When people ask me,
how long I’ve been writing
I tell them the same story

I was 6 years old, and a friend got me a little notebook

My first thought in it, was in French, about how easy the language was.

I was so excited to see my thoughts on paper. Something concrete, visual, that made you feel something

For the past 15 years, I’ve made language my own.
Wrote about first crushes and how hard it was to be 9.
An later on 10, 12, 15, 18, 19 and 20

I fell in love with the smell and sound of Bic on paper
The idea that my thoughts were now real and immortal.

I fell in love with language and how one word can mean different things.
I fell in love with the only thing that came easy to me, words

I was 6 years old and said. Language is the most beautiful thing ever.
I may be 90 years old and say
Language is the most beautiful life I’ve ever lived

I can no longer hide
My soul ignited

once disparaged
I long to share it

The chills in my spine put into words

Lips on skin
Eyes filled with sin

What is this sensation

I drip colors you cannot see

Heightening my passion
Enhancing my touch

Raw emotion channeled as such

My desire aches
The color of flush
My cage breaks
Expressions of lust

I do not fear it
I can hear you blush

My favorite sound

Our souls combust

I can’t seem to write anything worth reading anymore
I can’t seem to draw anything anyone wants to see
I can’t seem to say anything worth listening to
I can’t seem to be anything anyone wants to care about

Forth and back so on and so forth

Madness masking more madness

When a narcissist cries. . .
Big, fat, salty
Crocodile tears of self love

For you to appreciate their

              Sensitivity

So insightful through the most insidious of manipulations
Unaware, blissfully, so blissfully you stay unaware
In some emotional waiting room

Preparing for an appointment
That was never made

Not for you anyway

You're just the vessel
My ride to the store

Paradoxically
To the narcopath. . .

Self love is
Self loathing
Self loathing's
Self love

Those who crave pity
Must first devour all of their own

Then starve at too young an age
From loving themselves
Much too much
Behind a shattered enough stage

A mess at the start
Even cats need learn their own claws

Professional confidence from something
Re-sewn, sutured, glued, reassembled

From pure disaster into smooth alabaster
Sharp at the edges, dangerous
This insightful love of the narcopath

Fierce now unbroken
Statuesque
Whole and all powerful

Distorted fully to experience zero reality
Floating among humans
In irrelevant situations

A deep love shared for the glory
Of one

With the strength
Of one thousand suns

Be careful

Those little emo black holes, ha,
They'll swallow your *** whole

Allow me to be naked around you,
Adjust to the sudden change in atmosphere,
If you will.

Grasp at fleeting understanding,
Until it leaves your consciousness forever.

The chase, that chase for understanding.
That urge, the traces of that hurt.
Turned me into a *****.

Don’t misconceive my nakedness for desperation.
I am this,
Transparent, clear-minded.
Take me as you will.
Or leave me as you may.
I am still right here.