i feel very extra sometimes…
    
    i feel very used sometimes…

            i feel like a dandelion when it wears its’ coat of fluff…
        
    people pick me up and admire then

******* away, forgetting about

me until i plant my seeds for the next bloom…

            more and more and more of me spread,
            
    too many places i am in now.

i’ve been blown too far, so i cannot
    
    find myself among the flowers.  i am just

            a **** that only people with childish innocence

    would bother gazing upon and

and i wish that i could just die.
    
                i feel very extra sometimes
                                and i wither with grief.

So many lines and laments
scribed in ink and feeling,
for the girl who is the ocean

but she is a swell and surge
too dauntless and wild,
for a lover whose bones crave the shore.

She craves the squalls and gusts,
and cast iron skies,
a worldly drift to sate the salt in her skin,
the deep pull of currents in her blood.

She is chaotic but not reckless,
she is fickle, but not feckless.
Love her boldly or not at all
her bones belong to the sea
but she will always return to the shore.

My Woman
the more
I try to understand,
the more
she fall into myth..
a tiredness in understanding
a clear confirmation
You never going to
hear the bell... that
you have understood her..

one: i love the sun and light and the smell of dewy grass. i've lost my taste for the dark.
two: my love for the darkness has turned into but a simple appreciation for i cannot love something where i know monsters lurk.
three: you are one of those lurking monsters.
four: i'd rather get high than hear you speak. the burn of the smoke as it chases and then caresses my lungs and the heavy exhale that follows is the only conversation i need because drug consumption is more important to me than my life being consumed by you.
five: i love myself now.
six: i do not need danger like i did when i was a juvenile. danger is an art i have never perfected.
seven: you never loved me.
eight: i learned long ago that the purple tulips you planted under my skin were not your way of saying i love you but they were instead your way of proving your dominance.
nine: i do not like being dominated.
five: i love myself now.
five: i love myself now.
five: i love myself now.
seven: you never loved me.
ten: you lurk in the shadows in my room. even though i do not want to be with you now you stay with me but that's not any different considering you never cared what i wanted.
five: i love myself now.

Raspberry tea at 2:18 A.M.
is a Band-Aid to my loneliness