I know you think about me on the way home
I know you think I want to be alone
I'm accustomed to calling on the phone
I'm accustomed to making it on my own
But I've dreamt of places you've roamed
I see the same passionate soul
You've romanced me in your loving tone
Your fiery moan, your satisfying groan,
And with it a price, mortality a loan
So my eyes I have sewn,
To my porcelain skin and my doll-like bones,
My true light has shone-
China Doll, a title for the throne.
I can be yours if only you would know, Just know if you break me you can never let me go.

You deserve an Ode, so here I shall bode.
You are the freckles on a child,
sporadic, excessive, and just as wild;
the raging dots of acne on a teenager,
hormones and stress as the main factor;
the bullets from the bullet point to-do list of an undergrad,
and maybe sometimes the actual bullets
in a graduate who would rather eat bullets
than check off another bullet
from their bulleted to do list.
You are many. You are few.
The wrinkles of the elderly;
the cracks on a highway;
the hairs on a head;
the texture on my ceiling.
I exist secularly. I lie here alone. But you.
You are all encompassing, omniscient, and misunderstood.
Not only visible at night, as you claim,
but forever present in the eyes of a lover.
Not capable of granting wishes as they say,
but still worthy in the eyes of humans to discover.
They discover and uncover another and another-
a never-ending game of hide and seek.
And you laugh, scoff at those who feebly scramble
in search of a higher power,
when there is no power higher than the stars.

Once I would've filled my shoebox with tangible memories
Materialistic items
But movie tickets, receipts, newspaper clippings, they all have something in common
They all fade
Cease to be anything but scraps of recycled material
I have long since moved on from
Temporary importance
I fill my shoeboxes with abstract now.
What's in your box?

I kept replaying this over and over,
Like a memory soundtrack.
Click, Repeat, Click, Repeat.
But I only liked it the first time.

I practice careful observance,
Which involves taking time out of my day
To sit on a park bench;
Feeling and embracing brown colors, Brown confidence.

I peeled open the **** of an Extinguished cigarette
And examined its contents,
Assessed the components
Of what makes up happiness,
And its characteristic unattainability,
And wonder why there should exist a word that's impossible to perform.
And flicked away a bug complacently.

When contentless is so often reached,
What's the difference between passion And stability?

Forever existing as the bags under my eyes,
Keep flicking until it burns out,
Or so I tell myself.

There is a dark aesthetic
In the horror-house of a horror story
Where emotion is merely blue ambiance
Treated constantly like mental patients

Every day I face
multiple cages and tanks,
Doors with locks, doors with bars,
Sealed blinds shut tight
and tight schedules sealed shut,
Leashes and collars,
Choke chains and smoke chains-
From the fire that engulfed the flame.

I can tell you all their names;
The birds, the fish, the dogs, the cats,
The animals that were tame.
Those that were as helpless as I.
I can tell you where I am from.
And I am the one who is ablaze.

How can I already sit and ponder,
"I wish I knew then what I knew now?"
How can I already have arthritis of the soul,
How can I already be too tired to fight anymore?

Arguably a tad too young for depressing, nostalgic introspection-
But I can tell you why. I can tell you how much my small frame
doesn't quite fit the brooding thoughts that seep through
my heavy head holding hostage my body
My body is not to blame for this haunting,
lingering past in the shape of a house
It was the limbs performing the directions,
carried out and controlled by the mission control center
to this messed up operation existing within
the confines of my cage
No time to tell my story before the fire engulfs the flame.

But I can tell you all their names;
The abusers, the users, the accusers, the persecutors
Those who broke me to make me tame.
I can tell you where I am from.
And I am the one who is ablaze.

I cannot remember
I cannot tell you my name.

Love aches
Like an eight hour shift with jelly legs
Love expects
Like when it's nice to have texts from you after work
Or when I play out a scenario of you waiting up for me with candy
Love lonelies
Like when I have no reason to be but I am
Maybe because separation anxiety isn't just for dogs
Love uses
Like when I finally learn you have to be selfish with *** sometimes
Love cross fades
Like when I'm drunk on your taste with smell mingling
And high on your presence
Love grows up
Like I am beginning to