I do not want peace
Peace allots for too much time to think
I do not wish for wisdom
I have been trapped inside my head for far, far too long
I do not seek joy
It is fleeting and insubstantial
I do not require hope
I have plenty to spare, thank you

What I crave in the depths of my being is chaos
What I desire is life lived fully
I want to dance upon the rims of volcanoes
I wish for thunderstorms
Crashing upon my bare feet
I seek sunlight peeking through greenly leaves
I require adventure and extraordinary ordinaries
                 I want to breathe

Please, do not ask me about love
It is not for lack of willingness
But I do not know it
I have been a little too sheltered
A little too isolated to know it
Some tell me it it painful
"Be grateful"
It appears to be fickle
And often quick to depart
When it finds me
I pray that it is substantial and understanding
and worth it

Please do not ask me about love
I have yet to meet him

She is not merely a bookworm
She does not read for pleasure
She reads to survive
She reads to distract herself
She reads to thrive
Her words do not collect dust upon the shelf.
She is a devour-er of books
Ink drips from her lips as she tries to
Contain the words that she bleeds
She exhales chaotic eloquence
Her tongue wrestles to wrap around words more
consumed than heard
Her mind races to find that one perfect
syllable to turn her phrase from
biting and bitter to
savory yet sarcastic
Her smirk is merely a collapsing floodgate
Words will soon flood free
Watch her eyes, you'll see
She is not merely a bookworm

Words. They won't stop
and I'm feeling nauseous because
the words won't  stop
and my brain will not let me be until I drain it of every drop of thought, squeezed from exhausted me and they are spilled upon the pages like a crime scene and
they will not stop
until all the wrongs become right and all the ink in my veins bleeds dry.
Words. They won't stop.
I feel as though they will crawl their way up my throat and scatter themselves carelessly upon the pages if I do not write them fast enough. They haunt me with their beauty and will consume me if I let them, swallow me within their inky depths and block out the sunlight. Words. They just won't stop.

Go, throw yourself into the sea.
Let the sky catch your cares.
Let the wind wipe your tears.
Let the waves caress your skin.
Let the water catch your fall and lift you up
until the sun kisses your face.
Not all is lost when thrown into the sea.

Man has always been drawn to the ocean.
Drawn to lose himself in the
            vastness
Only to be pulled back to shore
Back to the mediocrity
To bake the moment of clarity
He found in the crashing of the waves
From his skin as it reddens in shame.