I drew a heart on paper because
**** you can make it beat.
Really, you terrify me.

Eos was the titan of the dawn,
And that's where I am now,
Here at the beginning of my life,
Entering a healthier state,
Relying on myself.

The days are long in this summer hell,
Outside it burns like sulfur,
Never
Pleasing those who love the
Engulfing darkness.

Remember that I write to please myself
Because I don't care about the masses, I
Care
About
Us.

Silly
Excuses.

I have liquid in my lungs.
I know this because I can hear it, feel it.
I smell zucchini and cheese and all I want to do it kiss her
And tell her that the teal shirt she wore when we met
Still shows up in my dreams.

Every single day I ache
To call some place up there,
And order an orchid for your door.

I am reminded in my limp and my shrug
That I love you.
I am reminded in the fact that I would be willing to suffer nightmares every single night of my life
If only you slept next to me.

You smell like the woman I want to marry,
And your strong shoulders feel like the ones I want to see every morning
When you sit up on the bed.

I'm willing to go the distance.

I never told you that I loved you.

But none of them can be heard.

I smile more.
I laugh heartily.
I kiss and love.
I don't obsess.
I don't harm.
I am fit.
Physically.
Mentally.
Emotionally.

I read.
I play.
I drive.
I am free.
I am Marshall.
And by God,
*This feels good.

My teacher once said
That protagonists of novels
Are teenagers in a sense.
Commonly.

These characters are new to life,
But not brand new.
They take chances that wisers
Might not.

They steal things,
Have ***,
Feel hope.
Adults do not.

We all want to read about teenagers
Because teenagers remind us
That life can have a bright outcome
If your teen years set it up properly.

We throw our lives away,
Then spend the rest of it
Reading novels
*Wishing that we didn't.

Memnoch,
My Devil,
I don't know what to do.

You speak of lies,
You speak of life,
And I know you speak of truths.

I am an unhealthy person.
I have an unhealthy mind.
It searches for ways to cope with things,
Ways I know you wouldn't find.
It thinks of needles, lighters and blisters,
Of bite marks and bruises and hating my sister.
It thinks of benches and doorsteps and two **** soft beds,
It thinks of that kitchen, that grass hill and when the moon turned red.

I have an unhealthy person.
I am an unhealthy mind.
Together I make a combination
Of the likes you would never find.

And I don't know what to do.

A Great Dane named Matilda.
That's what I wanted.
You wanted children.
You want to be a veterinary doctor.
I want to be a chemist.

Your birth mother was gorgeous.
I'm sorry about her.
I'm sorry for everything.

I don't know why you take this time
I don't like it one bit,
I try to act like I don't care
Like I don't give a ****,

But I can't help myself
I care too much to fake,
I want your company with me
I don't like this new ache.

This new study says
That therapods like
Tyranosaurus Rex
Made hissing,
Booming sounds
Like cassowaries
And emus.

They are right
As I see it.

They were not monsters.
Only pre-birds.

There's a fallen tree
67 degrees in angle
It rests on that arch.

Amongst these ruins
I feels safest of all.


No man or bad will
Can harm me here.

I am with nature.

I have handed you a bullet.
I have handed you a revolver.
Load it,
                             **** it,
And pull it.

And my love has not faded
*In the least.

I said it more last night than I've said it in ages,
Since I was truly in love.

I heard it more last night than I've heard it in ages,
Since she was truly in love.

As it was four months ago,
Hello.
I am right here,
in the same seat,
with the same drink
and the same-                                              think.
much has changed except my love,
but even that sits stasis,
not moving places,
Fake it.
I'd love to, really,
but I can't,
I love her.
I love her too.
And every day that I look into a mirror,
I want to cover my hand with scars of broken-




**Glass

She twitches,
I assume out of subconscious fears,
When she's falling close to sleep.

I realize now
The full efforts of what she's been trying to tell me
She is honestly
Struggling.

But that single day was near perfect,
And she kissed me more than she had in over a week,
But not once on my mouth.

What use is it to satisfy what your desire
If you actually don't.

And leave my thoughts disoriented by the fact that
He exists.

Last night,
Home,
I was searching for my peace,
That peace was your presence until he interjected
And I swear it will be this way until
You find some closure.

And by god,
I hope it is not I whom you sever.

And for that moment, those fleeting measurements of time, He was where He wanted to be.

They are yellow and green and orange
And they do not taste good
And they grow on vines,
Woman!
A gourd.
They are the colors of Autumn.
I want. A sweater. The color.
Of a.
GOURD.

And yes I get jealous,
But what did you expect.
I want your kiss, your touch,
I want every single one.
Okay, I love you,
I really didn't want to,
But I do.
And I don't know what to do.

I am a monogamous animal.
I want only one lover to be with.
And I want from you to feel the same way.

She said she'd break my heart.
I think it will be the other way around.

And it keep it there, between your legs while
I use my other hand to explore the soft curves of your back while
I gently start moving my kisses away from your lips
And towards your collar bones while
I listen to you gasp and moan in pleasure and ecstasy.

We have invisible friends of
Pleasure and repetition
Of the things which nobody sees
But we still do.
The foot tapping
The circling of fingers on plastered walls
The counting of heartbeats while sitting.
The remembrance of bruises and scars
The regrets of actions long past
The desire to act on the current.
Oft do we ignore our natural state
Such attitudes are unhealthy to the mind
Feed your desires.

The little man who lost it
Still wanders
Like he did the day
She left.
Nothing changes
We're all still sand
In the hourglass.
The little grain of dust
Still falls back and forth
Like he will
*Forever.

"I love you Marshall. Goodnight."

Jami Belle,
<smiles>
I knew there was one more name to yours when I met you
And I asked you about it
And you said and you laughed:
"Peterson. I hate it though."
I could change that.
Does Hiatt sound nice? It did at the time. Jami Belle Hiatt.
A nice ring.
You liked it.
God I miss you.

My favorite is one I requested on a morning in the summer when I went to the library too early and they weren't open yet, so I waiting in the parking lot and she was just barely waking up and I asked her for a photo and she said she was ugly cause it was morning and she wasn't ready at all, but I kept asking and so she did. She sent me a photo of her in bed, sleepy as hell and it is the best photo I've ever seen. The joy that photo brings me is immeasurable. It comes from a time when life was perfect, it comes from a perfect source, who I loved perfectly.

I would give anything to be with her.

There's a body on a table in a morgue.
That's all.

Then rip it the rest of the way. Cause **** that paper.

There's an ambient sound in the light of this sill, this wooden panel of glass and appreciation of architecture and planning and the lack thereof. There's a scent to the air which is like somebody wants to care, but just doesn't. A crow sits.

There are rusty tools in the shed and rotting wood on every building. Dead leaves on all grounds. Silent fires. Silent animals and corpses.
Silent golden jewelry sitting in a drawer, waiting for it's half life.

The man with blonde hair is new. So is his blood and sweat. Things are changing.
He's running for his life.

You said I was the best.
You said I was perfect.

If I had jello in my veins,
I'd cut my wrists and drink
Scrumptious sugar sweet,
Rainbow colors within me.

I could love you if we tried,
I really think I could,
But I think right now,
I don't really think we should.

I'm trying not to,
I'm trying to ignore the urge to say I love you,

Less and less of it every day,
But those memories won't go away.

I thank god that you showed up,
I'm glad I found you with my luck,
And I'm glad we loved each other for a week,
But I'd really rather just remember that ****,

That night, those days,
My heartbeat and yours
No regret.
None.
And society will call me a *****
And I will laugh and say
"I loved her."
"I really did."
And it will not be a fib.

If I lived her life,
I'd **** myself,
Every ******* day.

I'd put a gun up to my head
And send lead through my own brain.

I wouldn't keep on living if I knew I was a liar,
I'd try to be pure,
I 'd push myself through fire.

And sure, I'm not pure,
But purer things desire,
That purer men seek purer still,
Unlike that ******* liar.

The world will keep spinning
If the population starts thinning.

Maybe she can be the beginning.
*Of the end.

A uniformity in expectance,
A subconscious wait.
My mind knows it's coming
Like some kind of date.

Her words,
Be they good or bad,
Are expected,
If only a tad.

2 AM,
My body wakes
It's so ******* late
Will it come?

I wait.

Richard was in his lab.
White coat and plastic bag.
Carrying lenses for the telescope.
To view planets.
And other space rocks.

Gemini 4551.
An asteroid.
Projected for Earth collision.
Two years exactly.
Richard kept a calendar.
Only he knew.

Richard and his lenses.

-

Richard told the president.
And his advisors.
They asked for proof.
But. He said.
I can’t see it today.
I don’t know where it went.
Let me clean the lenses.

Richard cleaned the lenses.
Still nothing.
The officials left.
Lunatic wannabe hero.

-

Many things were wrong.
Richard hated life.
His wife left.
His dog died.
No family.
No friends.
Richard hung himself on a Sunday.
Maybe God would care.

-

The asteroid came.
Uncaring.

He walks with no extraordinary gait,
No abnormal actions,
No external signs.

His steps sound human.
They are.

His voice sounds human.
It is.

So why does he hate himself.
Why do the charred hands within his chest scratch at the clay doll he calls a heart.
Why does he pick away at the chipping layer of lies and truths and in-betweens which coat his insides with a yellow paint.
Why does he pressure the unpressurable.
Why does he push every boundary but one.
Why is he the bad guy.

Why is his hero absent.
Where is he.

I get to use my Z key.
Quite a rare site to see.
A tap and a tick in the bottom left hand corner of my keyboard.
I like it.
This tapping and ticking.

To hate what I've become is a habit,
I have it, this hatred.
Taking whats sacred from me and giving,
Donating
A living, breathing thing, still shaking.

A gift
Few take a chance to lift,
A kiss.
My Miss.

Burn me,
With acid.

Burn me
Alive.

I feel we have the same depth.
I measured it.
It is exactly 2 feet, 12 centimeters and one apple.
Sometimes two apples.
Depending on the weather in New Zealand,
And the size of the kiwi crop yield
divided by the length of a fault in Japan.
And how that effects the cherry blossoms.

Make a hole in a book without desecrating it.
I bled on a book once,
Not what I meant.

It has a rhythm
.
(period)

I hate that word
It, I hate
Vowels,
None.

Rhythm
Doesn't have itself.
Ameta.
Arhthmia.
Abeneficiary.
Maleficiary, actually.
Sinrhythmia.
Sinrhymia.
Sin
Los reglas.
Measure thing by the size of your thought, not
An inch.
Or centimeter.
I prefer the brits.
But not the hippies
I am one.
we are all one.
One with

A-god.
Not "a" god.
A-god.
As in.
Athea.
Without-thea.

God doesn't wear a suit.
Why should we.
*Cause I look ******* fiiiiiine.

Like butterfly wings, her eyes,
Flapping.
Every blink a gust.
Every thread a hue.
Searching for scents,
A new flower or two.
Or
Just one.

I can't control myself.
*I got it.

Euphoria eludes descriptions.
I am uplifted, I laugh and smile and almost yell joy,
And no one knows why.
The only clue:
A box full of rocks in my room
And the ten dark marks near my neck.
I love them.
I love.

I don't know what to do!
I'm losing her!
The young father cried to his parents.
What can I do?!

His mother spoke menials
Stupid remark of a sheltered woman
And a barely assertive lifestyle.

But the grand of fathers sat and listened.
He got up to leave.

Dad, please. What do I do?

I don't know. I couldn't even stop my own son from killing himself.
Don't ask me.

Hey.
I have a question.

*Go for it!