Touch me.
I won't shatter,
I won't explode.

Run your fingers through my hair.
I'm not brittle,
I won't break.

Hold me close,
Ignore the tears,
Just hold me.

It's been so long,
Since I've been touched.
So long since I've been loved.
Touch me,
Hold me,
Run your fingers through my hair.

I won't shatter,
I'm not brittle,
Just hold me.

Can I show you how beautiful you are? Can I take out the old photo albums and push my index finger into the faces, the places, and seas? I want to peel back the plastic and remove the square photographs from their sticky setting. I'm alluding to ideas that exist more formidably on the internet- there are no paper photographs, no sticky settings, there aren't even faces in the numbers; it's only ever been you or me.

Some of my things are crooked. The strings don't work, the wires are twisted and make the sounds all come out funny. There's a strange buzzing everywhere, it's like Mickey's gray cloud, a cloud Koopa throwing spiked shells from Park Avenue beach to Montrose street. Everything is quiet, consuming, unassuming and still recalcitrant. I'm showing nothing to nobody. Coaxing storm systems and netting foul play and ***** tricks, with my pants around my ankles or my fly unzipped.

I'm stinking of this stuff. These sudorific crevices on the insides of my thighs. I'm more or less always pacing. Rocking. Rolling. Small room I'm living room, cadavers I stuff my skinny fingers inside of- cold, wet hollow places I'm seeking skin covered gods in. I'm craving tastes and flavors. I'm looking at these pictures of me, of my face and the clothes I wore, the people that knew me. Where have I disappeared to? Every place that I went, every condition of my humanness has gone. Five minutes past my certainty, squirting hot molten magma from my ****, my lips, and my fingertips. Hysterical thoughts and homily. I want just a hello. I want just a hello.

There is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.
people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.
people just are not good to each other
one on one.
the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.
we are afraid.
our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-*** winners.
it hasn't told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.
or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone
untouched
unspoken to
watering a plant.

-Charles Bukowski

Once, you told me I was your sun.
Once, we spent the sleepless nights that were stolen by our pasts borrowing time
Time to talk, time to cry, time to dream
All through the pinprick holes of a cracked screen phone that let me feel your voice and hear your heart
It was in those forums that we lay everything bare
Naked and unashamed, we approached one another in honesty and vulnerability fearing no judgement
Intertwined by the secrets that kept us together and pushed all those others away
Together we dredged through our dreams, no, not dreams, for dreams are bright and filled with joy and curiosity rather nightmares, for nightmares creep in the shadows of the night and display the worst of our subconscious  no, not nightmares, for even they evade you in the day. These were demons. Demons that did not leave you or I, Demons that followed us through the day and through the night haunting and menacing. A constant reminder of our imperfections
Yes, demons that is what they were.
Together we dredged through the demons that filled us.
And together we waged a battle.
A battle neither fearless nor brave but merely a battle to survive
And it was in those moments that You called me the sun in your darkness
But If I were your sun, the reason you breathed and lived. The source of your strength and your joy Then you were my moon
Reflecting, the strength which I bathed you in to get me through the darkest of times. To keep me resilient when my Pandora’s box dared to open dared to bring out the evils I kept so neatly tucked beneath the surface. Standing beside me when it did.
But I am not your sun
The sun does not forget to shine
The sun does not disappear or fade away
The sun is constant, day by day, always and forever.
The moon
The moon waxes and wanes.
It is half, it is whole, it is nothing
Covered in the strength of the sun, even at its strongest, it reflects a mere dim glow to that of its counterpart
So you see, you are wrong, I am not the sun, I am not your sun
You kept my darkness at bay and in your darkest night; I was but a faint globe of light
Two celestial bodies forever entangled in time and space, we are eternally connected
Yet now we find ourselves in an eclipse
With Iong shadows that have created a seemingly cavernous distance between you and I
Shadows that have left me dark and cold
For what is a life without the sun other than lifeless

Here I am again
Content with loneliness
Writing riddles to keep track of time
Detaching myself from the reality of emotions
Pretending
Deep down I know love does not conquer all
I'm naive but I can keep a strait face
Too many arguments of nonsense and jealousy
So I keep everything at a distance
Such a wreck
In a tangled weave of misdirection
I panic at the thought of love
It's for children
It's for hope
It's for co dependancy
But not for me
I'm contenet with lonliness

Imagine if a child is ignored every time fae speaks and is never allowed to finish a thought.
When fae shows faers true self to the world and then is told that fae is wrong.
When nothing fae says-when fae is finally allowed to speak-seems to be right do you really think fae will be inclined to speak?

When that child is taken from the only home fae knew and is brought to a new family-only to find this "mother" doesn't truly love them.
When fae finds out that living there brings this "mother" money.
When fae is taken from that home and placed in a new, when knowing that faers mom doesn't know how to take care of faer and daddy is gone, knowing fae is there as a last resort....knowing that her presence in this house is a burden on this new family.
Believing fae is unwanted and unloved, do you really think this child really knows how to express faers emotions?
Would you be surprised if fae closed faeself off, lost all desires, refused to let faeself appear needy or moody so that no one would think faer a burden?
Scared of being hurt, terrified of being abandoned. So all fae does is smile-even if inside faer's dying.

Now imagine if this child only ever saw faer parents fight-only ever heard them screaming...never truly saw love in any of faers homes. Do you think fae will really know love?
If fae only saw problems solved by violence then saw this violence hurt people.
When fae had no real teacher, with no one to guide her-learning only from disjointed experiences.
Imagine the world moves so fast around faer and fae can't change a thing, things passing by before the child has a chance to understand-leaving the child bumbling through life.
Just trying to get by.
Now this child, shaped by faer environment, not knowing anything else, is suddenly asked to change.
Fae is trying to change because faer nature tells faer fae must change to keep the Asker close, but it isn't that easy.

When old habits die hard and the child is pulled between two entities, arms sore and emotionally tired.
When the child has yet to catch up to faer peers and still has a lot of learning to do.
Hoping that the Asker will understand that fae has yet to find faer path.

When the child is still wandering, unchanging, pathless and the Asker is impatient, waiting, pushing.

The Asker never understood and couldn't wait for the child to find faer path.

When the child never changed and couldn't provide answers for the Asker.

The Asker asked one more question and decided to ask no more.

The child watched as the Asker walked away.

The asker and the child were both hurt, each their own pain. What hurt the Asker was that they believed the child didn't try.
Imagine the pain that plagued the child
                                                           ­         the Askers last words.    
The  Asker wanted to cure the child's habits like they were a disease or fix faer like fae was broken. Now the asker is gone-bringing us back to the beginning.

The child is left alone again confirming faer own fears.
That in the end, they will all leave-all but faer thoughts.
Now the child has yet to find a place to call home, someone to go to for comfort.
Can you entirely blame faer for how fae turned out?
Are you surprised that this child has become like this considering faer upbringing?

If this child smiles to get you to stay,
will you believe fae is truly happy,
or will you know that faer heart is breaking 
and fae feels like faers dying?

Would you realize
                               that behind faer smile,
                                                          ­           fae is really
                                                                ­                         crying?