Not a word has been spoken since that night.
The night where words ran wild, and no one saw the light.


                                         My heart is breaking from the people who leave.
                                             My heart was stolen by night's terrible thieve.


                          The secrets and lies that people deny.
                          The heart and pain that is dying in time.


The blood that is streaking across the skin.
The razor can't stop digging in.
                    
                                           ­             Words of hate leave ink on your bones.
                                                        Wa­nting no more to pick up the stones.


                   I wait for death to take me home.

I woke up this morning and
all my thoughts
vibrated and repeated and spun.
And an alien had pushed wire into the
center
of my
brain and was stabbing
harder.
And I tried not to panic
And I tried not to think
I remembered how you would get angry
It was just another sign of my craziness, right?
Well, guess what?
This morning, I dealt with it. No panic attack.
By myself

if I should sleep with a lady called death
get another man with firmer lips
to take your new mouth in his teeth
(hips pumping pleasure into hips).

Seeing how the limp huddling string
of your smile over his body squirms
kissingly, I will bring you  every spring
handfuls of little normal worms.

Dress deftly your flesh in stupid stuffs,
phrase the immense weapon of your hair.
Understanding why his eye laughs,
I will bring you every year

something which is worth the whole,
an inch of nothing for your soul.

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

I'm afraid to stand out
And be different.
What if I look odd?
What if I'm judged?

I'm afraid of using big words,
Even though they sound beautiful.
What if I use it wrongly?
I'll be thought of as a fool.

Most of all,
I'm afraid
Of telling you
That I love you
Everyday.

It's meant to be a cute,
Sweet gesture.
A way of
Reminding you
You're the best thing
In my life.

But what if
It slowly becomes a mere routine for me?

Worse still,
What if
One day
Your reply is,
"I don't, anymore."?

I feel like I am living in a shell.
The words "you don't belong here"
are constantly being echoed back
by my limits.
Things that seem to go natural
with everyone around me
are a lot harder in this shell.
With every inhale of life I take
comes an exhale of desperation to live
and not knowing how to.
It deceived me into thinking
it kept me safe but all this time
it has been what was holding me back.
I see that now
but the words keep echoing in my head
youdontbelonghereyoudontbelonghereyoudontbelonghere

Break­ing out of my shell was never an option
I can not survive without it.
But I do want to leave it
and everyone
and everything
I do want to leave.

I wrote

'the waves adorned your feet
in silent hushes'.

I wrote and I never
said. When you needed it,
when you cried for it,
I never said. I wrote.

In your loft,
our joint belongings
swelled my throat
and I didn't say.

But I saw you looking.

Your feet descended first -
from the attic, from the attic,
your feet looked the same.

I couldn't say,
So I wrote this.