I could be anywhere right now,
but I am not.

My mind is out there,
within the tree and walking hills.

I am not.

I'll pull, pull you close until you can't breathe
I'll watch you lose your mind trying to seize
I'll push, push you until you're lost with no means
Finding me only in your dreams
You caught a glimpse of my heart
Why, oh why have I gone this far?
You pulled, pulled me apart until
All that was left were my uncontrollable thoughts
You pushed, pushed me until I was gone
Leaving me only with memories that only haunt
Too scared to stop, too scared to let go
Running infinite circles
Planting daises along our broke road
There she waits with a rose in her hand
But the other around your neck
Surprised and relieved
Hers was all he'll ever be
I dug up our daises and gave them to her instead
"To you and your addicted lover"
And away she led

The finger that points
to the moon
is not the moon
"No **** Sherlock,
real ****** perceptive."
The Moon replied sarcastically

Dear Poets,
We are a wondering bunch of know it-
All's.
We breathe words and phrases
From our upright noses.
No one composes
A song that shows us
Or proposes
That we change the things we've chosen!
We love they way we live,
And we love the blood that pours from our fingertips
On to white paper.

What a hypocritical bunch are we,
Writing about death and life
As if we knew the answers to everything.

as I stared at my reflection,
the words "you're not good enough" clouded my mind
the person looking directly at me, was not me
it wasn't the person I wanted myself to be
I spent years and years trying to perfect myself in a way where I would be "good enough"
I let every insult slowly tear the very skin that made me human
I wanted to live up to the expectations my parents had,
only to be disappointed with innumerous failures set up along my path
but then I realized
after beating myself up day and night and
after i had no skin left to tear,
that humans weren't meant to be "good enough"
us humans were meant to be better
from then on,
I grew on skin so thick even words couldn't puncture it

it's sunday morning and you wake up early for him.

you sit in a building with a bunch of "good people" and you know they're good because they're in the same place you are.

you listen to a man or a woman speak your words for you except they aren't your words.

you come home and you sit on the couch and you read your little book full of what you say is the "truth" but you don't actually know.

you change the station because what's entering your ears isn't about him and in his eyes that's a sin.

you get angry when i call you religious because it's "not the right term."

you tell me i'll never be happy unless i introduce myself to a being that doesn't even exist.

you watch your youngest daughter do what makes her happy and you sigh in disappointment.

when will you learn?

Your body is beautiful architecture.
A painting on a canvas.
Every curve, so heavenly.
I ache.

I'm hearing these alien words that terrify me.
Terminal, seroconvert, infection, inconclusive, possibility.
They say stay strong, keep your chin up.
They don't understand just the possibility is enough.
Who wants a woman you can't take to bed?
Who wants to fear when I bled?
Alien words, alien feelings, foreign bodies inside and out of me.
But don't worry, they say.
It's controllable, a pill a day.
Pills. That's what they give me.
For the depression, the infection, the anxiety.
I feel as helpless as the child I will never bare.
"What the hell is going on" I blare.
Testing, testing, testing they say.
As I ***** to cope and my legs give way.
Fragility, infertility, susceptibility.
But don't worry, it's all just a possibility.