I've walked over a thousand bodies of my past
Who I am no longer
I've felt the blood and the decay
I saw them rot
I killed them all
What joy!
I've set fires to myself
And like the Phoenix
I rise, I dance upon my ashes

How odd it is
To be on the outside of understanding
To have your feelings turned into spears
A prescription for hysteria
A life spent being a bin for emotions
Emptied when full
Quiet and strong
But I wondered,
What is at the bottom of an emotion?

New York City
Heavy, baby
Weighs you down
Holds you tight
Straight to the point
No Bull
New York City
Takes the right hand path
Full of logic and wisdom
Heavy, baby
Filled with concrete
Pick up your feet, stand up tall
Look straight ahead, shoulders back
New York City
Jazz and flashing lights
Leading the night

And I began to become obsessed
Obsessed with the vision of love
Observing
The way their pupils dilate when eyes meet
The trickle of a smile slowly drifting across a face
The breathing in of another before a kiss
The symmetry
Not at all of my own
Wanting to understand
Innocently trying to take a little of that energy for myself
To hold it, to feel it
To learn it and study it
Maybe hoping that I could replicate
Whatever I lack

There’s an innocence
In 22
That I’ll probably never meet again
Blind faith meeting blind hope
Carefree meeting careless
The confidence of an undefined brain
Growing harder with age
Men see it too
29 will never be as fun as 22
When the male gaze
Looks past you
Because your head is held higher
And your body is no longer new
Especially to you

You are the wanted one, men strive for you
The serpent of desire,
Urging men to play with fire
They run and chase
But you play games
Like a cat with a string
Until your feet get tired