I wanted to do was hold you tight
and feel the echo of your bones as we stayed up all night again
in our rightful place together
I never thought it'd be them,
with their judgemental jokes and comments
I thought they would come to their senses
wouldn't they? They're my friends after all
they're not bad people
just confused and with their confusion
the words they produce burn souls and snap bones
they crush dreams and shove people into the dark

it's from the people I know best
the guardians of my own heart
and the keepers of every breath I breathe

but how can they guard and keep my breath
if they can't save my love?
All I need is you, to hold me tight
until my bones break and my tears
are full of blood and happiness

we can guard eachother's breaths until they
slowly run out floating into the lost souls eyes
and staying there forever,
while we lay there with our faces upwards,
a river of our love,
a river that runs red late into the night

"That seems so very far away," you said.
And it is; we have both time and distance pushing us apart.
But they say that time is a river,
and all rivers must find a larger body of water to pour into,
like an ocean,
the one that stands between us, the stagnant blood
inside our bodies.
You said you will hibernate until I wake you, or even better,
until I lie next to you and your eyes open to the rise and fall of my chest.

Let us sleep away these long months,
let us close ourselves to autumn, so it will seem as though we had been together
the whole time, and are finding one another in those foggy morning hazes,
while the rain falls softly against the glass of your windows,
and the house is silent with the sleep of others.

We will pull on our wool sweaters and scarves and
walk along the river, hand in hand, laughing
at the pain we create when we are apart.

love is a lot like the flame of a candle. i know it’s terribly cliche, but stay with me. once lit, love dances wildly and unabashedly, illuminating even the darkest of corners. it brings warmth to the places where warmth seemed impossible. it bathes everything in a new light and gives the world a whole new glow.

but, expose it to even the smallest outside force, and it’s out, leaving you with nothing but smoke and the strong scent of what used to be.

that’s how we are, you and me. just watching the smoke curl into the blackness. every now and then, though, our candle is re-lit and our flame dances wildly and passionately, the way it did in the beginning, giving light to corners we’d forgotten about.

and then, out of nowhere……whoooosh. the most subtle breeze blows through.





it’s out.

It's better now it is today but let me say that yesterday was better too,tomorrow which is yesterday today or tomorrow yesterday, I'll look back kindly and will say the future's looking bright and gay.
I get tongue tied when I'm tired and this nonsense which is fired out has got nothing to do with what my life's all about,
which is a roundabout way for me to say,
it's better now it is today.

There is something about crying in the shower.
It soothes my crouching body in warm drops.
Erases my anxiety, makes me connected
To something.
I cant do that with people anymore.
Connect, you know?
****, when you've gone through so many close friends?
You kind of get used to being ready to move on.
Immediately.
My smiles, my made up face, are friendly.
Inside I feel the defense come up that keeps me
From feeling close.
And it feels safe, you know?
That disconnect.
It's just second-nature to me now.

You were as stealthy as a slow gas leak, by the time i knew i was in love with you, i had succumbed to you. You were in the drivers seat of my car lighting a cigarette with the windows up so i could breathe you in. I quit smoking so your secondhand smoke was all you would allow. I watched as you brought the cigarette to your lips and dragged in as if your life depended on it. It was your third one today and i told you that you should stop, maybe breathe me in for a second. Do you know what i would give to become second hand smoke from your lips? All you would have to do is kiss me and i would vanish into thin air, become a noble gas in the periodic table but there is nothing noble about the element of disappearance. I have been shrinking away from you ever since you held my hand in that convenience store a year ago. I'm trying to convince myself to get over you because all i am to you is someone to **** slowly through your second hand smoke. I never knew I could get so addicted to nicotine until it came from under your tongue. When you're gone, it's hard for me to breathe which doesnt make sense because when youre here my lungs are filled with your sweet black tar. But you will be gone for months when you leave in two weeks. You said you'd write to me, but written words can't carry your second hand smoke. You can't build a home out of a human being, but that doesn't mean i cant find a home in your bed.