photograph One:
i see you, and the first things i see are your dark eyes
you sit beside me with open hands and make me laugh over coffee.

photograph Two:
one night i notice your mouth. you haven't drank but i have.
still all i see are your eyes when you first lean in.
i'm aroused and utterly haunted.

photograph Three:
you're so pale i want to colour you in. i want to make you alive.
you're dancing so frenetically, my marionette man
and i can't tell who tugs the strings.

photograph Four:
It's after midnight and you've stormed from my house snarling
like a wolf waiting to die.
"i'm poison" you spit. "i'll poison you, too".
"you and me." i plead. "i won't run".

photograph Five:
it's a cloudy day. you tell me you love me without looking me in the eye.

photograph Six:
you're standing in the open doorway against winter wind
dragging a half-quit cigarette and i am hugging my knees on your couch
waiting for you to calm
our eyelashes smeared chilly with tears.

photograph Seven:
you are lying on the floor, heaving with sobs.
i am holding you as tight as i can because i don't know what to do
and i'm afraid if i let you go you will cremate in the heat of your darkness
already we are both husks.

photograph Eight:
we lie awake in your cold bed and we are strangers
you will not touch me and i feel naked.

photograph Nine:
i awoke at 4am from a dream of you that was a lie
many months after i fled from your ghost
and like an infected wound
it still throbs hotly that i could not save you
and that for so long i could not save myself from you
the dark-eyed boy with the angel tattoo

falling is a weird sensation
I've never failed to fall, tripping on the curb of your hip
more over, I've never failed to fall for you,
that first autumn back lit morning,  the day you caught my eye
and the past is a funny game. i made my move ,
never can i step back to change my ways
and yes...yeh..it hasn't been easy
and no...never, would i ever change it,
because  the rapids of my home river have shaped the boat in which i use to sail, my soul has been carved from limestone cliff faces dangled over by tight lipped trees to tired to give me their secrets you are..
you are a thought. a being I've never come by before
your a bend in the river where the current slows..
your a cliff face with my name carved into it,
even though I've never once taken a knife to your surface
you are comfort,
like looking into a mirror i see myself, and for the first time in my life
for the very first time..
I've looked into a mirror and smiled
and sweet heart I'm going too look into your eyes
and say softly that I'm glad,
I'm glad your a mountain that's already been climbed I'm glad its not my flag that rests in the arrow like crest of your ginger scrawled hair I'm glad
because the men who charge to summits leave nothing but a flag
and some foot prints
i want to be the man for you, the man who climbs your peaks daily..
the one who makes sure your looked after,
a forest ranger to preserve your sanity, to make sure your soul although fractured and aching.
can roam free,
but I've ranted now,
ill sign of my love letter with but a drip of blood,
and a Liter of love,
continue your course sweet heart and you wont need to steal  the chest that houses my heart
ill give you the key
*LG

I met you one day
You were dating my best friend
I never took a double take
When you broke up
I looked at you clearly for once
And this time, I couldn't look away
We talked a bit more
You made me smile and laugh
Then we shared that kiss...
If she ever found out
She would **** us both
But at least I would have you
She found out that day
Called us names
And you became distant
I spilled everything
I said I loved you
But all you said was, "I feel complicated"
Excuse after excuse
But I can't stop loving you
I can't stand this pain anymore
Tell me how you feel!
Don't push me away...
I can't stand....
Us feeling
*Complicated

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

Please
           don't
                   go
for
     I
       Love
                 you
                        So
My
      Mind
               is  
                  failing
but
      my
           heart
                    is
                        falling
for you
                                      *LG

My, my, my* -
My body knows
That you are not here.
It's tired, it's restless -
It needs your *******
Pressed up against it;
Your thigh tucked in
Between both of mine.

I don't miss you -
I need you.
My body knows
And I have a fever.