I'm aware that our drinking might be damaging
to our livers, but
there's something amazing about seeing ourselves
without filters.

The pull you described-
I thought it was imaginary
as I'm not the best judge of my own character
and when you met me, I thought I was a *******.

Sometimes, I still think I'm a *******.

But you've molded me
into something far better,
a form I am proud to inhabit,
a soul I enjoy feeding
and feeling inside me.

Yes, you're an inspiration
and yes, your form and mind keep me awake
at night, imagining
possibilities-

ways to kiss you, adore you, be a better man for you -

(and yes,
I gendered myself

partially because you've made me realize
that my Self is a canon
of hope for others like me
and that I should cherish it)

There's nothing more precious to me
than waking up next to you,
feeling your eyelashes flutter
against my cheek as we rise,
procrastinating leaving our bed
because it's warm and inviting-

or feeling your breath in my ear
as you tell me your stories,
secrets
that I won't ever mention
to anyone-

You'll have everything I can give
in my emotional reserve.

You'll have my joy, pain, oblivion
and all in between.

You'll have time, love, patience, faith,
whatever you need,
my love,
ask
and it shall be granted

There are no shapes that can be formed by my lips  
No position that I can place my tongue in  
And nothing I can make my throat do  
To express what begs to be heard.  
There are no brushstrokes,  
No lines and no dots that can convey  
What is brimming inside me.  
Even the loudest sound  
Echoing off the bouncing of a string  
Or from air colliding through a brass chamber  
Would fail to touch what I wish to utter.  
No vibration  
No frequency  
No wavelength nor amplitude  
Could even come close to the  
silence that emits from the apertures of my face,  
a silence so total  
and a heart so raw  
Even the strongest attraction  
At the most microscopic level  
Would crumble before  
  
*this.

I’m a journalist but I hate people. I can’t stand when disingenuous words fall out of my mouth, it makes me feel evil,
but I lie all the time.

The content of my ciphers is not to be discussed or deciphered.
The pain in my logic is not to be altered or justified.
The reason for my appearance is not to be questioned or speculated.
The light in my eyes is not for you to touch.

I am mine-
so *******.

When I was younger my daddy told me writers didn’t need to swear.
Find a better word, he said, but
I’ve come to learn that everything is about choice.
All art is the product of a series of conscious choices.
So, if I need to say *******-
I will. *******.

You are in no place to discern my face from others.
My identity is not to to be discussed in any room, public or private, without my consent.

Prophecy: In due time, all this will be self-explanatory.

Your bruises fail me.
Your clinics and doctors fail me.
Your out-dated policies, lack of tribunal protocols
fail me.
Your guidelines, endless forms, paper guzzling rituals
fail me.

I owe you nothing. You will receive whatever it is that I choose to bestow upon you with either love or discomfort.
You have no choice.
The time has come for a systemic revolution, starting with the Self.
I owe you nothing. You cannot change me nor hinder these evolutionary processes.

Your scalpels fail me.
Your nip-and tuck, ****** relocations
fails me.
Your aesthetics fail me.

Make room for me in this ocean, or I will drown you all alive.

Your triumphs fail me, too.

I absorb
each of your sounds
like the listener I am,
relishing them

Committing them to memory,
stored inside a vault
I dip a finger into
when I am feeling cold
or lonely -

and when I do recall
the contours of your face
or the cadence
of your nighttime whispers
I sit awhile
and feel no pain

The crimes of my heart are swift and brutal.

Tell me again
you find masochism attractive,
and I’ll show you
true devotion

We are hiding things.

Secrets looped around the roots of our teeth,
nestled under our tongues,
sliding down our esophagus

Winding their way throughout our rib cage,
inching towards our hearts