It seems as though you've brought a
new light into my dismal life;
a new window for sunshine to gaze through
while I struggle through this darkness.

Circles are what I waltz in with the
old flower I clutch to;
I love you like I've always loved you
I'm sorry I don't show it more

I don't think he's all that sorry.

Instinctual habits of remembering favorites for
meaningless gifts and knowing that we must
hold hands upon entrance --
these habits haunt me.

I do not feel like I used to,
I do not feel the flame in my belly when I used to
hear his name or see his face.
It's faded away.

A small flicker, ignited with hope of a brand new chance
in months to come
is what I cling to for warmth through these cold times...
I hope we can survive this famine (love is so scarce these days).

But you..
you have this way of bringing me
to the brink of a whole new paradise.
Most likely a mirage, but I'm accepting it anyway.

Even if you are only a temporary sunlight
in my life of shade,
I'll drink you in and hope forever
that you'll stay to blossom with me.

the moon had flesh, but i tore it away
(exposure exposure)
curiosity got the best of me i wanted to know
if what i was dreaming about truly was something remarkable

(i was wrong)

the moon was a vessel full of nothingness
a reflection of my heart,
a destination of my soul

learning desolation and craving the form of a black hole,
my entire presence on this fuckall called earth is no longer
tangible

i am nothing

we are all,
nothing

flesh and sadness walking this earth with a purpose that no one's truly been able to find

none of us are anything

except for temporary shreds of sanity
that rot after a little while

distance never seems to be an issue
when the heart yearns for a love that is new.
a craving for something spectacular,
(some sort of feeling untouched and raw)

perhaps if love were more of an unexpected experience than a
lifetime destination, it would be treasured more--
the number of forms it takes is too far to reach,
but the depth of each type can swallow you completely

my self-esteem
has the sensation of a
tight fist
colliding
with a dying sun

my
sadness
has become as
swollen
as my
b  i  g , f  a  t
t   h   i   g   h   s

Too young** for those who prefer a number over a level of
maturity and understanding of the world,

too large for this who prefer to feel bones slipping between their
fingertips instead of warmth cradling their trembling self,

too smart for those who would rather be blind to the world and
how dim and dark and sad it can be,

too you for those who don't understand who I am, what I could be,
and how terribly much I could love them.

compared
not even worthy of a contrast
other names etched on your lips while you
look at me

it's difficult to understand
why you even bother
if you live in the past
so vibrantly

i've never been anyone's
first anything

they've kissed before
touched before
loved before
hurt before

they live in before while i live in the now
i'm new to everything
i'm this lump of clay always forming while they're
their own statues

i'm drying out from all these tears
cracks are forming but not into beautiful shapes or patterns
just into memories and awful experiences,
self-doubt and loneliness

i am a lump of clay with no form just
sitting here waiting to be
touched by someone who's
never touched before

now wouldn't that be lovely

objectified
made into a noun
a lifeless thing
a vessel for lust and pleasure
that can't reciprocate

dying alone in a
face full of plaster
walls built up but so easily broken
due to desperation and maybe some guilt

striving for attention and someone to love
someone to feel anything other than
blood rushing or mouths watering

i just want to feel important

I look back to this path of
words and lines and
unfinished works and all I can see is
sadness and heartbreak

it's an odd revelation,
realizing all you've ever
felt strongly enough to write about
was love and pain

there's so many other feelings in the world
so many other stories
but the only ones I can tell
are the ones that have made me want to die in the end

if that isn't sad
I'm not sure what is.

a nagging blanket of
blame
tucks me into bed every
single night

dreading walking into
doors i've known for years
because life was better
back then

it's hard to pinpoint
the exact moment
when home became a house

but i think it's the day
i lost the ability
to know who i was
on my own

and that was a long time ago

it's this weird sense of
hatred
toward myself
that's started to eat at my
sense of enthusiasm lately.
it's as if everything i do is for
naught.
there's not even an identifiable cause -
it's just there.
this overwhelming consumption
of every smile i've ever smiled and this
mind-boggling urge to just melt away
to melt away to disappear to be devoured in any sort of
flame or destructive force so i don't have to see
the light of day so i don't have to
wake up again so i can just
have been so i can be a
would have been so i can just
be gone.

i hate it.

i did it again and
i'm sorry
i scratched at
the surface
so the pain
wouldnt hurt my insides
so much
im sorry
i
am just so tired of
being alone of being
neglected of being
rejected of being
abandoned
im so tired i just want
one person to stay for
a little while
just for
a little while
im so sorry i
cant help but watch
myself bleed as i
keep crying
i cant stop crying
i cant stop
im so tired
im so alone

A second choice is all I've
ever been to
just about
everyone.

My opinion
comes second,

my heart
comes second,

my presence
comes second,

I
come second.

And I'm tired of it.

I want to be top priority,
first choice,
preferred.

Though my expectations
would never soar so high.

It's easier to have
no expectations at all,
so your heart won't break when he
doesn't come.

You are honey in the summer and
the first flower of spring,

lost buttons and stones,
sunsets and home,

you are my absolute
favorite thing.

Tell me the story
of when the earth stood
still
long enough for you
to remember
how warm her smile was,

how beautiful her eyes were,

how she was the sun.

Tell me the story
of when the moon
swept her away
into the oceans

because she was the pull from
the moon to the earth.

Tell me the story
of when,
on that fateful day,
you realized

she was inevitability.

I've realized it can't be easy,
being a gardener who doesn't know where to start.

You don't know how to caress your flowers
in the sunlight,

you don't know how to let it rain
upon their petals.

You're more delicate than they are.

Your fingers shake and your                                                                                                                 heart aches all the time.

You wanted to bring beauty into the world
but you realized you didn't know what to do after that.

You don't know where to put your heart,
in the petals, in the grass, in the leaves?

You used to whisper to me, dad,
when the thunder scared me right out of my stem.

You used to hold me
when I hadn't blossomed just yet.

I understand now.

You planted a seed and made a flower,
but you could only be the father,

never the dad.

Drowning in insignificance
choking on irrelevance

dancing in the pouring rain
stars falling with no pain

no idea where to go
reaching an all new low

can't take a breath
life's too full of heft

feeling the weight crush me
this is no way to be

where did my lungs go
what about my heart

all I feel is the blood that
was the start

of all of this mess i can't stop
thinking of what it would be like

in a world without me because
a world without me would be

the exact same.

Abandonment is a
prominent flavor in my
daily brew of
depression and
loneliness.

Steaming hot cups of
lonely nights and
sad thoughts
burn my tongue and
warm my insides.

I used to imagine us
sipping hot cups of whatever
across from each other in our
white picket-fence home

and then you became like the others.
I just hope you're happier,
wherever you may be,
for I think of you
while I sip from this

steaming hot  cup of
lonely ol' me.

I feel you in the air tonight.
You're screaming inside my lungs,
scratching at them and making them
burn while I try to learn how to
breathe again.

I don't know how to let you out,
you've found your way out of my mind
and to my heart and now you've ventured
to my lungs and who knows where you'll go next,

unless you just suffocate me now.

roses die and
lovers lie,

lips get tied and
eyes open wide.

love is strange and
love is a bumpy ride,

love is for chumps and
love is for believers,

love is for silly things and
love is for see-ers.

a word that finds its way
on every tongue,

but rarely finds its home
in a heart for long.

a feeling everyone thinks they know
but has everyone playing a fool,

for the wise that have loved know that
they never loved at all,

and the fools that loved know that
they'll never have it all.

The sun swallowed my fingers
when I tried to touch the moon,

the ground cut my knees
when I fell while trying to fly,

the sky took my breath away
when a smile started to take place.

My heart was a canvas
since it was bled dry,

now waking takes twice the effort,
and sleeping doesn't fulfill my wish to die.

She tasted of blue -
a lonely taste
filled with
carnival rides
and
bitter goodbyes.

when im
out all alone
i feel like an
empty jar
with stains
on the inside
of lost
blood and
stray tears
and with
***** fingerprints
holding too tightly
around my neck

my heart is falling out
of my chest
my hands are too
slippery
from tears
i
cant pick it up
its getting
***** and
dark
i cant see it
anymore
what do you
do when
you cant hear
the beats
what do you
do when
you cant wish on
dandelions
anymore

I wish that I was concrete,

so that when I break,
flowers grow in my cracks

instead of painful memories.

Blood drips from the stars
while lungs inhale the melancholy
as simply as breathing in
the lies we believe in every night.

It's puddling about the night sky,
patching the holes where our
wishes burned too bright,
where our hopes were pulverized.

The taste of tin fills my tongue
as sweet as your love,
I'm swallowing the blood of
every love that's ever died

and I'm drowning further and further,
because no matter how many
times I’ve wished,
love will always die.

Pick me up off the shelf,
dust me off and fix my hair.

You like playing with dolly,
don't you?

You like not having to see
emotions in her eyes,

not having to feel
hesitation in her skin.

Fix my dress and
tie my shoes,

you like not having
to fall in love with her voice,

you like not having
to feel her heart beat,

don't you,
keeper?

You like having her as
only an item,

you like not having
to feel a thing.

The devil is sweeter
than the lies on your lips,
his wrath tastes better
than the rage you sip.
You've poisoned yourself
with guilt and greed
instead of seeing
what you really need.

Rip me apart
and
salvage my
soul,

tear me
to pieces
and pretend
you cared at all.

I'll help you
pick the gravel
from your tongue
from when you fell
when you tried
to
chase the sky.

Cut, cut, cut
down that tree
that you call
home

Chop, chop, chop
up that heart
that loves you
so.

If the moon
fell down
tonight,
I would go out
dressed in only
your memory.

I would pick
up the pieces,
one by one
and put them
into the shape
of your
smile.

If the moon
fell down
tonight,
I would pluck
the biggest piece
from the
unearthly floor

only to
bring it to you
with a look
of complete
innocence
as I handed you
my eyes.

If the moon
fell down
tonight,
I would whisper
into the stars
that I could piece
their heart back
together

like you
do with mine
every night
when my own
decides
to fall
apart.

blue eyes like mine shine like a million suns,
but have the depth of a thousand oceans
where secrets are kept
and promises are broken.

Her heart
fell to the floor
without a sound
while it shattered
into a million pieces,
but the pain
still pounded
through her ears.

She held stars
that had died
years ago
as if they were
brand new.

Impatience
and
Anxiety's
fingertips
have found
their way
to my
throat,

they pierced
my skin
with Fury
and
made
me bleed
Alone.

We
bleed
forgiveness
like
it
is
the
dust
of
stars.

We dance
in a room
painted black
where stars

dot our eyes,
the smell of
lilacs
touching our lips

once we
intertwine.
Our bodies
are a symphony

weaving together,
every limb
another instrument,
composing

what Beauty
would be defined as.
We are flowers
with thorns and stems

lacing together.
We are lilacs
in the dark,
dancing in

an endless dance
of belief,
beauty,
and belonging.

Let me drug you with my smile
so you'll stay for just a while,
long enough for me to say
everything to this day

that's crossed my mind
since you left behind
the world of freedom
so I would come

to your open arms
where the world is wide
and alone is small,
my smile won't fall

as long as you're there
to catch me,
to build me the moon
with a tool formed by you

this composition only you'll read
with every inch of need
and glory to see
how much you are to me