Pain and sorrow often hold either side of the hands of death. But sometimes death can be a beautiful thing; it liberates one from the pain and sorrow that often hold the hands of life.
The sound of oxygen waves, crashing through the thin plastic cannula, it's high tide on the beaches of her lungs. Her lungs are slowly being swallowed by the volume of the sea, her eyes heavy from the weight of the world.
I hold her in my arms and whisper softly, "what are you thinking about?"
She said the Ocean.
Because that's her favorite place to be.
-I prayed to God this morning. I asked him to let her be one with the Ocean. Let her soul swim free across the vastness of the sea.
I suggested that He send the most breathtaking sailboat he has ever created
So she wont lose her breath when she first sets sail across the waves of Heaven
Realizing they stretch out for infinity
Realizing
It's all for her to conquer.

It is
Whatever you want it to be.
How you perceive is your perception,
Your perspective is not deception
-But why are we so reluctant to make use of affection?
The detection of attraction exhibits bits of satisfaction
That neither of us can speak of.
If push comes to shove,
Don't make me make you fall in love.
If I can't have your body
I don't want no body.
Celibacy.
It will be a delicacy to insituate the thoughts that insituate your time
I'll obituate your loss
And re-birth worth in your mind-
The situation
Is a mind **** manipulation.
I will eliminate the
No
And inseminate the
Yes
Undressed across your expression
The progression
Of *******
The contents of your mind until you bare a confessional corruption
For when mutuality is in play;
Manipulation is just seduction.

Your skin
On
My skin.
The luminosity of curiosity twinkling within.
When you touch me,
Do you feel me?
You could heal me
Of
My sins.
An
Angel
-from every angle-
Are you able
To shed skin?
I will shed you
Of the evils
You harbor within.
I will harbor
Your
Sins
I will harbor the DNA you shed on my skin,
I will anchor on the harbors of your depths deep within
-you could heal me.
Tell me again;
When you touch me,
Do you feel me?

the heart aches
like
earthquakes.

today
i allowed myself to feel
heartbreak
one very last time for you.

the sun was settling,
silhouetting the city

it felt like
the burial site of massacred dreams.

Sprawled out across his back.
Contouring the bean bag chair into something shapely beautiful.
Knees expelled in opposite directions,
Expelling my imagination into a furious sea of frenzy.
Silence.
Except for the constant clicking of the video-game controller.
The constant flicking of his fingers soon lead my imagination
Elsewhere.
The traffic-jam of words inside of me soon slip uncontrollably to thoughts
As I sit behind him.
My heat undecoded.
Legs crossed, just as a lady should.
Girls from all over must tell him he's beautiful.
But beauty in itself is a limitation.
I'm not sure if he is aware that he is beyond
The liberal definition.
I find myself soon forgetting the awkward of the situation,
Instead savoring the surreal reality of such a moment.
"Are you winning?" I shortly ask him, breaking the heavy incredible silence.
But I had to know.
He can miss as many goals as he likes. Laugh it off.
Because inside of me he's scoring.