And I'll learn to hold my pen tighter,
to make my words larger,
to paint my colors brighter,
gazing at the moon harder,
with my face paler,
like the sun has never met me.
And the stars will fall lower,
closer and closer to my heart,
trying to pierce through it
and set my soul free from this cage of flesh and blood,
when all it wants is to swim
deeper and deeper
into the waves of the sky
that is staring back at me every  night.
And if the ground shall claim me,
holding me back with its roots,
space dust shall come
and take me home-
a home where limits are foolish
and eternity rules above our meek eyes,
shadowed by the fog of human superiority.
And the curtains shall rise
and in the midst of the show,
I might find myself floating through millions of lives
I never asked for.
I only wished
to know my place.
I only wished
not to want to be saved,
for once.

You are indefinable,
perfectly perplexed between a periapse of compassion
you are..
the light between colors, that blends everything together,
you are the smell of cooking spices and the strut of  a supermodel
you have the smile of an angel, the cheek of a demon
you are a time capsual of happiness and a roving epiphany of delinquent change.
a goddess of chaos and order squished between two slices of cute and served with a side order of Mine
so smile sweet heart, brighten those chameleon eyes
let those lips make points at either side
let your hair hang losely over that speckled forhead
that serves as a runway for my kisses
smile sweetheart.
I love you

*LG

some people think about their poetry
I know many do,
to make sure the  the 3rd and 4th rhyme
to make sure all there lines sing in time
But I have no time for that
Im thousands of years old but bearly 17
so ill blurt
and ill slur
and ill cringe
and ill howl
and ill snip
and ill snap
and splurt
and curse,

I'll walk my fingers to the key board and take of their leashes,
let them run wild in the dog park of my sanity
my ramblings,
they don't need any s
                                      t
                       ­              r
                                   u
                                  c
                           ­          t
                                       u
                                          r
                   ­                          e, nor do my sentences need to make sense
why would I conform To YOUR insanity
when I have my own band brewing like a bathtub bomb
Nothing I say needs to work as hard as my hands do
nothing I need to do should feel as heavy as the souls i carry in my
broken-strapped-bad-backed-back-pack
my alliteration literally doesn't need to alliterate its meaning
and I'm so Tired of Ideas being steam pressed into my head by the maid
that runs this mad house
you'll need to use your hands to eat this poem , I've turned the cutlery
into toy soldiers and their currently occupied in overseas service
so dig into my mind
ill open the front door for you just please remember before you
scoop out my brain
w
  a
   s
    h

       y
         o
           u
             r

                 h
                   a
                     n
                       d
                           s
    
*LG

A Reader lives
A thousand lives
Before he dies.
The man who
Never reads
Lives only one.