I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,

but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

When she spoke,
She spoke of stars.
And all those little comets she loved
So dearly.

When she spoke of him,
Her voice held a constant pitch.
Her eyes proclaimed a different tale
As they wavered
Lost and lone.

Oh how I Lie,
You never deserved to be like this.

Those little stars burnt out in your skin,
and your lips are spitting cosmic dust
A blackhole lies where your stomach once was.

She only offers
Water to sip.

All your beauty
All you've known
Will be ****** into nothingness.

I struggle constantly
With a fear
Such a strenuous consistency
Year after year

When my mind is blank
It's all okay
But one simple thought
Can send that all away

My mind is cluttered
All racing fast
Trying to deal with the future
When I can't handle the present and or past

I get overwhelmed
I honestly can't handle it all
So I procrastinate
Waste time... Stall

Then its smothering me
All at once
So all my hard work
Is just a bust

So then I feel worthless
Like why should I care
I basically give up
I ask Why me? And internally state “This isn't fair”

But that's a day in the life
That's basically me
My doctor diagnosed it as
Anxiety

Oh well
What can I say?
When it comes to mental illness
You're born this way

...
1.  Can someone
            anyone,
            please,
            teach me,  
            how
            to stop the running
            of blood
            from a wound?
2.   I don't like
            the way
            your body
            wears red;
            it's a warm
            stain
            I can't seem to
            wash
            from your cotton clothes
            or
            my porcelain mind.
3.  Your kindness; I have never realized
            that it was it's
            very own
            sort
            of torture.
            Even blood fell
            down;
            drained
            out;
     ­       cared
            about;
            left
            with­out;
            someone blissfully stupid
                             like me.
4.   I should've,
            I would've,
            I could've,
            listened to my father's instructions
            but I didn't.
            I still chase it,
            the second glass star
            to the right.
            I wasn't ready
            for what guilt
            I found;
            I never would've
            been anyways.
5.   Captain hook learned
             how simple
             it was;
             and used a
             black gun
             to ****** Peter,
             and rob him of his'
             favorite lost boy.
             He left the weapon
             in the sleight
             of my hand.
             "Time to grow up, my dear."
6.    Nine years later,
              between now
              and long ago;
              I still create
              after
              images
              whenever I give someone
              the power
              to mention
              your name.
7.     Father always told me
              fairy tales weren't real.
              *******;
              You were mine.
              You were real.
              I still don't listen
              to father.
8.    You are the dauntless touch,
              to my sense
              of adventure
              to my flavor
              of judgment,
              to my frigid heart of
              bravery.
              I don't have what it
              takes
              to change.
              Not anymore.
9.     One day I will join you.
               The sooner,
               the better.
               So how pointless is it
               that I write
               these letters,
               and remind myself
               that I am much older
               and very
               lonely?
              "Do you miss me as much as I
                     miss you?
...

...
I like to convince myself that she's a walking solar system.
                                              (One)
­                                                          (It will never be enough;)        
She has the sunken cheek bones of Mercury;
~filthy shadows, caked in crimes~
they forge her face,
oh so well,
and engrave her smile in
stone; the sun
laughs sourly,
and then,
he spits on her.
                              (Two)
                   ­                    (Because sorrow is a sweet thing.)
         She reminds me of Venus the most.
         Her hair is the murmur of violet,
         her beauty, it lingers,
         ~like cigarettes beyond the boundary~
         the cosmos, the constellations, and the milky way.
         She is my dragon princess,
         draped in stars and wounds.
         She bleeds
         the somber color of night.
         She is royal, yet alas
         "The queen didn't come
         without a crumbling castle.
                                                                ­  (Three)
                                            (So take it in, don't hold your breath)
                                                      ­   Beneath the arc of her spine;
                                                         Is where Earth plays
                                                         poker with her bones.
                                                         It's such a shame,
                                                         that her ace is her 'unkempt heart,'
                                                         and she lost it to a pitiful bet,
                                                         with a certain ghost I once knew.
               (Four)
                               (The bottom's all I've found.)
            Her fingers gouge through time's fabric, and her hands
            remind me of Mars;
            Powerful and ******,
            Oblivious to what she's created;
            I'm afraid
            the phantom
            she wishes so dearly to see,
            is only getting hungrier.
(Five)
               (Diamond wings were meant to be torn)
Jupiter is the core of her anxiety,
and she basks in it every day,
never by choice, never by desire.
Muscles and skin of iron and goldenrod,
they carve out our very own Aphrodite,
which is you,
it's always been you.
A rabid angel,
a calamity of chaos,
frothing with  blackened fear.
                                                        ­       (Six)
                              (Spill every flower from your garden of thoughts)
                                             Subtle depression lurks between the
                                             the crooked sea of her ribcage,
                                             it's Saturn smoking rings,
                                             brewin' up the cinders.
                                             ~I reminiscence in the white lace~
                                             of the cobwebs that hold her
                                             heart together.
                                             I've plucked them,
                                             those strings play a mournful
                                             sonata, with her name written all over it.
        (Seven)
                          (Promises bend at every funeral we attend)
              In the graces of her palms we found Uranus,
              like teal teeth
              and whimsical witchcraft,
              I watched her thread magic into this world.
              Her hopes shift-shape into 'nocturnal fairies',
              and 'grim reapers' with broken music boxes.
              She is naïve, but that is
              a trait she needs to survive
              in our world of
              metallic dreams and navy nightmares.
                                                    ­(Eight)
                                       (Rejection is a survivable heartache)
                                                   ­  And so what if her heart reminded me
                                                      of Neptune the most?
                                                      The royal vastness
                                                      of­ blue and ivory;
                                                      ~rip­tides on the walls of her soul~
                                                      I want her to know that ambitions
                                                      l­eave more scars and
                                                      tear more crystal flesh;
                                                      tha­n her polished wishes ever will.  
      (Nine)
                       (Have you ever seen blood and water in love?)
And her lungs,
they remind me of the honesty of Pluto.
So small, and docile,
like an elliptical smile of grey fire.
Would you lay with me a while,
count your unconditional lovers;
like our burnt stars in mason jars?
Struggle is the birth
of the void and the 'rapture'
~Your king and poet will wait for you,
in the radiant abyss of our ink-hearts~
I will guide you to his open arms,
              a hug awaits my dragon princess.

                                                     ­                   He wears the stars for clothes,
                                                      li­ke an outlaw,
among the banks of the universe.
               Where disease can't reach him, or she,
                                          Cancer can't harm you anymore,
                                                       ­          "Not anymore, Belle."
...

...
Drew,
the ashtray is full again

1.)  As I write this to you now, the doves were bleeding diamonds
2.)  And to this very day, I still find your name is in every cigarette the ocean's ever smoked
3.)  I wonder if you remembered the time we realized that flowers preferred the taste of blood over water...
4.)  Or the time we sipped some of the moon's tea; and realized that our teacups were gifts from her lover, the sun
5.)  Distance isn't constant, it's overgrown like the lucid garden that I planted in honor of my wolf girl; yet you were the one who tended it with me as if it was your own
6.)  I know, I know; I didn't thank you enough for all those moments as you held me when time melted into puddles at my feet
7.)  I wrote God a simple letter, still haven't heard from him about how you're doing yet...
8.)  "Unfortunately, on some nights my grief tastes all too silver again"
9.)  You feared all the talents that flowered in the dark and I remember the second you realized I too, was one of them
10.)  Your voice shed sapphire fireworks in my room and what I wouldn't give to see that one more time
11.)  Sleepy roses dribbled down the walls of your hospital room whenever I visited and played with your hair
12.)  The milky way shed it's fickle skins-- and sometimes when the dawn's shoulders snap into place I can hear your laughter echoing along the ribs of the sky
13.)  Your name was a natural disaster born on my pink tongue and delivered by my quaking lips and I can feel the clouds turning in their sleep
14.)  I suppose that you were a cigarette yourself
15.)  And you knew I was the lighter, but you hung around anyways
16.)  Every time I see a shooting star, I'll know that it's you in heaven just throwing away your cigarette so you don't get caught...

I think you were my bad habit
...

Scarecrows dance in violet sun rays
in time best broken over my wrists

I steal magic from chalk bones on the sidewalk
and learn to read where children left their roots to become fossils

Clouds sinking into my skin as rainwater floods
my blood and turns my steady heart stream into livid rapids

Fate tapped on my window at 2a.m. last night
and informed me that I still am a poet and I still write to injure gods

Jealous frost infested the soil and trailed kisses of death on earth's cheek
but oh how pretty envy sparkles in hues of first light

But as I beckon stars to lean from their thrones in heaven,
I have realized that it's useless to continue watering a dead flower.