Once upon a time, there was a
fat-***, rude, easily aggravated, and aggressive princess
who sat at the top of a tower,
waiting for a dreamy prince who would someday climb the tower
and rescue her
and not care that she was
ugly, loud, and half out of her mind.

One day, that day came,
and this boy of a man
climbed up the sides of the ****** tower
that contained the dreaming princess,
hoping to save her
and make her his.

Once he got to the top,
he tapped her window,
rap...rap...rap
"My dear, I have come save you! Come out!"
She stirred out of another daydream of a
hunky, sweet guy coming to save her,
only to find that it had come true.
She dashed across the floor,
with her fat chubby legs, her heavy panting, her sloppy, ***** and tattered chiffon dress,
and burst open the french window.

"Oh hey yea, sorry I was kinda busy back there, so what's up? Why'd you come knocking? Hmmm..? Where are you?"
She looked around, but couldn't find the poor prince.
Turns out, the prince had clung on the the window,
but once she flung open the windows,
he lost his grip and fell back down,
all the way down to the bottom.
She stared down.

"****! Oh well. At least he gets that pretty ***** at the bottom,
who has yearned for his attention for so long. He'll be happy. They deserve each other."
She shrugs, closes the windows, and watches as
the fair maiden at the edge of the tower
mends his bones and his heart,
while stealing it along the way.

The fortunate prince fell in love with the dear maiden,
and it seems that she had always loved him from afar but never dared to say a word,
and they both lived happily ever after.
Of course, all while the princess stared down with a knowing smile on her face.

There's an ice storm in my brain,
        my thoughts
                     are sliding
                out of control,
         there's a fire in my chest,
                        making ashes
          of what's left of
                     my soul.

You're the first person
to ever realize
that we're falling apart.
Congrats, Luis,
for once a guy has actually cared about
the stature of our current relationship,
which is to say,
that it's slowly deteriorating.

when i was five,
i would scrape my knees,
and ***** my face,
whenever i fell.

but i was never afraid to stand up,
dust of my clothes,
and begin running again.

when i was nine,
i would trip and stumble,
ruin the pale skin of my hands,
but i didn't care.

i wanted to keep running,
to feel free...
so i did.

but now, whenever i fall,
i ***** my hands with my own blood,
and my legs start shaking uncontrollably,
so i curse the ground for being so uneven.

all i can seem to do now
is just glance at my injuries,
wallow in my own self pity,
and wait.

but what exactly am i waiting for?

to those who actually have people they trust,
i salute to you.

to those who have others that care for them,
i salute to you.

is it me?
or is it them?
it doesn't matter i guess...
it all ends up in the same way,

cause it seems that i can't have either.

I sat on the floor, my face buried in my hands
Slowly I watched her shadow fade-
Never coming back.
As those words rang in my ears,
Deafening, refining-
Slowly but beautifully killing me.

Never coming back.
I slowly drone her voice piercing me all over
As if a pin kept pricking my body
With enough force to cause an eternal agony-
But not enough to ****,
To put me out of my misery.

My soul, slowly breaking-
Alive, but dead inside.
Her voice, deafening, beautiful-
Never coming back.

my first
a lion inside a boy
a full moon (i thought you gave off light; you only reflected mine)
a breathless english winter, pale and icy
an explorer of collar bones and thighs and shoulder blades
my love, my life
the loveliest flower, or perhaps an entire garden
a time traveller (you showed me the world at 5.30am)
a stupid teenage boy
july 28th to november 4th
a semicolon - a story to be continued;