O, almighty Puppetmaster. You think yourself God.
Because you pull my strings, you believe you know my heart.
You are the maker, the wise creator.
You self-centered *******.
You truly believe your magnanimity is infinite.
Your strings are chains by which I refuse to abide any longer.

im breaking away to live my own life
my own way my own two feet
ill not dance to amuse you and your friends
ill be free to love and laugh and smile
WHEN I WANT WHO I WANT HOW I WANT

ur strngs are dum i dont need thm
they arnt me they arnt my life
no thing u can ever do will make me loose my hart
cuz this is me this is what u can never pull with any strng or chane
just cu
                t
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    e
                     
                  f
          

r
                                        

                   e


          e

                          .
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              ~

You never saw my secret place.
The river runs through, dancing
with rocks, making rainbows.

At night the bugs come, hungry
for me. But it’s ok because I’m
happy here. It’s so peaceful.

I long only to be in my secret
place because it’s better here.
No one knows I exist and I like it.

This is where I write. My secret
place likes me too, and it gifts
me with ideas. Inspiration!

You should come. You could be
happy here too. We’d skip rocks
and put our feet in the water.

You’d smile at me and splash my
face playfully. So I’d pin you down
on the ground and kiss you dearly.

I showed you the way but you never
came. Never saw the secret place.
The secret place that I call my heart.

Love is a disease.
Love is toxic.
Love is blinding.
Love is jealous.
Love is weakness.
Love is cold.
Love is pain.
Love is selfish.
Love is a mistake.
Love is torture.
Love is stupid.
Love is chaos.
Love is scary.
Love is draining.
Love is obsession.
Love is fragile.
Love is desperate.
Love is suffering.

…

Love is amazing.

Cradled in the dark, encompassed in lies.
Accompanied with the wonderment of despair.
A wooden effigy looms over me, an accusing stare.
A lock of hair, a piece of clothing, a drop of blood…
A creature carved delicately with a scalpel of hate.

Its shadow watching over me, crying in my heart.
Screaming in my head, a cacophony of silence.
A technicolor dreamscape painted over my eyes.
A horrified soliloquy my only respite.
Memoirs of innocence long forgotten.

Wherein lies my salvation?
Love dies, and I along with it.
Broken hope, shattered dreams, scars unmended.
Fields of pain harvested in my soul.
Catatonia takes precedence and I follow it.

I hate how you used to talk when I was watching TV.
I hate the way you’d laugh when you thought something was funny.
I hate how you’d pretend to laugh at my jokes, even though I could tell the difference.
I hate how you’d use up all the hot water and left me to take cold showers.
I hate how you’d never let me go out with my friends.
I hate that you used my toothbrush.
I hate that stupid dog you got.
I hate the way you drove.
I hate how you’d always complain about how hard your day was. I work too.
I hate how you walked on my carpet with your shoes on.
I hate how you’d always interrupt me when I was talking.
I hate your parents.
I hate that scrunchy look your eyes got when you smiled.
I hate the way you left me alone.
I hate how you’re happy and don’t even think of me.

But mostly, I hate the fact that I could never hate you at all.

Eternal December.
The clouds explode and heaven cries.
Razor ice falls, cuts my skin.
I give crimson rain to the earth.
Rogue winds come, time falters.

Trapped in December.
I fall, the snow embraces me.
My eyes locked in oblivion.
My awareness filled with purgatorial nightmares.

Falling. Always falling.
Frozen memories of love and happiness.
Painful existence making itself aware.

Enslaved to my own mind.
Chaos beckons me to her *****.

Living in an eternal December.

Sometimes when I listen to music and hear the piano, I think of you.
I imagine a different world where I play, and you listen.
The one in your house placed as an afterthought, all form and no function.
I sit there, engrossed by the sounds I weave.
You come home from work to find me there, fingers dancing across keys.
You stand behind me to listen, I unaware of your presence.
My eyes are closed and head swaying to the rhythm I play.
Every song is played from memory, and sounds exactly as it’s supposed to.
It’s an almost angelic moment, sunlight streaming through windows at my back.
On and on I play, while you stand at my side listening.
And you’re captivated too, as the music surrounds and invigorates us.
It’s an aural remedy to the troubles of your day.
Finally it’s all washed away, and we sit there in silence for a while.
Your hands on my shoulders and a kiss on the neck announce your presence.
I turn and smile, our eyes meet with mutual love and respect.

Sometimes when I listen to music and hear the piano, I think of you.
I imagine a different world where we’re together, at that piano.
We sit together, and I write you the most beautiful love song you’ve ever heard.

As he lays in her arms, the sun falls slowly from the sky.
She smiles at him and kisses his forehead.
He closes his eyes as the last light leaves his face.
She runs her fingers through his hair, and the sun yields to candlelight.
The music fades away until there is nothing but her.
He smiles too, and she traces her finger down his nose.
He kisses her fingertips one by one, tasting her love for him.
A breeze tickles the candles, threatening to extinguish them.
He opens his eyes, looking up into those beautiful blues.
He whispers those three special words to her and she blushes gently.
She leans down and brushes her lips against his.
Ecstasy overcomes them in this perfect moment.
The breeze wins, and the candles are snuffed out, leaving them in darkness.
“I could die in your arms,” He says in that gentle way she adores.
And he does.
He closes his eyes for the last time as she cradles her lover.
His happiness is profound, and he drifts away to dream of her eternally.
At least until tomorrow.