Hand me that pistol
don't let it go off in your clutches

Give me the ammo
stay and watch me load

The first few pops
shake me out of my skin

Sweat pouring down my forehead
I feel like losing control

Nervous as a first date
hard to draw a bead

Okay, gently squeeze
the trigger, count... one two, three

You once said
that beneath this flesh of mine
are worlds and galaxies and universe
and ideas waiting to get out.

But boy, you are so wrong,
how can I tell you that within me
are not galaxies, but ghosts and demons
and dead souls wanting to get out?

i've always been a liar.

did you know i can't lie to you?

i cant do it.

i am a wonderful liar, i think i was born with it.

my talents are wasted on your captivating soul.

i can't lie to you, it hurts me. i don't know how.

how did you make me feel these things?
i honestly thought i was some kind of sociopath,
and you came along and made me feel.

she's not mad at him
she place all blame on herself
they both agreed; only friends with benefits
she can't change the way he feels about her
so why does she put herself directly
in the line of fire

even if it may sooth the urge
for just a little while
maybe she'll add an extra
splash of red or pink
to her lips enticing him
to pucker up

she doesn't want to be alone yet she knows
he is just her imaginary substitute
a fake smile, holding back her tears,
and walking away into her cave of loneliness
will the lights of love ever come on for her
or will she be sitting in the dark forever?

the count of monte cristo
sounds so much better after two
glasses of sweet wine, the rim
resting gently against chapter 5

“This philosophic reflection,” thought he, “will make a great sensation at M. de Saint–Meran’s;” and he arranged mentally, while Dantes awaited further questions, the antithesis by which orators often create a reputation for eloquence.

How great this will make me look, in other words,
this fine comparison between two similar things.
and I find myself smiling, like one would over
the renewal of past lovers, past books
the direct gaze of persons no longer
strangers, beneath waterfalls
wings spread
vaguely vulnerable
and somehow
liberated.