Tiny little half moons,
four of them
in the palm of my hand.

Belonging with you is
Not about being happy
Or sad or calm or
Excited.
I live by your side
That I might not merely
live but **thrive.

Please, world
Stop causing pain to those
Who try so hard
To be perfect and normal.

It's the people around them;
These 'normal', 'perfect' people,
The ones who cause the pain

Who ******* well deserve it.

In this moment,
My head hurts;
It feels like nails,
And I'd quite like,
To not be breathing,
If it meant no pain.

of pure insecurity
is feeding itself
the tattered remains of my control.

Everything is cracking,
Splintering and crumbling.
Underneath me.
My eggshell of an existence,
lost its life,
when the child within,
grew up.

I am high of life.
I'm jumping up and down to a song
that I made up in my head
and life is ******* awesome.

Be in my bubble,
Let's listen to lousy music
And kiss

I woke up from a dream
Of being entwined with you
And thought that,
When I opened my eyes,
It was all real.
So I leaned over, to kiss
Your shoulder
And the cold half
Of my bed
Kissed back.

How can other people be completely calm?

some days,
we wake up,
and we cannot
be brave.

**** this.

shadows are falling,
clouds and people and buildings and trees
crowd all around us as our stomachs crawl
from the graves we dug ourselves early,
just in case we need them.
*we do.

Talking like we used to do
It was always me and you
Shaping up and shipping out
Check me in and check me out

Do you like walking in the rain?
When you think of love, do you think of pain?
You can tell me what you see
I will choose what I believe

Hold on, darling
This body is yours,
This body is yours and mine
Well hold on, my darling
This mess was yours,
Now your mess is mine

Your mess is mine

See you in the marketplace
Walking 'round at 8am
Got 2 hours before my flight
Luck be on my side tonight

You're the reason that I feel so strong
The reason that I'm hanging on
You know you gave me all the time
Or did I give enough of mine?

Hold on, darling
This body is yours,
This body is yours and mine
Well hold on, my darling
This mess was yours,
Now your mess is mine
Oh
Now your mess is mine
Oh
Your mess is mine

Bring me to your house
And tell me "sorry for the mess"
Hey, I don't mind
You're talking in your sleep
All the time
Well, you still make sense to me
Your mess is mine

Your mess is mine
This body's yours and this body's mine
Your mess is mine

Dead weight.
Toxic.
Soft.
Breakable.
We built our waterways out of it.
For decades.
A flow of toxins.
Much like emotion.

At our fingertips, we have all the knowledge that we, as a species have collected. Billions of facts, millions, of observations, thousands of random little websites designed to educate or entertain.

But we spend our days and nights and days again talking to other people online; because no amount of facts or knowledge or little titbits of information could ever make up for a touch of human contact.

I want to be happy, so badly.
It hurts other people though.

the world outside has a sheet of quiet
floating down on top of it.
the world we have created for ourselves
is small,
and temporary,
but it is *ours.