I'm afraid

I'm afraid of being betrayed
By those who I love
So I stand in the shade
I dream of
Better days, unafraid,
Of being dismayed

I'm afraid of being alone
The grey unknown
Has been shown
The darkness is now my throne
My isolation is my crown
It rests upon my brow
I've become a clown

I'm afraid of my self
I sit alone on a shelf
Collecting dust
I want to combust
Who do I even trust?

My fears have moulded to my skin
Each inhale
Can cause me to derail

                                  My tale has made me pale
                                  For my fears are like a veil
                                    I have made my own jail

and all these years later
i still have a tendency to wander
to spin
to dance

and you watch me.
you watch me drift from foot to foot just testing my own stability
(i'm a lot more stable than i used to be)

i'm finally used to me

Shall I compare thee to a cup of tea?
Thou art less lovely and less temperate.
Your voice winds do shake my tranquillity,
And fair attentions are too hard to get.
Sometimes too hot your critical glare shines,
And often is your vicious tongue untrimmed;
And every sip of love in time declines,
With swift return to lover's lounge much dimmed.
Your sharp heat shall never cool to comfort,
And all sugar in the world won't sweeten,
The bitter beating of your blackened heart;
Nor shall the greed of your soul be beaten.
As long as men can drink a cup of tea,
So long lives my hate and disgust for thee.

he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
night, running the blade of the knife
under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
of all the letters he had received
telling him that
the way he lived and wrote about
that--
it had kept them going when
all seemed
truly
hopeless.

putting the blade on the table, he
flicked it with a finger
and it whirled
in a flashing circle
under the light.

who the hell is going to save
me? he
thought.

as the knife stopped spinning
the answer came:
you're going to have to
save yourself.

still smiling,
a: he lit a
cigarette
b: he poured
another
drink
c: gave the blade
another
spin.

We fall asleep to
       Strawberry Fields,
folding bodies to match an unfamiliar shape
and I must remember
   that certainly,
      you can't fall in love
  with every boy who gives you his hands
    and an irregular heartbeat
in exchange for the breath from your chest;
but sometimes
     
     I just forget.