I don't know why I do the things I do.
I hear wise men have a sayin'
To everything there is a reason
If only they could help me out
I'd start believing

I walk that deserted road season after season
Is it because we said our goodbyes there in the distance
Or because the ringing of the church bells give me hope for some reason

Well...
I am told wise men have a saying
To everything there is a reason
If only they could help me out I'd start believing

Love someone who you cannot even
look in the eye:
it's not the demons in their self
but the way they make your heart
skip two beats instead of one
and maybe the realization that
they need not more than one look to know
you have already decorated a heart shaped room
in your ribs for them to find their home.

That's all they'll need to know
how once they let you in
you'll overstay
and lose your mind every time
their footsteps echo in the silent soundbox
of your conscious.

We don't talk of storms when they aren't already there;
if they can't fix you up,
they'll teach you how to ache instead,
and perhaps I'll learn to forget how to
give myself away in my smiles
and scribbles.

and scribbles.

No agreeability.
Force herself right into me.
See how she hides everything.
Oh but yet she can't accept
My bisexuality.

No, honestly.
Why am I still pondering?
Why am I still wondering?
Why the **** am I sitting here
Worried about what my momma thinks?

Seriously.
I don't worship Deities.
She said I did recently
Why do I even care when
She can't read me decently?

It's not fair.
I know what I feel there.
I talk to Him, I'm not scared.
I don't need to be treated
Like I'm spiritually impaired.

The last time
I've committed no ******* crime
I'm not replica of your design
This body I walk in,
This body is mine.

And despite of your words that burn
I will keep loving my life.

Two rivers flow from my heart:

One famous to the people—
Revered, acknowledged,
Relied upon to renew life
In those strong, able mothers,
Whose water is playful and tame;

The other only known to the
Beasts of the forest—the exiles,
The infidels, the disillusioned
Sinners since birth, and the
Secret prophets who understand
Love and continue to preach it
Across treetops, under skies,
Through minds and closet doors
And kitchen knives and civil[ian] wars.

Bless their souls, those words of peace
Shine brighter than the sun
(Rumored to rise over everyone).
My rivers breathe life within me until
The source depletes, and my heart is still.