11:12 on a Tuesday.
A moment when the wind stopped,
Buds popped,
Grass was chopped,
Bunnies hopped,
And my heart dropped.

11:12 on a Tuesday.
A moment when rivers spilled,
Snow was killed,
Birds trilled,
And my soul was filled.

11:12 on a Tuesday.
A moment when spring was delayed,
Children played,
Flowers swayed,
And whole, I was made.

you were but a baby bird trying to escape the nest of hatred,
you knew you couldn't fly,
but you still jumped, why?

i now sit alone in this nest of thorns,
im ******* ****** and bleeding.
the more i move the more mutilated i become.

im so ******* tired and i cant get any rest,
im stuck awake because of chirps of pain.
im so ******* tired

im terrified of what might happen next.
if i have to hear another bird hit the ******* ground i'll...
i wont do anything.

there's nothing i can do
i cant move or im mutilated
im stuck in a thorny nest and im so ******* tired.

Your kiss so sweet,
Your lips a snack,
When our lips meet, no sugar the lack,
Your lollipop tongue,
Your sour pucker,
I just can’t stop,
I’m such a sucker.

YOU ARE HERE. ON THIS SP(HERE), NOT S(FEAR) . SO DO NOT FEAR; THE DIFFERENT OR THE QUEER. KEEP THEM NEAR AND DEAR OR SHOVE IT UP YOUR ******* REAR.
DO NOT DIVIDE WHAT WE USED TO PRIDE. FOR WHICH PEOPLE HAVE DIED. THAT'S CALLED A BACKSLIDE. LIKE "GO TO THE BLACK SLIDE". DON'T PUSH THEM OUTSIDE BECAUSE YOU'RE HATING INSIDE.  THAT HATE IS JUST FEAR. BUT DO NOT HATE AND DO NOT FEAR.
BECAUSE YOU AND ME? WE. ARE. HERE.

My body grows weak from carrying this burden,
At first, a drop of water,
Now a cup of water,
  I try to hold it,
  My arms are tired,
  My burden is leaking,
I keep holding it,
I grow frail,
I need to let it go,
I can’t,
  So now I drown,
  In my own burden,

Please save me,
Hold my burden,
If only for the moment of one breath,
Hold my burden.

It's funny how you pull my hair,
How you tease me.
Its funny how "she doesn't care",
How much you really please me.
It's funny how I can't have you,
And how I never will.
It's funny how this is all true,
And how now it's going downhill.

I saw you walk by with a jar of stars,
As soon as I saw them I yearned for them, I needed them; I would not be complete without them.
I set out to find them. I waited all night, but the stars didn’t show.
So I looked the next night, now they glimmered.
I climbed up a tree and branched out my hands.
I stretched forth with all my strength, but I could not reach.
The night after that, I sat in defeat, until I saw you carrying your jars of stars.
I ran to you, hoping and praying you would reveal your secret.
As I approached I realized there were no stars at all.
The closer I came I saw that the jar was full of dying fireflies.
Their glow growing dim.
I took your jar and ****** it at the cement.
The fireflies flew, free.
I turned to you, my lip trembling.
“Therefore the love which us doth bind,
but fate so enviously debars,
is the conjunction of the mind,
and opposition of the stars.”


quote by: Andrew Marvell

On his shoulders are freckles like leaves,
Uncountable kisses he steals, he thieves,
His cinnamon beard soft as a feather,
He mends me with kisses, he holds me together.
He is truth in the love songs I hear,
He whispers sweet stories into my ear,
He makes me feel so lame and cliche,
I want him forever, not just a day.
He wraps my heart around his finger,
Upon my lips, his lovely lips linger,
I know each other is all we need,
And too, he knows, my mind he reads.
I long and yearn for our bright life,
Maybe, one day I'll be his wife,
But now we wait for the right time,
I can't wait until he's mine.

Let’s go scavenger hunting for puddles,
Find mysterious, rippled portals,
We’ll forget all our worries and troubles,
And pretend we were never mortals,
We never know exactly how deep,
Might be up to your waist,
Through our boots laughing splashes will seep,
Maybe once, it will cover your face.

I meet your gaze and try to define the boundless palpable energy that swells when our pupils align.
It elicits the sensation of a familiar comfort, such as running my fingers along the corrugated ribbon attached to my childhood stuffed animal, laced with the sentiment of intrepid adventure.
An immeasurable attraction that I imagine only the 'Big Bang' comes close to matching in intensity and preliminary growth.
I scavenge my mind trying to find the vocabulary adequate enough to even sprits the palate of emotion that could describe our eye contact; Holding each word to the light to see if it shines brightly enough.
Finally, I found it. Only a seed of the colossal forest. Still, it will do.
There is no way to translate the spirit of your glance, other than cosmic magnetism.

One day, L.A. I'll come back to play,
Watch palm trees sway and the ocean spray,
In the sun I'll lay, all ******* day,
Maybe I'll stay, get old and gray.
My memories fray, so now I say:
One day, L.A. I'll come back to play.

My feet grew heavy then still.
Around me gathered a field of sorrow.
Metallic roses and tulips gather to console bowed heads.
Long leaves began to shade my eyes.
One lonely laugh was heard,
A gust of wind lifted the curtains for only a moment;
In which a kite struck me, becoming intertwined in my leaves.
I could hear your strides come to a halt at my trunk.
You grabbed the end of the kite and tugged.
My branches didn't want to let go.
You yanked and pulled with all your might.


I became weak and hurt.
My branches unwillingly released the kite just as a burst of wind took you away with it.


Now I stand alone in a field of sorrow,
with sad limp branches.
Here I'll remain, surrounded by metallic tulips and roses,
never to be visited again by that bright kite.

It's as if i were watching it through a waterfall,
The memory, smeared in my brain,
There, but fragile your presence remains,
I recollect offering and exchanging moans,
Our breath playing tug-of-war between our lips,
In the morning, legs linked and our fingers spiraled.
The memory lingers, invading my mind,
Taunting me with the simple fact that I cant go back.