I met you in the dark
Around one a.m.
You looked like a star that had just fallen
Ready to take my soul.
You got into my car,
Your aroma filled my head with
Lilacs and candle wicks.
Your eyes heavy set from the day,
As black as rare diamonds.
You embraced me and my heart sunk
Down to the depths of the ocean
Where no one knows what lies.
I felt like the air had vanished
And my lungs were crying out.
You kissed me
And my body began to rise
As if I were a ghost.
For I had to keep telling myself
"This must be real."
Your touch, your taste,
I felt as if I had turned into dust
And was flown over the world.
You liberated my soul,
Rather than destroying it.
All I can say,
Is I am happy you have returned to me.
For now I am no longer an empty shell,
I have become as light as air.

May my adversaries be strong,
     so I may become stronger

May luck be against me,
     so I may learn to be certain

May fate present no opportunities,
     so I may forge my own

May I never succeed,
     so I may live to my fullest potential

May I reach perfection,
     Through my resolve.

every time i write
i just don't know
what to do
how to go
how to get it started
what to write about
think about
express
share
with others
and see who cares
what's going to connect
what is rare
what makes someone stare
so hard at the screen
and be locked in
visually
mentally
imagining
everything they see
each word bleeds in your brain
and brings you to a new universe
you don't remember where you are
other than there
that's what i want to write
what i'm trying to express
just living my life
and trying to get success
but the bar i set
is hard to measure
i want greatness
i want pleasure
most of all
i want peace
knowing
and needing
and being
with someone
who makes me happy
even if it's myself
i just want some help
something to get me through
and that's why i write
not for the people who will read it
or to showcase my skills
i just do whatever
and hope it kills
i live for this
especially

Today, for the first time, I looked at my mother. Really looked at her. I've been watching her for years. I know her habits, the way her face slackens when she's mad. I watch the way she is in the world and I know who she is, what she feels like, how she smells; but until today, I couldn't have told you what she looks like. She is beautiful. Breathtaking. It's Christmas and the house is warm, glowing, smells like food. We had company and she was flitting about, kitchen to couch, apron wrapped around her fancy dress. No stockings or shoes. She was waving her arms, twiddling her fingers around her wineglass, rubbing her feet together, always in motion. Her face slid so easily into a smile, creases outlining her happiness. Strong features: a big nose, defined chin, high cheekbones, easily visible because of her short hair. My mother is not a small woman, nor is she big, but she stands tall with broad shoulders, mine now the same, and her presence is colossal. I could see the 20 some year old that my father fell madly in love with. Gorgeous. Strong. But at the same time, so soft. Every part of her nurtures. I sat in awe, stunned that I had not noticed that she was once so much more than Mom. Still is.

the mirror is a ghost
that reflects black eyes
brought by your own hands.
tiny pupils in an iris of badly mixed paint.
you are a ghost
without the desire to haunt.
no desire to *****.
or creep up to the boy in the dark hallway
and yell 'boo!'.

every breath, he takes as your own.
his every move could be your demise.
he gives you your flesh back when
he holds you and kisses you,
even when you know he doesn't like to kiss.
he is your pale skin,
your fat thighs and freckles.
he is everything about you,
from your strange secret habits,
to your most embarrassing
**** beach runs, that can
only be remembered
through the tales of others.
he is all of you now
and you know it's a terrible
                                                  terrib­le
                                                              ­  terrible thing.

but the mirror never lies and now you are dust.
ashes to ashes.
your tongue covered in residue from the 70mg
of ****** taken.

but through the calm you wish you had his hand
to brighten your eyes and flesh once more
with just that crooked smile and deep blue eyes
that will never, never, never cease to intoxicate you.

but every night as his soul leaves,
to adventure planes in dreams you could never imagine,
that even by his side, without him there,
forever will you remain but the dust form of an empty human.

I'm strung out on you.
I'm intoxicated with the way
you make me feel.
I tingle when I think about it.
Your scent unhinges me.
Completely.
The warmth of ecstasy
vibrates in my core.
I am high when I am
near you.
Adrenaline rushes through
me like *******.
The sensation of your touch
unfolds me like a map
to the origin of pleasure.
Your words stroke me
and make my body bend,
twist and shake.
Under your hand I
contort and shiver.
You make me quiver.
You grab me and
swivel my hips.
My eyes roll back and
I bite my lip.
Like ******
time does not exist
when you are in me.
Your caress is like ketamine
I can not feel my extremities.
There is no ceiling.
There is no floor.
The way you move me
makes me your *****.
Like MDMA  your
embrace makes my
heart race.
You take me on a
ride that I can not escape.
The ****** is like
sitting on a speaker in space.
Your deep base line
makes my spine roll.
The loss of control
feels like a k hole.
I inhale you .
You envelop me
internally.
You have full control
of my body
Without you I am sober.
Without you I am
waiting for more.
I need another hit of you.
I'm strung out on you.

I can be your liquor.
Drink me down and feel the high.
Its you and I and whatever happens tonight.
The blurred lines and the euphoric fright
of getting into all of our passions.
I can be your liquor.
Fill you up with anger, disgust.
The feelings lost to the alcohol distrust.
The forgotten happy with I and lust
now in the midst of solving our problems.
I can be your liquor.
When its winter, spring, summer.
I can be that go to spirit to hear your thunder.
That happy go lucky, feelings without the blunders
Only memories that follow.
I can be your liquor.
Take me down and love me.
I can be the death of you,
or merely just an addiction.

I treasure those eyes the best, so lovely each night. Long lashes fluttering with your trademarked twisted elegance. I trace your skinny hips and kiss your scarlet  lips, we lay  close and and whisper across the quiet divide. I sit  inhaling smoke and exhaling pretty words that roll off the tip of my tongue, sliding down the floor boards. Drinking, spinning in sickly sweet light. I can tell  them, always trusting the people I meet, dancing to the sweet spot. Wicked am I, missing the saunter of those long lovely  legs. Trapped a loop of taunting, teasing laughter. We all talk crazy, tangled and comfortable in each others hair, this is the closest to perfection I've ever been.