Must be on another planet
No way Earth has this much pull
Gravity serves a purpose
But it's dragging me down to hell
No one believes me-
When I talk or when I write
So what's the point?
Trying to avoid the knife
Don't have the luxury to repress notions
Depressing emotions
Could fill an entire ocean
Can't numb them with numbers
Cause I don't have the cash
So it's a roller coaster of black back-to-back
Cause if I had access to excess
The demons would go to sleep
And I could create something dissonant and harsh
Like only a freak would know how
But elation never lasts
Only my head which inflates like a balloon
But never stops until it reaches the moon
But it's already been there,
Says the craters on my skin
Now it's bound there like Prometheus
A wo-man outstretched like a star
But never to shine like one

I am a masculine goddess
I am a patriarch with an unborn child
I am a black sheep with the wings of a swan
I am not graceful, I am not ******
When you find me most amusing, I'll use you as my muse
When you play games with me, I'll pretend I don't have a clue
I am everything and I'm nothing
I know everything and I know nothing
I'm never in bloom; but I'm not the thorn you ***** your finger on
I grow like weeds, pretty in color, that you feel the need to destroy,
But I keep coming back
You try to stick me in maze while you harvest the corn
But I recognize the seasons of both sowing and reaping
I'm a crooked tree with branches reaching out towards the sun
I know the end will come, I know all things are one
Spirituality turns me on, and I can smell black magic a mile away
I know the art of getting by
And I know how to feed the fire with words spoken from a pure heart-
This is my gun with many bullets and only one chamber
This is me-
I live and die through each and every moment....
You can always visualize your revisions.
But you can't revise your visions.

Cold all the time
Even in the warmth
Anemia or ghosts hovering?
Would explain the attraction to fire
Why couldn't I be a gambler
Or a midnight rambler
Have a good disease
Instead it's you, him, her, them
My disease is other people
I infect and make them addicts to my tear ducts
Fear hides and ducks, but it's always here

I met you at the pier, and your shadow was red, but the contrast of the blue ocean made me feel symmetrical in the moment. You made me feel like quiet was the new loud; that this wasn't going to be "kiss and tell," even if there was a lack of fireworks in a dark room but mention of them on paper in harsh daylight. I never heard your heartbeat. Was that a sign? Cause when I finally felt it I felt the void in you, which in turn made me feel the void in me. Still, I didn't think your heart was capable of binding me like you bound your notebooks. But you mixed the chemicals right. And I do remember drowning, both voluntary and not. Just like I remember the eels. Just like I remember the cold. Just like I remember hearing the celebration above with a mouthful of salt. I've always been a fish out of water. So maybe I belong with the M.D.'s.

He sang, "Soul mates never die"
And I thought of why
I never deserved one like you
We were far from perfection
We avoided the reflection
That the outside world at us threw
But I want you to know
You're the closest I ever came
To knowing how it feels to be alive
Even at my lowest you made me feel high
And he sang, "Love is watching someone die"
And I thought about all the bleak hospital stays
But also of how you held my hand through all my little deaths
Lending me your spirit through each and every breath
And now that we're at the peak of the ultimate test
I want to promise you that if you need sleep, I'll give you rest
If you need passion, I'll give you all my fire
If you crave a quick fix, I'll quench your desires
If you need friendship, I'll give you love
I'll always give you love, cause that's how it began
We don't have to define ourselves or play pretend
We shouldn't have to care if to others we don't make sense
Cause we both know the puzzle pieces fit
We are both losers, weirdos and misfits
And the world will never know our story
Cause we are entwined through shame and through glory

There once was a war between magic and religion. And for awhile, religion won...But hidden in plain sight, hidden in suburbia, are sorcerers. They'll talk to your pets. Pinch your arm. Persuade you to buy a certain brand of cigarettes. They'll leave you tokens. They'll give you clues. They'll wear your clothes. They'll break into your house and move things around just to freak you out. All in coded language. Everything is in a code. They have a way with words. They are master manipulators. They will be facetious. They claim to side with nature, but will use technology against you. They'll do voodoo in your bedroom while you sit there pretending not to notice. They are masters in the game of mind-*******. You won't find them in mansions, though. They prefer the veil of middle-class squalor...I am not waging war against magic, cause even Jesus might be considered a magician...But Jesus was out to heal, while they are out to harm. The more you speak of their powers, the more they use them. I'm stupid but I can't pretend to be dumb...And I believe true magic lies in the power of a pure heart- no matter how broken your halo is. I may have no guardian angel anymore, but I spoke to one, as have they. I know I may never feel the shelter of an angel's wings, just as I may never enter dreamless sleep. The hourglass has never been in my favor. I know how amusing this is to them, and how ironic it is to me....Religion and magic run parallel; except one is always repulsed by the other.

All week long I could not remember what day it was. But today the calendar spoke loud and clear. It's Sunday. The day of rest. But there is no rest for my mind. And as I write this down in red ink, ironically the only ink I could find, I can't help but think of a song, and how Sundays aren't a day of rest for many. And I don't mean those who labor for money. I mean those that spin webs. This is the season they come alive- unlike me, who dies every season but is never reborn. "I have died, I will die, it's alright, I don't mind."...You mentioned red color schemes- the shade of blood- and all I could think about was your black schemes and how you're good with a knife. I thought I made my mind up about instinct, but that's easy under candlelight. Then you turned the pseudo-suns on and as you touched all my in-valuables, I wondered how malleable you think I am. Molding me slowly with your contradicting words, taking pictures of the doors and windows to a house that's not a home with a band-aid over your nose, manically mapping out your revenge....You're not the first fair-weather friend and you won't be the last...I saw your eyes. And I saw your head turn at the signal of a word. Figures- everyone in these parts are related. Whispering literal sweet Nothings in my ear. A hell of a lot can change in years. Of course, this could all be in my head. But nothing of sweetness was really said, was it? And you'll know I'll dig deeper...to figure out who is the artist and who is the ambulance. So I hope now your mouth is free of anything clean...Now that you know the ins and outs of me. Look at that, I barely rhymed. Your turn this time.