If I'm being honest
I'm tired of being a poet.
I'm tired of findig meaning in everything from the lines of the sky to the cracks in the side walk
I'm tired of using extended metaphors to explain how overwhelmed or angry or sad I am 
I'm tired of immortalizing the people I love or hate in half assed lines of poetry
For once I would like a good day just to be a good day or a bad day just to be a bad day
A landscape to hold no higher meaning than to magnify the glory of existence
For the people I know to hold no cosmic significance in the fabric of time
I would like to sit and be quiet
To write and be at peace
For the storm to pass over
And to find some relief
This is not a game for me this is how I breathe and I am tired of having to hold meaning in every crack and every crevice
My poetic nature has become a menice in my tired skin
I'm tired of letting the light in
But this isn't something you quit
This is something you breathe
This is something you are
This is something you need
Even if it doesn't make sense all the time
This is the one true thing I know that's mine
My sense of rhythm and my sense of rhyme
And it isn't easy all the time
Because these days life moves faster than I've even known
Faster than I can process what I've been shown
These days it's easy to feel the weight of all of my time spent alone
My mind isn't home
I'm chilled to the bone
These days I'm tired of being tired and tired of writing about how tired I am
Like I'm six feet under but I'm not yet dead
Using poetic devices to say what's already been said
I'm tired of playing this game
Imortalizing name after name
I still feel the same
Even though I still keep writing
So what I'm trying to say is that I need poetry like I need water but sometimes if you drink too fast or you drink too deep you feel like you're drowning
Out to sea in familiar surroundings
It's astounding how tiring being a poet can be.

I dread the day,
The moment when
I take his hand.
And wish it was yours.
I have nightmares about
His kiss on my forehead,
My fake, plastered smile
Because of what's wrong.
Something forgotten, and lost, and replaced.  
And my guilt that I feel as
I remember.
How I let time slip
Through my fingers.
And I'll look up at his face,
Into his dear, kind eyes,
And my heart will scream.
Because my life will have become a song with a missing a verse.

I don't know how
To tell you why
The days move slow
And so do I
Drawn out in your parlor
I am drunk off a memory
I am drink off the thought of putting my fist straight through your head
I can't forget any word of what you said
Honest open I showed you my world and you promised
You promised
But I'm the one you wanted to fill the void no I'm not the one you needed
I was your toy
And the date is set
The bed is made
Your heart is set
And I shouldn't have stayed this long
I'm just too busy picturing a 1000 forms of revenge
While you're too busy talking about the lines of your new dress
Spinning twirling the focus of the party
You talk over me and I sit complacently ready to tear you apart
You took root in my heart and walked away time after time after time
But the difference is that I'm big enough to recognize what fault is mine
So I'm seasick listening to the harrowing details of your relationship with god
All your devoted disciples sit at your feet so isn't it odd that
My fingernails are digging into the inside of my palms
Isnt it strange that
I'm acting like something is wrong
But as you continue to spit **** to all our mutual friends at somebody else's birthday party
I've decided that I will let you have no part of me
And so it's 2am and I'm coming clean in your doorway
I'm a mess of track marks and contraditctions but all I can say is
You're not my fix
No you're not my fix anymore
You're not my fix
I'm not your girl anymore
The date is set but I'm not coming around
No I'm not coming around anymore.

I spend my days moving slowly along the kitchen floor
Singing softly and sweetly of the love I've never known
And as my song rises to the rafters I pray that one day it might reach you and with long spindling fingers fill the cracks of your body with the feeling you've always known in the center of your soul
Down to that secret place where all knowing grows and I pray that it spirals along your spine and out through your velvet eyes as you cry for the honest days wasted and numb on a drunken night
I pray that you find through the atmosphere my lyrics and melodies and that even when we are miles away you might sing back to me
We may never meet but darling I feel you in the blades of grass that grow from between the ribs of the earth
I feel you in that secret place in my sternum in colors of green and gold
And as the days pass may sunlight touch your skin as it touches mine
Gentle and breaking
So tender it makes you cry
I pray that that sun will come and tear you apart
so that you may be free of your walls
So that your body is no longer night
So that we may both learn to blossom in whatever season may come
Through fire and through seawater
May the feeling refine us
And bind us
In the spirit that surpasses all new and old
So brother please hear this song through the cracks of your wall
Lover please come down off the ledge and find that we are still all that we said we were when we were swollen and small
That we are all that we hoped we'd be when we were naked and filthy in the garden alone
Our father was angry but we did not yet know ourselves and we did not yet know the mess to be made
We are messes made by the good intent of apathetic friends
But darling as I move in the doorway I can promise that this feeling never ends
I don't know you yet but I will find you and feel you through the wind in the trees
With the voice of the spirit rolling freely through me
Can't you see?
As I'm singing to you
Can't you feel?
After the damage is done and they say there is nothing left to do
I will come rolling and ringing through you
And the divide will be no more
Alone together at last
clean on the kitchen floor.

This is the holiest form of love I will ever know.

We sit up late and talk **** and glass box confessionals
Of fallen men and angels and the space between our hands
And though we spit different brands of fire,
we still connect in between the flames,
In between our overgrown youth and the cracks in the fault lines of our teeth
Between our separate worlds we meet open and honest in your attic and seek to touch the places we previously could not  reach alone
And I am breathless in return
And you, fire eyed girl, speak in sonnets to the dark
You take the circles around your eyes and string them into free verse
Spilling free from the patterns in your blood
You fight within to take hold of the love that is all around you
Because it lives all around you
Love follows you like a dog nipping at your heels
Chasing you into the depths of your being where it fights you up in arms at the immensity and grandeur of it all
Love fights for you
And you'll let it win
And so we sit and talk up the last four years of hell like it was nothing
Though we both know it meant everything just the same
And on the drive home I'm overwhelmed by the lights
Overcome at the light within you
Tangled beautiful girl
I was called fire eyed too but yours is a different sort of flame
A different brand of light
And it burns bright in my memory on the way home.

There is a place in me that sleep cannot touch- a place in which I cannot breathe
I go to the same places, sing the same songs, make the same jokes and still I am expected to be full,
Bursting with light,
The ice in your drink.
But I'm okay
I promise I am
But I am trying to understand the great divide between nature and man
The chemicals in the boundaries that separate us when all I desperately need is to collide and combust
To exist within the boundaries I set
The order I ordain
To be able to breathe
As if every breath were the first
As if I could some how keep inside of me all of heaven and earth
As if I could be
As I am
To be in the present
Though presently I am losing my mind  
This all fades and breaks in time
And in time
I will return back to you
Retrace my steps go to the same places, sing the same songs, make the same jokes and this time I really will be full
Bursting with light
The ice in your glass.
But for now I am winter
and the ice that has cemented my lungs and that weighs down my eyes is all I can begin to feel
That and the place that sleep cannot touch- a place in which I cannot breathe.

Spoil me.
After all, I'm a vision wrapped in Writers block and winter storm warnings
falling apart on a Sunday night alone in my bathtub and I'm ready to be:
Yours.
If only for a week
Because the thought of you is killing me longing in a waltz tempo dancing across my winter skin
waiting for you to put your hand on my skin in the darkness on the fourth of July
Take me out of my head and into your arms
All tanned skin and light green eyes
Come on tear your teeth right through mine
Because I want you for this week and it's becoming hard to breathe in the absence of sanctuary in my body
After all,
It'll be cool till I disengage and retreat back into myself
It'll feel right until I can't look you in the eye or be by myself
But now I see you in pastel and in clean white and grey
The hand I sought to hold
The body I hungered to mold
The weight of the want
But I keep this inside of myself
Pin you up in poetry on my wall
I mean after all
this will only last until I cut it off
Until I cut myself off and box you away under my bed
Beautiful boy now a mere thought in my head
You will disappear because I will erase you
You will leave because I send you away
You will break because I bend you
This is all it can ever be
But for now it's gentle mid afternoon trips and cashmere shirts
Modern love notes and safety bricks
I'll reach for you if only to make you hurt because I'm afraid of myself
It doesn't make sense but for now it's how I know myself
And I know myself
So I build this up to let you go
I take the time and though you never know that I am fragile
So
be gentle with your hands
Bruise my skin and be my man
But I'll cut you off in the spring time and want you again in humidity
I am inconsistent and distant once you truly look inside of me
So please
If only for the week
If only for the car ride home
If only in the darkness of the movie theater
Spoil me.

The way you carry yourself is an art
Minimal clean and full of bravado
And as we walk through department store hell
I think I'm beginning to see you past first impression nausea
Past the want of my own skin
Last weekend came as fresh snow red wine and attitude
And though the roads were slick I couldn't keep my mind off of you
Grey green boy
Your scent lingers still even if you only stayed for an hour
I can feel you laughing in my ear light and warm
You quote song lyrics and smirk while the pastor drones on
I can feel you
even through the wall between our seats
I can feel you
And I wonder if you feel me too or if it's just another sort of sickness that comes with an overly romantic mind and a restless eye
Grey green boy I wanted you before you were mine
That is to say,
If you're ever mine
So for now you are art and I observe you
Through the museums of the millennial
Windows left open late at night
Longing is a mess.