She said
she wanted to be a work of art,
so she painted on her skin with a blade.
Red was always her favorite color.
She's dead, only alive in my head.
And she only visits me in my sleep,
as the most beautiful work of art.

My eyes are curtained,
clouded by the heavy sounds,
shaded by the lack of clouds
and the purity of the endless sky.
Unfathomable space depth,
unfathomable water depth,
unfathomably tall trees,
looming, watching over me.

The feeling is dark green,
clean after endless rain,
dark after daytime pain,
rich and full and soft,
enveloping me, swallowing me,
lifting me to meet the stars
while I gaze into the unfilled void of eternity.
the stars want to know what the ground is like,
I tell them that their whispers of thoughts,
and their silent eyes,
and their blanket of mystery is much better
than the souls that aren't allowed to be themselves.
It's better when my eyes are curtained,
because then I can see the sky.

i want to stand in a glass room,
i want to levitate, i want to be in the sky
i want to be surrounded by darkness,
and i want to scream.
no words, but full of meaning.
i want to scream all of the things that i’ve kept inside,
somethings that i don’t even know of
find their way deep into my stomach,
and i need them out,
i need them out because my hands can’t contain them anymore,
and my mind can’t contain them anymore,
i can’t move fast enough to write them all down.
why do people write like they're running out of time?
because they are,
there is no feeling like the feeling that im feeling right now,
this feeling of a galaxy exploding inside of me,
i don’t want to be contained,
i want to be bigger than my body,
i want to be the bass that shakes the ground,
i want to be the voice that is the sound of freedom,
i don’t need to advocate,
i just need to feel,
i don’t want technical terms,
i don’t want words.
words aren’t enough
NOTHING IS EVER ENOUGH
I NEED MORE TO EXPRESS WHAT I CAN'T CONTAIN
*nothing is ever enough
i need more to express what i can’t contain

absolutely,
completely,
utterly
free.
no such thing.
but i can pretend,
i can pretend to not care
and can take out my hair,
and dance like a drunken matt healy onstage,
i can scream like janis joplin,
i can **** those guitar solos like hendrix or prince,
i don’t even play guitar, but i can pretend.
i can blast the music that makes my heart tight,
that makes my skin too tight,
that makes my body a limitation to my mind
and my feeling.
i need a place where i cannot be contained.
i need a place where i can be
absolutely,
completely,
utterly
free.
no such thing.

soft lavender skies
hollow wind chimes
calm, bright eyes
warm coffee and bare thighs
indoor heating
oatmeal eating
close, ****** seating
quiet breath
fathomless depth
crescent moon and breathing chest
my head laying on your breast
cloudy, white walls
purple dew, blue sky, you're tall
cold wooden floors,
on which I am sprawled
paint splatter, slow chatter
silent, happy laughter
thoughts of harmless disaster
my happily ever after

The sky is more blue
through the tint of my glasses,
and the grass seems softer
after the rain

You say you love the view
from this garden,
and I say so do I,
but I'm looking at you

You say that you can hear my heartbeat,
I say yes, for your head
is on my chest
and my breathing is slow,
we're both at rest.
And you tangle your fingers
around my neck,
and I tangle my fingers
in you hair.

And I"m looking down at you
your forest colored eyes,
and your lips, very pink
maybe more so through the tint of my glasses
but pink all the same.

I think I'd like to kiss you right now,
But it's not the right time, and I don't know how.
I don't want to let you go,
and I think I'd like to know your soul