Jeg ser sorte toner for øjnene
og mærker skarpe genstande mod blød hud
når du fortæller mig, du ikke længere synes,
du er min
jeg lader natten drage mig ind i ulykkelig poesi
du kysser hendes læber
imens jeg går i opløsning indeni

I'm having this recurring nightmare
nightmare as others see it
amid the wandering minds
that refuse to be slaves
from the deceiving vision
of the real world.

Delightful, it is
to be with sincere beings
who find such beauty
behind faults that I crave
so madly to fade out,
looking closely into my eyes,
exploring my deepest core
of countless untold stories.

"This isn't your paradise,
this isn't a place to hide,
not even a place to cure the pain
that burnt deep inside,"
whispered a voice unfamiliar
caressing my helpless body,
thrusting it to a never-ending hole,
inviting me to an eternal sleep.

To awake is now everything I grieve.

How do I reply
When asked the question
Of what is true beauty?

I can't seem to answer
It's not because I don't know
Nor that I'm unsure.

How can you put words to real beauty?
Real beauty is a feeling.
An emotion that dwells in the heart.

Like the music notes to musicians.
Like paint to an artist.
Or words to a poet.

As well as that smile of a partner.
The laugh of a small child.
Or the joyous tears of a precious moment.

True beauty is based on one's desires.
Like my desire to make my world,
Built out of words and poems.

Coloring the world
With the black and white hues
Of letters typed out on a screen.

So when asked what is true beauty,
There's only one true answer...

Just look into your heart.

High school high,
from over there.
Mechanical hips,
wire hair.

Low count sheets,
cigarette burns.
All alone,
I have learned.

Initiate
what you will,
we chase love
until it's killed

****** winds
across my room
as I sleep,
my body blooms

On repeat,
my hurt is blue
don't feel bad
you can hurt me, too.

I've lost the faith
that I never had.