I'm sixteen
I still can't exactly swing on a swing without being scared
I suppose it's a metaphor for life
To have fear of such a childish contraption
I'm afraid of the motion
I'm scared of falling off
But I'm not scared of falling into you
I will do it over and over and over again
I will collide
I don't fear it
I don't fear you and I
I was swinging yesterday
My stomach felt awful
I told myself to stare at something
To get lost in the thought of you
Concentrate on what I was doing
It was nice to drown in something for once
To not hate the feel of not being able to breathe when I thought of something
Maybe because it was not something dark, it was you
I drowned in your magnificence
I probably looked like an idiot sitting in a swing, smiling like a giant goofball
But I didn't really care in that moment
Because even though you were not there in person
I held you in my heart
My mind
My smile
Nostalgic settled upon my bare shoulders
Like the last rays of sunshine
A profound hush smothered my neighborhood  
I never had a swing set when I was a kid
But ironically now that I'm sixteen there is a swing set
In my backyard a couple years too late
Another life metaphor
Sometimes the best language is the unspoken kind
But I'm here screaming out with every word
That I love your everything in the loudest voice I can
The miles between us might muffle my voice
I just hope you can feel my heart beating as loud as a locomotive train

I've been boxing with the pain for the past couple days and nights. I'm so scared, so scared of letting it win. I don't ever want to experience darkness to that depth again. I never fathomed the immensity of my fear until I awoke with its vice grip around my throat, making my vision blur with dots. I don't want to go back, I don't want to go back, I don't want to go back. The future seems to be a looming monster that feeds off of broken hopes and dreams because it's truly only the past. If time is a flat circle and it just keeps going in loops it's not present, there is no now. Now can't exist because as soon as now is now it's the past and it's gone. Then again maybe it's not because of the one uncountable instant that now seemingly happens and is the present. What exactly do I fear? Is it really the depth of darkness I fell into or do I fear the fear of it because that means I had no control over something in my mind? Do I fear the fact of my self absorption that leads me to admit that I'm powerless against the mechanics and systematic happenings of happening? Why am I so desperate to control the trajectory of my future? Because I know I'm powerless against the will of happening. I'm so desperate to control the uncontrolled and to prove what? To prove what? That I succeeded in bending the trajectory of something I shouldn't have? To prove that I have power? It doesn't work that way yet I will still sit in my stupid box pretending to be afraid of the darkness of which I evolved from, the darkness that I'm a product of. I will sit with a blindfold across my eyes with the stupid idea that my future is something to be controlled by sheer force of will.  Why am I so human? I guess I should say I'm fond of paradoxes.

Trusting steady for flower petals floating on moonlit beams.
Fractured cracks running into sewn seams of honey-colored threads.

Layering sunlight of emotions,
Rip-tide oceans hold your boulder heart open.
Velvety warm blankets shimmering with lavender energy,
Of a silence unspoken.

A roar within of a constant fiery flame.
A warrior armored with stars and an army of willowy trees.

Song buds upon lip, striking a symphonic flowery melody.
Eyes sparkling, you captivate with an alluring smile.

Flowers intertwined within your raven locks.
Summer night of fireflies and dancing bees,
Forgiveness never a weakling of knees.

Soft spoken heart beats.
Sun-fire but shaded with purpling blues.
Steadying hands even though your lips may frown.

Ever present is the sleepy shadow of a sugared temptation,
That only the befallen will know.
A darkness muddled into the after-hours of dawn.
Self-pity wars that your feet danced into nothing, no more.
You let the colors become vibrant yellows, even greens.

A warrior surrounded by atmospheres of light,
Tinged with the milky blue hue of night.
Oceans come and gone but forever in your heart is song.

The decibel of your voice out beat my heart
I smoked you in with every pull of your toxic love
I exhaled you out with dull eyes

All I wanted was you
All I wanted was the moon
To make love to the tide on your shores
All I wanted was for the sun to shine
Where I stood
But the decibel of your voice out beat my heart

I screamed into the twilight corners of my room
I destroyed myself with pills
With hopelessness cough syrup
With colorful memory alcohol

All I wanted was to touch your skin
To breathe your scent in
All I wanted was to show you the lights of your shadows
All I wanted was you
"ALL I WANTED WAS YOU! YOU!" I scream at your picture on my wall.
"All I wanted was you, all
I wanted...." I whisper through cracking heaves of sobs.

Where did it go wrong
Where did it go wrong
Go wrong
I'm lost in translation
I'm sky high in breaking my rib bones
But the decibel of your voice still out beat my heart in your ears
It still out beat my heart
It still out beat
It still
Still
Still

When does it stop
When does being lost in translation stop
When does the reality of temporary become permanent
And reality a finality of time
When do shadows stop eating at the nothingness of everything
When do the questions stop and become the answers
When does relief come
Or does relief just falsify into a cast of the illusion of okay
"When does it stop?" I ask you.
"WHEN DOES IT STOP?" I scream at the shadow of your profile in the depths of my painted wall
And my skin feels tight as it is suffocating my shackled veins
"It doesn't, does it?" I ask you.
"IT DOESN'T, DOES IT?" I scream at my shaking hands full of fury and broken glass
I said I was sorry, that I didn't mean it
You said I did, you said I did
You said it was okay, you said it's okay, you said it's okay
Okay is nothing but an illusion of this fragmented world
It's not okay.
It's broken, it's fury, it's shackled and turbulent
It's glass in my palms made of tiny pills
That cut my throat as I swallow you down
In hopes you'll love me again.