What is the hardest part
                    Of being alone?
It's the quietness,
A stillness making
What ought have been a home-
a house.
It's filled with beds,
But those lover's nests
Are             Empty.
And the thought is
As occupying as a dream.
A dream you cannot feel
Because the loneliness is keeping you awake

With no one to hold down your fears
         And keep you safe.

When you joke you sound so serious
And I never seem to get it until it’s too late

You like order and tradition
I listen to Christmas songs in July.

Our moods never seem to match
You seem to thinks that that’s just fine.

But I don’t understand.

I’m always worried, it seems,
That I’ll somehow let you down
And in doing so, I’ve succeeded.

I always do the best that I can
to look good for you
you complain, “it isn’t needed.”

You’re family only likes the ‘Normal’
Whatever that is
But I stick out like a sore thumb.

From my hair and it’s ever-changing colors,
To my jeans with their pictures and quotes,
...That are drawn on with sharpies...
and the paint stains that cover them from time to time!

Because of all of this, I worry.

Am I too weird?
Is my rainbow-like hair too odd?
Are my drawn on jeans ,
My crazy belly dancing skirts,
And pentagram necklaces,
Simply too strange?

What of my love of olives?
And how I ***** up my face when I think?
Do you not like how I spend hours on my computer,
Working on one picture (trying to make it just right)?

Or how, when I choose to color my art by hand,
I walk away with paint all over me (Even on my cheeks),
And an oddly proud grin plastered on my face?

I worry, and pace,
For days on end, at times,
Wondering if you really love me.

And when you finally see me,
The weird, colorful,  oddball that I am
You smile, and kiss me,
saying "i've missed you so much!"

And I know that I worried for nothing,
That you are different from your parents,
That our beliefs live together in harmony,
That you actually like the odd faces I make when I'm thinking
and the weird colors I dye my hair,
And that you really, truly love me—

Paint stains and all.

I once kept some fish
I called one Pythagoras
He swam round and round the tank
And to be frank
I thought he was working out the cubic capacity.
To keep them fit
I fed them on flakes because that's all it takes
But he was a sod he took out a fishing rod
Caught all the others and ate all his brothers
I was a bit peeved but then I conceived
An idea..Oh lord what a killer.
In his tank I put a mirror
Well.
When he saw his reflection
Section by section he ate himself
And finished with his head.
Now Pythagoras is dead.
You didn't expect a happy ending did you?

I fell in love with a girl.
And when I say fell, I mean crashed, heart-first.
Willingly....
Immersed every inch of my self.
Soul-first...
Into this love...

We went swimming.
So willingly.

And I held you...
So close.
So tight.
And we slept so sound in those surroundings.
Tangled.
Together.
In silence.
In the dark.

You didnt need a TV those nights to keep the boogeyman at bay.

So willingly...
I quenched you in my arms...
So that our hearts could perpetuate perfect pulses.
In unison...like a symphony of moving atoms.
And we produced thermal fusion.
Tangled.
Together.

I see you.
My reflection.
That first time we locked eyes...
We saw souls.
And this collision formed one heavenly body.
That's why I cried over this division.
This imperfect perfection.

And I never gave 2nd thought when you told me i'd never lose you.
I believed you.
But then...I wanted to.
I wanted you.

I'm still trying to brush away the dust as it settles into sentiment.

This reflection...
Rippled but real...
Forms rings of imperfect perfection...

When we're both looking in the same direction.

Looking for something to go beyond,
This life is like skipping a rock on a pond.
At the very last skip,
It stops with a splash.
Sinking to the bottom,
Gone in a flash.

If hate is what's inside us,
then hate is what defines us.

We are ******.
We are taught to love everyone.
even our enemies.
what value does that put on love?

There is a war inside us.
We are the lost.
The sick.
The broken.

Touch me,
it doesn't matter where
and it doesnt matter how
I need to know I'm still alive
so someone touch me now
Shake my hand and say hello
or pat me on the back
kiss me on the cheek
that I may feel this sense I lack
slap my face and pull my hair
make me bleed I just don't care
dig your nails into my skin
so I can feed this need within
I've been numb for such a time
that even pain would be sublime
so touch me, touch me now
I don't care where, I don't care how