It's so **** hard to
write when I've got so many
words and sounds and sights
clogging up my mind

Glittery snow wrapping me in a hug
the sensation of losing myself in music
hearing your beautiful voice echo in my ears

I WANT TO WRITE IN ALL CAPS
but my words come out in a meager lowercase

How am I supposed to write
when all thoughts filling my mind
are of you

And yet drowning
in them
is paradise

I never knew I was
living as an
untied shoelace
my whole life until
Fate knotted us together

I hope he did a
good job because
I never want
to leave your side

I never wanted to
become an addict.

I never even wanted to
take this drug, but
my brain begged me to,
fed it into my veins
against my will.

It sends me on bad trips
every time.

I scream at both
the living
and the dead
as they belittle me.

I trip out
almost every day.

My own mind is
my dealer.
I pay with fear
as it lights me up--
ignites my worries.

My heart bangs
against its cage.
It can't take much more.

But I know
I won't quit.

I know this lifestyle
will **** me eventually.

I didn't know
what to make of you
the first time we met.

You have one of those faces
that makes me feel like
I've seen you before--
on TV, in a movie,
someone famous.

Your jokes and quick wit
had me convinced that
I'd befriended a comedienne
when first getting to know you,

but upon learning more about you,
I realized you are more of
a renowned poker player,
somehow able to make
the hand you were dealt
into something valuable.

Like Mr. Gorbachev,
you listened to Reagan:
you tore down the walls
that confined you--
that people used
to define you--
and used them
to remind you
just how fortunate you are.

Like the rest of today's celebrities,
you are penning your own story.

In the gleam
of the sun's rays
reflecting against
the lake's surface,
I see the sparkle
of your light blue eyes.

In the setting
of the sun,
too bright to
look at for too long,
I see your golden hair
through stolen glances.

In the curvature
of the moon--
a bright, white crescent tonight--
I see your radiant smile
on my walk back home.

In the writing world,
they say it's no good
to only see one muse,
but since I met you,
my vision's never been clearer.

It's true that
I'm known for causing
people to cry
from peeling away
at my many layers,

but what people
don't realize
is that
it's not always easy
bouncing back from every
tear and rip and tampering
of my being--

careless cooks and
****** shoppers taking pieces of me
that won't ever
fully heal.

But I know that
one day
a good grocery shopper
will come along
and appreciate
all the layers of me
in order to create
something beautiful.

A gentle whisper
rattles grass blades one by one.
Domino effect.