01:52 am
have you ever asked yourself like why you so lonely?*

01:53 am
or empty?

that maybe you give too much of your essence to people and never leave any of you for yourself

01:55 am
i know i do

02:05 am
and like that's maybe why i get so attached to humans

because in them,
i find myself

02:07 am
i need to change, because things shouldn't be this way

02:10 am
but it's hard sometimes you know, when most days you don't leave the house because you feel unworthy of the space you take up

02:16 am
so you'd much rather disintegrate into soil because you've become all too familiar with people stepping over you and admiring the outcome of your beauty but never the roots of your pain

02:19 am
i spend so much effort watering people in order for them to grow and hardly get enough sun shine to feed my own soul

02:25 am*
because i don't know how to do anything else but care for everyone but myself

There's a fine line between love and lust. He loves me, he loves me not. We were everything you could dream of; summer days and winter nights. He loves me, he loves me not. We were lazy mornings in bed, we were picnics in the afternoon, we were evenings spent watching golden sunsets and we were late night drives listening to old records. He loves me, he loves me not. We were unexpected rainfall and delayed trains. He loved me, he loved me not. We met in the spring, he was the warmth from the sun and I was the April showers that drowned him out. He loved me, I loved him not.

i watched you dance
in the middle of the neon lit room
and as much as i loved you
i could not help but feel envious.
there was jealousy i could have sworn would **** me
jealousy for the way you could
move your body to the beats of youthfulness
jealousy for the way you could
smile and laugh with slightly drunken people
you didn't even know
jealousy for your confidence in the restless crowds
jealousy for the way you acted so carelessly on friday nights
the way i wish i could

please do not look at me
so the butterflies in my stomach stop fluttering so achingly
please do not laugh with me
so your boyish grin does not find its way to my twilight dreams
please do not speak to me
so your winsome words are not all i hear in the summer daze
please do not care for me
so i do not believe you'll be there when i need someone in the dark of night
but instead,
please walk away from me
so i will get used to how it feels when you leave
please ignore me
so i forget the beautiful mind of yours that enthrals me
please be truthful to me, show me you don't care
so i know i am of no significance among the people in your life
please, break my heart already
so i have a reason to believe you will never be mine

sitting underneath her knee was a lent book of entymology
something about butterflies being caught and pinned
preserved in stasis for the sake of beautiful things
cold crisp leaf wings smoked behind the glass
of a cyanide bottomed killing jar
and in that half read book all she could glean
amongst the bones of writing so lean
was the feeling that you could lie flat and cold
and be a redolent beauty despite the lack of life-

days earlier
the talking therapy had been all right.
hey, there's a ton of treatment these days
medication and conversation and there's no need
to burrow yourself away.
so they talked about feelings
as if they were quietly observing the to and fro
independent little embryos growing opinions of their own-
the indignant insistence that these things,
these emotions have names, signs, triggers
and they begin and they end and curve again-
rising up from the flat of a typeset page.

Die into me,

Every kiss is a prayer
As I whisper a prophesy
         To your body.

          The night will keep us
As we constellate our passion.

I die into you,

      I await you on the other side,
There open my soul
      And read the inscription:

   He died a thousand times,
Reborn inside her,
    The Sacrificial Lover.

If my Valentine you won't be,
I'll hang myself on your Christmas tree.

the sound of his incantations
hung like a fertile cloud in the air
till it became locked in an embrace
with the holy smell of incense bare
and all the while he droned on steadily
like a distant engine upon an incline
the birds of the night spun around him
crazy like a moth willing death to come
the hot wax stuck like glue on his fingernails
as the passion heated up and blew a blast
in the direction of mirthless unseen onlookers
witnesses to a macabre rite in the dead of night
the time for forging ties that bind was well nigh
for what better instrument to weld togetherness
than a grim kind of secrecy in the  dead wilderness

I've tried portaiture,
but for some old reason
I find it hard
to eulogize the living.

And when I do try,
the details just never seem
to fit right,
it's too much
or not enough
or just plain inaccurate,
from a few steps back.

I'll paint your actions, alright
'cause I can watch those happen
start to finish,
but I wouldn't pretend to be good enough
to encapsulate a whole person
-all that transient multicolor light under your halo-
with my petty vain jabber,
my incomplete vocabulary
of unflattering grunts-

take it as a compliment.