Venturing into the heart of insanity,
(my mind)
I fear that i will lose myself.
I hear the blood rushing in my head
(Will it ever drown me?)
As its the only sound i hear apart from myself.
Alone with my thoughts,
(Wish me well..)
Maybe this is what i want.
Insanity. Chaos. Something.

I’m scared of touching you.
Of putting my lips on yours,
And tasting the truth.
I’m scared of holding your hand,
And that you’ll never let go.
I’m scared of getting too close,
And not being able to back out.
I’m scared of letting you love me,
And that maybe I’ll love you back.
I’m glad you trust me,
But please stop telling secrets.
Don’t whisper in my ear,
Don’t sing my favorite songs.
I’m trying to make you stop,
Stop the spread your disease.
Disease people call love,
Love I’ll never know.
Knowing how to love is an art,
Art no Mozart could draw.
Draw me closer and you’ll see,
See my bad sides and my truth.
Truth you just can’t bear,
Bear to hear from me.
Me, myself and I,
I think that’s all I have.
Have been like that for ever,
Ever and ever I’d like to keep.
Keep me close but far away,
Away from love, from it all.
All that comes with hiving hugs,
Hugs that hold no meaning.
Means that I don’t want you
You to want me back.
Back is where I want to go,
Go where I felt safe.
Safe and sound sounds good to me,
Me, myself and I.
I like the sound of that.
That’s the way I want it.
That’s how I belong.
Please don’t hold my hand,
Please don’t hold my heart.
I like you how you are,
You like me how I am.
Let’s not change that right now.
I like where I belong.
I’m scared of changing the alphabet,
Putting U right next to I.
It would mess up absolutely everything.
Me, Myself, and I.
I like the sound of that.

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

you were my Doctor.
your touch my own personal TARDIS.
guiding me through new worlds
of pleasure,
introducing me to new species
of endorphins.
(I've never been
so ******* hot
in my life)
you made me feel
gorgeous.
(if only for a moment)
you made me feel
special.
(even if you've had
other companions
before)
you unwound me
lay me bare;
I was like a padlock beneath the
sonic screwdriver of your
delicate
oh so deliberate
ministrations.
(please come back)

I'm not brilliant, I'm just winging it'
'Cause life is a song with black and white notes,
So I'll write you my song without singing it

I'm not beautiful,
though I'm flattered you think that,
And though the feeling could be mutual,
I'm not sure I could say the same back..

It's not that I don't think you're beautiful..
I've never really called a guy that before?
But your poetry helps me get through it all,
and for that I know one thing for sure,

You're a risk taker,
not a ****
nor a heartbreaking piece of work

You're a poet finding his muse,
but unfortunately this muse is bad news

I'm a mess of a dreamer,
a heartbroken fool
and my mentality could drive you to the brink of insanity,
and though you say I can't drive you there 'cause you're pretty mad yourself,
Maybe we just need time to learn how to love ourselves..

All the poems I see are sad.
I hit shuffle for the hundredth time,
Hoping not to see the word "gone" or "pain" or "alone."
Once again, I am disappointed.
Yes, I get it.
We turn to poetry when our souls are darkest
To release our insecurities under anonymity
To see the yellow lightning bolt shouting,
"Someone cares!"
Into your darkness.
And this is all right.

But there is also joy in this earth.
There are weird moments when I feel happy
Even though I don't have a boyfriend
And my best friend isn't talking to me
And it's grey and bleak outside.
In these moments of inexplicable happiness,
There is just as much poetry
As there is in the moments
Of inexplicable sorrow.

I made four blueberry muffins for breakfast.
I wore a sweater three sizes too big,
and sat on a futon two sizes too small,
reading a book I've only halfway finished
in twice the amount of time it would take
to write it.
I drove without my windshield wipers on,
three-quarters hoping I wouldn't make it
a quarter of the way across town.
I tried to picture myself walking around
without pulling my past along
behind me.
I tried,
but that doesn't matter.
**** today.
I only thought about you
while they were in the oven.
I only pictured you waking up
and feeling okay
every time I turned the page.
I leaned over and looked through
the right side of my windshield
to see the view you once had.
And the scars on my palms
are reopened every day
as I drag around everything
I cannot let go.