I need to be stripped and broken down.
pounded to pavement.
ashes to asphalt.

I need to relive a few wars
and lose a few battles.

(Bruise-battered eyes and blood-stained lips.)

I need to remember a heart race.
pick up pace.
Breathe a little harder... run until collapse.

fill lungs.

grit teeth.

e  x  p  l  o  d  e  .

let's reopen wounds
                       with rusty knives

what is life without loss?
happiness without hurt?

                                              
                                             P
I need to be roughed   U

... gunned D
                       O
                            W
                                N

Monotony kills much harder than bullets...
and it's the least poetic way to go...

I'd rather take a tumble; swallow the sea.
Jump out of a plane and never pull my shoot...

than die with no beat to my heart... no strength in my spine.... no purpose to my step....

feed me poison- just don't let me swallow my own tongue.

(August 28 2011)

I'm ready to run into open arms and be held,
but I'm beginning to fear that I need someone to hold me.

Perhaps I'm simply afraid of wasting away in empty rooms when I'd rather be bathing in the embrace of a beautiful boy.

I think being alone will be beautiful but not here, not now.

I just want to feel raw youth and untamed beauty racing through my veins.
I long to be inspired, to be unfiltered inspiration in the hands of another.

...

I don't want to write of romances; I want to live them.

(Nov 2008)

...

I feel as though my chest could cave in at any given moment, as though the only way I can relieve myself of this o v e r w h e l m i n g ..... W E I G H T is to write, to press my pen against the paper so firmly that I can no longer feel my fingertips, no longer feel any pressure except the trembling in my arms from my own efforts.

I feel as though my lungs are on the brink of collapse. I'm suffocating on my own foolish emotions... struggling to breathe in, breath out... to just BREATHE.

...

I tell myself that love is an impossible task; and unconquerable feat. (For we are all most certainly not without our vices...) However, this indescribable feeling that has embedded itself in my very being denies me the sweet escape of both cynicism and apathy.

I find myself overtaken with the strange and foreign knowledge that I Love You and nothing; not circumstance, nor situation; not time, nor distance; not life, nor even death could change that.

(May 2008)

Deja vu.
It's the reflection without the ripple.

It's knowing what you know now, and being 16 again.