I wanna fire you in my veins;
have you ruin my life
I want you to be the cancer, baby
I have to cut out with a knife

I wrote this for you a long time ago on a coffee stained napkin, after you left me, full of love, lingering in a cafe.

"For you, in all your follies and faults and the way they make you so perfect for me.
For you, in the moments that linger in the vehemently insignificant corners and corridors of things, as if drifted of their own grandure.
For you, for the words that spill to the floor and the brilliant way you understand the deafening silence that follows.
For you, for your supernovas and clever shades, for your daylight smiles and nighttime skins.
For you, for your familiarity and the impossible truths that stand as martyrs to say that I have loved you before.
For you, despite the treachery and quiet sinister fun of the world.
For you, for making me so terribly scared of dying."
Yet here I am, in your wake, so full of so many thoughts and demons. Know that I have died, that I have loved and lost with equal measure.

I want you to look into my eyes and see shelter from the storm of society and selfishness that smother our spirits and leaves us broken and alone.

I want you to rest your battle beaten body in my warm embrace and know that the wars of yesterday are over. That you can lay down your arms while taking up mine, leaving the attacking forces behind and staying home to defend that to which your heart has been entrusted.

I want you to hear my voice and know that nothing else matters but we two. To know that calmer, gentler times are on the horizon. Times safe from uncertainty and fear, loneliness and solitude.

I want you to accept my hand in yours and know that, from this moment forth, everything will be alright.

Plastic Hearts

A single crack is how it starts, ripping through our plastic hearts.
And as we scream and plead and beg, Our friends don’t know quite how much it hurts.
We learn to stop, learn to numb. Even if it is quite dumb.  
Never allowing one to get to close. For fear of an overdose.
Because when all you’ve learned to love can leave, You don’t know what to believe.
All I’ve ever known was pain, until I found the one who kept me sane. Ripping through our plastic hearts.
One day we were ripped apart, I and my dead heart.
But every cry and plead and beg, only casts us more into the dark. Ripping through our dead plastic hearts.


Every cut and every plead
Is always met with a need
Everyday and every way
I can feel my heart dying.
Fighting to stay, fighting to slay
All we’ve ever known is pain