I want to be your 911 and your favourite childhood blanket and I want to be your goodnight instead of your goodbye.
I want to be your favorite pair of shoes and the air beside you so that I'm always next to you and I know you're comfortable.  
I want to be my parents' "I knew she could do it" instead of their "she's not trying hard enough."
I want to be my friends' safety net and not their other 24hour emergency hotline-dial-me-when-you-need-me. I am not temporary.
I want to be a girl who smiles because the world engraved laugh lines in her gentle face and not a happy pill trapped mistake.

But I will never be those things.
I will never be those things because, in your eyes I will be the last cigarette in every pack that smells and tastes so good, but hurts your chest in the most unforgivable way.
But I will never be, for you.

It will be different with different people and it will be different at different times. If love really grows, this is the way: first you fall in love with the woman because her body is beautiful. That is the first available beauty - her face, her eyes, her proportion, her elegance, her dancing, pulsating energy. Her body is beautiful. That is the first approach. You fall in love.

Then after a few days you start going deeper into the woman. You start loving her heart. Now a far more beautiful revelation is coming to you. The body becomes secondary; the heart becomes primary. A new vision has arisen, a new peak. If you go on loving the woman, sooner or later you will find there are peaks beyond peaks, depths beyond depths. Then you start loving the soul of the woman. Then it is not only her heart - now that has become secondary. Now it is the very person, the very presence, the very radiance, the aliveness, that unknown phenomenon of her being - that she is. The body is very far away, the heart has also gone away - now the being is.

And then one day this particular woman's being becomes far away. Now you start loving womanhood in her, the femininity, the feminineness, that receptivity. Now she is not a particular woman at all, she simply reflects womanhood, a particular form of womanhood. Now it is no longer individual, it is becoming more and more universal. And one day that womanhood has also disappeared - you love the humanity in her. Now she is not just a representative of woman, she is also a representative of man as much. The sky is becoming bigger and bigger. Then one day it is not humanity, but existence. That she exists, that's all that you want - that she exists. You are coming very close to God.

Then the last point comes - all formulations and all forms disappear and there is God. You have found God through your woman, through your man. Each love is an echo of God's love.

Osho

A sound goes off from the other room.
oh boy who's coming in to see me?
should I play it cool with a glance,
or abandon myself belly up?
Here she comes,
and goes.
that **** smelly thing
I get this a lot.
if I could I'd break that coffee ***.
Here he comes,
oh yes,
I'll get this going.
my tail should work,
faster, faster, and a look him in the eye
But the door opens.
"Out.  Go ***."
always the same, "go ***"
be grateful your spot is inside
Open door.
person on couch!
oh boy!
it's my turn!
man, I love you
please scratch here, yes here
and this is the life
So forgiving,
no matter
how we make them wait.

pain killer after pain killer.

oh baby girl, you know better than that.

pain killer after pain killer.

*oh baby girl, you know the sadness never dies out.

But can you love me in the deep? In the dark? In the thick of it?
Can you love me when I drink from the wrong bottle and slip through the crack in the floorboard?
Can you love me when I’m bigger than you, when my presence blazes like the sun does, when it hurts to look directly at me?
Can you love me then too?
Can you love me under the starry sky, shaved and smooth, my skin like liquid moonlight?
Can you love me when I am howling and furry, standing on my haunches, my lower lip stained with the blood of my last ****?
When I call down the lightning, when the sidewalks are singed by the soles of my feet, can you still love me then?
What happens when I freeze the land, and cause the dirt to harden over all the pomegranate seeds we’ve planted?
Will you trust that Spring will return?
Will you still believe me when I tell you I will become a raging river, and spill myself upon your dreams and call them to the surface of your life?
Can you trust me, even though you cannot tame me?
Can you love me, even though I am all that you fear and admire?
Will you fear my shifting shape?
Does it frighten you, when my eyes flash like your camera does?
Do you fear they will capture your soul?
Are you afraid to step into me?
The meat-eating plants and flowers armed with poisonous darts are not in my jungle to stop you from coming. Not you.
So do not worry. They belong to me, and I have invited you here.
Stay to the path revealed in the moonlight and arrive safely to the hut of Baba Yaga: the wild old wise one… she will not lead you astray if you are pure of heart.
You cannot be with the wild one if you fear the rumbling of the ground, the roar of a cascading river, the startling clap of thunder in the sky.
If you want to be safe, go back to your tiny room — the night sky is not for you.
If you want to be torn apart, come in. Be broken open and devoured. Be set ablaze in my fire.
I will not leave you as you have come: well dressed, in finely-threaded sweaters that keep out the cold.
I will leave you naked and biting. Leave you clawing at the sheets. Leave you surrounded by owls and hawks and flowers that only bloom when no one is watching.
So, come to me, and be healed in the unbearable lightness and darkness of all that you are.
There is nothing in you that can scare me. Nothing in you I will not use to make you great.
A wild woman is not a girlfriend. She is a relationship with nature. She is the source of all your primal desires, and she is the wild whipping wind that uproots the poisonous corn stalks on your neatly tilled farm.
She will plant pear trees in the wake of your disaster.
She will see to it that you shall rise again.
She is the lover who restores you to your own wild nature.

i once came across
a young lad
who asked
if there is a band aid
for a broken soul

to his question
i remained silent
it was quite unusual
yet it was brave
and it was what reality is

that was the moment i knew
no such thing exists
for a broken soul
can only be mended by
the love he never knew

In Hamburg I loved
A strange girl,
She put my whole being
In a whirl,

She spurned everybody
But me,
I made her happy,
In Hamburg.

But if she had
Spurned me,
I'd have looked her in the eye,
And run away,

And in my room,
I would have cried,
I might even have died,
In Hamburg.