December 7th
It is Monday morning, 3:12 am
I'm sitting on my window sill
Smoking a cigarette
Outside, the air is frigid and wind blows on my right cheek
I can hear music playing faintly at the Fountain Motel
And cars racing by
To God knows where at such an hour
And I wonder why I'm awake
What is it within me that has caused such a stir
That my body cannot find rest
Though my mind is eagerly looking for it
In and out of focus
My eyes are like a camera lens
One minute things are blurry and colors differ
And the next I am seeing more clearly than I feel I ever have before
And maybe it is all in my head
But I keep hearing noises
Like someone is walking on the dead leaves that scatter the sidewalks
Or a stray animal moving amongst the trees
Or perhaps an imaginary figure haunting me
My throat is dry and my hands are cold
My legs wrapped in a blanket
And endless ideas, theories, misconceptions are running around me
Circling me and I feel as if at any moment I will be attacked
Annihilated by my own mind
There are plenty of ways I have pictured myself dying
This, this is not one of them

It's beautiful isn't it
The literacy of other people
When you read it and you feel it
Every moment
Those words rolling off lips
You feel their pain, their love
It is stunning, I am addicted to your poetry
Giving me emotions, my heart beats in time with every stunning syllable
And now I can't get enough
Write more, I need it
It can just be our secret
That I am alive from your poetry
Keeping my heart beating

While on a beach, when she kissed me with the urgency of a sensitive poison, I could not help but scatter across the shore-lengths, the households of my heart, allowing room only for the remedy, I looked beyond her and forgot to make room for her smile, that went unnoticed fading as a shadow on my face.

Hell is full,
Heaven won't let me in.
Life won't accept me,
As something gets close by.
While death holds me tight,
As the cold wind blows though the night.

Here are two pupils
whose moons of black
transform to cripples
all who look:

each lovely lady
who peers inside
take on the body
of a toad.

Within these mirrors
the world inverts:
the fond admirer's
burning darts

turn back to injure
the thrusting hand
and inflame to danger
the scarlet wound.

I sought my image
in the scorching glass,
for what fire could damage
a witch's face?

So I stared in that furnace
where beauties char
but found radiant Venus
reflected there.

I've always connected my soul to materialistic things that can not hurt me back. I felt like as long as it doesn't feel..I'll be safer, see how afraid of emotion I was? I built fences to conserve my heart from any danger and distress. I saw how people would talk about love and desire like they are the most wonderful yet difficult things to go through in life.. I never truly believed and understood until I attached my soul to you. I never truly believed until you unleashed the most conserved ***** in my body.. my heart. Your voice slowly climbed up my lungs and knocked on my hearts door, Your voice was so calming my heart had to open all its gates for you. I admire your energy and I admire your presence, live as long as you want in my heart, It;s your home and most certainly made for you.

Souls that don't ache are always advising that we simply "open up more."
There's not a single band-aid on your body, how could you know what's it's like to fear love sores?
I do, so I cower in my shell, well my eyes shut, and slam, lock, blockade all doors.
But of course, it never really helps. New love sneaks in through the window cracks & the tears ooze their way out through my skin's pores.