Just  by the method in which you breath
you create a sort of paradise for me to live in.
You're just my kind of man,
you're a stand up kind of guy.
Now yell at me until my eyes bleed
and stare at me until my ears pop.

Breath life into this breathless song
and breed the love until it is of pure blood.
God knows I'm bad with habits.
They pile up and I can't properly feed them.
So try to be cool.

The board snaps and the red light indicates the doors are secure
and the entirety of the manor rejoices when you walk in.
You're ten minutes late but you brought 4 grams of
cleverly disguised bad intentions and for that everybody is eternally grateful.
But I'll try and be cool.



I'm the only one who could ever have any fun
but that was only when I was with you.

So be cool.

*******
and your indecisiveness
Your mysterious demure caught my glance
You twisted, and dissembled my sight
Wrapped up in your eloquence
Believing in good intentions
Our evanescent love lasted only a moment
If it existed at all
Your nearness to me was made insignificant by your blithe nonchalance
And here I remain
An ingenue
Fooled again, lured in by your perplexing,
Negligent attitude towards life,
Towards me

My name means “gracious gift of God”, but this is not what I am.
My name does not mean “gracious gift of God” because I am not the product of one,
I am the product of many.
My name means “she sees,”
But there are glasses perched on my face with every intention of helping me see what is only a few feet away.

Isis, the most powerful Egyptian Goddess lives right between Jessica and Brady.
Isis is the goddess of magic and nature, two things that I love dearly yet no one knows about.
She stays unknown, and hidden, like she does not want to be seen.
With great excuse as well, because Isis is the only accurate depiction of me within these 16 letters, 7 syllables, 3 words.
Because I am not bound by connected lines
With spaces in between that have a bigger picture,
I am not my name in the most formal way.
I am the way that my curls frizz when I’ve forgotten to treat it,
Or the way that my hand flickers and wavers over a paper
When I’m about to forget an idea.
I show myself as a simple person
But I am not just one person.
With every breath you take you remove a piece of yourself
And breathe in a piece of someone close to you.
For that reason, I am not myself, not wholly at least.

I am the way my mother cuts down people with their own words,
The way she brought me to numerous swimming classes and taught me to love the ocean,
Or maybe the way words roll off my fathers tongue like he was born with this knowledge.
Maybe I am the way my friends tell me only absolute truths,
Or the way they only think in hypotheticals.

But come to think of it now,
These have all mixed and pieced together to become a part of me.
So maybe
In the end
I really am myself.