they are always talking about me, aren't they
when they look into the group and say
some of you will have a different vocation
they are always talking about me
because I am not brave enough to correct people
when they say, "when you have kids"
they are always talking about me
because I imagined a day yesterday
walking through an airport to board a plane
on a mission, with a God-loving group of people,
singing, heavy backpacks and joy in our hearts
ready to handle anything life could throw at us
and united in love together for the rest of the world
and I felt an enormous sense of relief,
"I made it. this is what I've been fighting for."
I finally made it, I'm home-
isn't that beautiful?
I know exactly where I'm supposed to be
I'm just not ready to exactly say it yet.

I would like to love someone
but my heart was made for wi(l)der things

I am tired
of people talking to me
like I am stupid
and tired
of this condescending tone
in words and writing
and the 'I'm a parent you're a child'
attitude, and the 'just wait til you go to college'
why do I have to wait? Why is it that
righteousness is delayed,
that it is assumed I am average,
a child to be ignored,
I am  capable of making my own decisions
and I am tired of adults telling me I cannot
simply because I have not traveled the sun's orbit enough.
what is your IQ, oh wise and elder one?
please enlighten me with what politics you think will help America.
what is your opinion on the five pillars of Islam?
What about the politics of Nepal?
and is China a communist or socialist state?
oh, you don't care? why?
because you're satisfied with being ignorant
and you refuse to have your beliefs questioned by someone
younger than you
because by birthright, you have claimed
authority over all areas of life and have
taken the wishes of children until they are left beaten down
for you do not believe in them,
you only believe in yourself,
and you are wrong,
but you can't see that.

I wish there were more than 24 hours in a day
so I could do all the things that need to be done
and all the things I want to do
and homework
and studying
and musical instruments
and sports
and eating
and a social life
and clubs
and reading
and sleep

but you can't have everything, can you?

what she told me,
by accident, laying there late at night in a bed not mine or hers
is too horrific to pen, the kind of grisly detail
that is sacred and ****** in a breath,
a red-stained skeleton, the reason for all I had believed was true,
but it has been disproved,
I will hold this intention in the silence of my heart
in between privacy and freedom
unexposed, sealed by the scars
a slit-like layer of muscle that writhes uncomfortably under the surface
I am wrong but I am right,
it is over, but how shall I go home
what kind of secret can I not write, or tell to my dearest friends?
what kind of secret demands to be buried and hidden,
for it must be; only Hell can contain this- it is not for earthy eyes
it is the only thing that must remain unwritten, the
only word that must remain unspoken,
even when all else fails and all truth comes to light,
I will retain one thing,
in the happiest of moments and most intimate of conversations,
I will not be completely there,
even in the poems that write out my heart,
they will trace every tendon and pulse every vein but they will not,
they cannot trespass into this realm,
it is forbidden, locked in the deepest cave of my soul,
never to be acknowledged or even comprehended
but I do not know how to live like this
and I do not know how will I ever be able to face him again.

sing me sweet,
sing me low,
say you'll never let me go
and we're makin our own way out

n/a

i have always liked big words and things with gravity
and not just moments but Moments
maybe that is why I feel the weight of us so perfectly
for I am truly meant for you
and you are truly meant for me

once more, with feeling
he calls as the bow skitters across the strings, my fingers
artfully pouncing down and around in a small space,
an elaborate tap dance and I feel my body reeling back as my soul
takes over, into autopilot and if I think, I'll make a mistake
I can feel the beat of the percussion moving through the section as I
am united to my standpartner and we to the rest of the world,
with feeling as the cellos strike their solo,
with feeling as the flutes take the melody,
again and we support the violas
I'm plucking now,
I shall never forget this,
the music swells and we are one, we are all
tenuously supporting each other with a connection that is so fragile
if it breaks now, it is lost, the world shall begin again but a little less
magical without it, the crescendo ripples and our hearts thrum,
too special even to write about accurately,
we know each other, we are all that matter now,
I have never felt more or less of a stranger,
it is just for the moment,
it cannot break, with feeling this time.

I have always wanted a story-book love
so I have made myself a story-book person

it is not by accident
we share the same mind
we are both willing to ask for help deciding
our levels of consciousness
you see the present and i see the past and the future
you guide me and show me how to laugh
our hearts have been inextricably tied
even now, i know what you are thinking,
i miss you more than you know,
i want you next to me,
do you remember when i felt so terrible that night
that i broke, thinking 'i need to apologize to ashton'
but i didn't, i scrolled through my contact list and i called you
because it was for you, it was all for you,
since the day that changed both our lives forever,
but we can never be together
because i cannot give you what you want
and i am undeserving of you,
and i will never make you have to see my father again,
but i am selfish enough to keep coming back to you myself
you said that i was the only one you missed
because we have history,
and like fire, i have blazed and trained myself
since three years ago, my hands have been cleansed and prepared for war,
we needed time to dance alone til God brought us back together,
and laying under the stars, we held hands
as a supernova bloomed, the star's age died
and so did our past, we are ready for each other now,
we are ready for each other now,
there is so much to write about,
we are ready for each other now,
but maybe we cannot be,
too much has transpired and i have seen the core of your being
and our paths have irreparably broken and crossed
we shall always be a part of each other
and maybe that is too much,
but maybe that is exactly what needs to be.

i stole a kiss from her
she gave it willingly, then, maybe,
but i think she knew, maybe, that i was lying to her the whole time,
i stole her first kiss, and when we told stories about it around the fire,
we both lied, then, and looked at each other,
and my lips remembered hers and hers, mine,
she laid next to me on my bed and hearts pounding
we remembered the last time we had laid like that and i ****** myself
i took what had been not mine and was not mine to take
and she, that angel of a girl,
forgave me somehow,
how could she forgive me?
and I find myself tossing and turning
into love with someone
whom I do not deserve to touch.

i eat chocolate chips like they're a drug and i'm trying to overdose
i bake brownies like they have more than just flour in them
i read and write like it's a shot directly into my veins
of pure, unadulterated experience, golden and black
i dance like i'm on adderall i stole from my sister
my nostrils smell tea like the leaves are *******
life is my drug, ******, and it's ridiculous to say
and my friends would make fun of me for it,
but i'm tired of calling things ridiculous and having to monitor
if i'm being uncool enough to mention it,
so i'm **** proud that life is my drug,
i get high on memories
and trip on late nights,
laying broken on the floor,
only to be healed again by a hug or a kind word,
life's a drug,
and i'm addicted.

Passion fascinates me
Today, a Jehovah's Witness came to the door
and I couldn't help but smile and accept his pamphlet
because why the heaven not
yehovah or yeshua,
it is still my Lord
who ignites hearts and
guides the fire towards love
I see people looking like no one has ever loved them
like they are lost, confused, without a home,
adults who are supposed to be 'well adapted'
forcing children to accept gender roles and claiming them themselves
don't they know that God is a God of love?
using hate to make others love your way is illogical, wrong, and painful for everyone.
think of others,
and if, when you read that, you thought,
"yeah some people **** well should"
you're the one that needs to. I realized this weekend
that I will die
and my light will burn out
and I will never experience anything again
so by all **** means, I will be extreme
don't call me an extremist,
why the hell not? you have no time to be mediocre
no time to ignore the voice from the heavens
or the spirit burning within you,
no time to filter it or spray the special spray
be intense, extreme, anything and everything,
the most you can possibly be.
we used to look and wonder about our place in the stars,
and now we just look and worry about our place in the dirt,
what has happened to the human spirit?
we have forgotten we were destined for God.
we have forgotten what greater glory there was
and we have laughed at each other until the little girl
ready for her first recital,
cries before performing, because the audience knows not the kindness
they have never been taught,
the soldier stands desperate, and runs, because he has never been shown
why he should stay,
the gentlest of all get their hearts broken, because we have forgotten how to be
soft and strong,
so the hardest survive and the softest are broken and broken again and again until there is nothing left, because they have nothing to hang on to,
so find God again, let him show you how to be, do not be afraid,
he has the best plans for you,
and do not think he does not love you,
he loves you so much that he gave his life for you,
you, exactly who you are, ready to dance into the world,
he stands beside you, urging you on, he is all positive and upbuilding,
our God is a God of inspiration, not brokenness,
he will heal you and show you how to heal,
he will dance with you and mend your heart,
he will lift you to the highest pedestal if that is what is best,
or he will break you down if that is what will make you strong,
you have a choice,
for he will change you anyway,
but you may choose to accept him and know that it is because of love,
or reject, hate, and feel more broken than ever.
So, let the king of kings into your heart, because no one has ever
loved you, nor will ever love you,
as much as he does,
and he will take you into his arms and show you the world-
you are ready, you are exactly who you are supposed to be,
know that, and never forget it,
be extreme, be intense, that is what the Lord wants,
he is not looking for someone who sits quietly and accepts their lot,
he wants someone willing to change and leap and guide,
because we are not made for mediocrity,
we are made for greatness.

i refuse to grow old

it is a religious experience
to stand privy to someone's most private achings
and watch the beat of their heart unfold through the room
as thousands of others sway in time,
our bodies in align,
all of scared to comment or look at each other because if we do,
we are violating some sacred safe space
of, 'this is all there is, the here and now, and I am alone and you are alone but we are together and this world is beautiful'
and if you acknowledge it, it is gone,
so we must simply exist together,
at the moment, let the world flow as one,
and do not speak.

separation of church and state
means the state cannot interfere with individuals' right
to practice their religion
and public institutions cannot forbid certain religions and allow others
it does NOT mean the church is not allowed in public
it does NOT mean the schools can forbid students from praying
it means the school and the government have no rights
to stop these actions
and have no control
over the actions of individuals
regarding religion,
not that individuals have no rights regarding religion
for the sake of other individuals being 'oppressed' by your free expression.
if you don't work for the government,
you have the right to practice. don't forget it.

everyone is tragically in love with someone else,
dancing and pining, returning
to the addiction, a relapse
of what is it, *******? ******? kind words?
and I
I am busy suffocating in my own spit
I am gagging and revolting at these chains of green poison,
cloaking over my airway,
I cannot speak, this atmosphere is
the same way the sky looks just before it collapses,
strained smiles in a strained nation where
strangers do not speak or associate
police **** innocent men
and thousands more are called guilty for
using their first amendment rights,
it is the frustration at belief that since you are
black
or a woman
that you mean nothing, you are good for nothing,
your only goal is surely malice
and there is nothing you can say to change their minds
so they lay these liquid chains atop you and they fill your lungs
you cannot breathe deep enough to force them out, you can only feel yourself slowly sinking through the moist air and pumping your legs uselessly
the fire inside you only serves to boil the chains and settle the burning poison deeper into your wounds.

burning alive inside my own skin, I feel,
I am suffocated into a kind of peace, a peace that says
do not stand or sit, this is good enough
a peace that is to emulate the earth,
eternal, unmoving, in accordance with being changed,
molding into the world around it
but my Lord, I hear him calling, he says that true peace is
not to stay like the earth, he says that it is
rather, to wreak a change so vast in the passion of the heart
that it can only have been caused by a vision of self
that is based in unity, to force and break something in the world
you must exist in the violence of feeling and stay true
and though the world might roll and thunder around you
your soul is stronger and has the power to gather and clench
the tendons wrapped around the galaxies
burning and writhing the masses of hurricanes
bending the will of tempests
for your soul is unconquerable, your peace shall not come from
lying down and accepting, your peace is in your core, while you are
driven irresistibly forward, like the tide of the greatest ocean,
your depths, unprobed, crevasses and mountains stretched
like continents displayed across, a nobility of design
your might, unknown, your eyes burn with a hesitancy and trust
that you cannot hide, and you shall reach your hand up
into the annals of history and tear and vandalize pages at will,
no one is going to stop you, no one can stand in your way,
for the wisest and bravest of all men will fear what you are capable of.

I pass back and read late at night
write poetry,
eat yogurt, things I had sworn off and return to with ever more vigor
I am caught in an orbit,
the gravitation is just enough to keep me spinning and too much
to let me go free, I fight it,
I fight it with stolen cigarettes and late nights
and tumbling over and over on a golf course
I fight it with drinks by myself and the purchase of ridiculous items
song lyrics composed on the spot and bold winks across the room
smiley faces and pickup lines to people I should not dare
a fantasy of LSD and the hope I'll see a dragon
so I can finally stop dreaming of them.

I burn you down
I will, I can, and I have
I get lost in a frenzy of fire and musk
tied taut between two sleeping masts
sailing ever forward as I slip
arms spread wide,
hoarsely proclaiming a message of my pain,
crucified, on board the navigation to a burnt bridge
for there will always have been a struggle
that, though it contains many words,
must remain silent,
and though I say I will burn you down,
my flames will only consume my own soul.

it has been a long time since I have written.
I can feel the words pulsing like worlds throughout me
but I cannot express them like I used to, my cogs are rusty and
the conveyor belt paused, not for maintenance but
for lack of workers, they died in their confined control
room, barking orders to the rest of it. They died here
trying to run this mystical wonderland
and have not been able to return.

I am so painfully terrified
I am not ready-
I am different now than I was last year
I am not ready
a few more days
weeks, months
I am not good enough
for I am not ready

Te/Fi
or
Fe/Ti?
Ne/Si
or
Se/Ni?
maybe I'm just well-developed
or maybe I defy
labels
maybe I'm schizotypal
but I'm probably just
Histrionic
and Narcissistic.
the clever part is,
if I wasn't,
I wouldn't be telling y'all,
would I?

I am a woman (or man)
who has always had
Ni then Ne
as her dominant cognitive functions
These take what is relevant from the
wide scale and connect it into patterns and grand schemes
immediately followed by more chances and opportunities
to tie into the preexisting idea.
take, arrange, support-
that is how I approach information-
I create possibilities and fragment and organize
with my next, Ti.
I analyze, compromise, and strategize with Te, my third.
I diplomate, learn, and charismatize with Fe,
and then internalize the response to social interactions with Fi.
You, my friend, are someone I have never been
able to compartmentalize
I have been struggling with the concept of your inherent freedom
since I met you. I believed myself to be free
but watched the others like birds in a cage
until one of them bent the wires as if they were paper
and escaped, despite my attempts to force
and to struggle to return you within the bars
for my observation.
little did I know,
wild birds
do not like to be observed, measured, and critiqued
they will fight every restriction you put on them, well-meaning or otherwise
they will teach you what that quote means about
letting go what you love
because they sure as hell
aren't meant to be caged.

I've done and am doing
everything I can to avoid you
and save you from feeling uncomfortable
standing in line for drills, I'll give you
almost a ten-foot berth
it surprises and shocks me
when I still see your face
looking slightly disgusted
or when you and your sister make eye contact
I can't help but wonder if you've deduced it,
figured out, that though
I have no right to be jealous and hurt
I still am
and though
you do not belong to me
I love you like someone suffocating in the heat
who only occasionally gets a breath of cold air
and even then, it is just a trickle
for I am dying to stay away from you
dying when I keep you close
my heart is struggling, limply pounding
frail against my ribs, there's nothing left of me
because its all for you, I changed myself
a named bullet
or a placard on a seat at a table
saying 'here, this one's for you'
my mannerisms have changed
my dance, my walk, my voice, my sense of humor
consciously or subconsciously,
I have branded my soul
molded it into a you-shaped whole
but then
you never liked being told what to do,
did you?
so I turn away, I walk on the opposite side
I never want you to feel pressured or like you have to hide
I dance far away from you
It's not a matter of 'time to bide'
it's about you and your decisions
that you have your alone time,
despise being labeled,
your wants are completely yours,
defy my understanding;
I'll never serve them out loud to you, you'd hate that
all I can do is quietly avoid, conceal
because I'd give my life to make you happy
and fill your needs, objectively
for I've come to terms with the stark reality of love
and your plans, blueprints of what and whom you're going to be
and how they don't ever include me.

oh, sweet little darling,
who are you pretending to be?
what do you have to hide?
don't be afraid to show me,
oh, precious princess,
these endearments make you want to die
but I wish you'd just confess
you've told me everything else, oh apple of my eye
no need to hide behind
whatever lying disguise
that you decided you needed
this time.

“You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place. Like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again.”
Azar Nafisi

you know...
every year, I'm scared it's gonna be different
and I'm scared I won't make it back
but,
every year,
I return
and yes, it is different,
but it is glorious
and I have never been disappointed.
when all else falls, and the world rejects me,
I have a rock
because who I am
has only ever been who I am
whilst standing on it
and now,
I am about to mount the rock again
reclaim myself
and ascend even higher.
(but fading echoes in my head resound,
singing: this too shall pass)

it is not enough to be dumbstruck.

can you fill the silence?

things we lost in the fire:
the way to fill the silence
those moments in the dark
the acceptance of our flaws
real poetry
the ability to get up off our feet and stop making tired excuses
every single one of our laughter lines
what it means to be free
how to run into the night with all you had
guided only by your beating heart.

i would run a million miles
to pique your interest
anything to be different
to fascinate you
I'd get plastic surgery
start wearing pink
have long angry conversations
smoke
reveal secret passions for boring things
just to see your confused, intrigued face
because that is my favorite of your expressions
the one that doesn't shut down when asked to think
the one that has forgotten to dislike,
the open face, the excited face, the beautiful face
that's it
that's the one.

I am ready for my heart to be washed clean
I am done being wounded by myself and those around me
it's time to put it in the hands of those who will hold it tenderly
not my parents- they cut me and make sarcastic and mean remarks
not my friends- they value themselves over me
not strangers- they don't smile
It's time
it's time for everything I am to be
carefully bandaged and swaddled
and ****** until it is new
it is time for my heart to stop bleeding and scarring
it's time to go to camp.

I fall in love like the leaves from the trees:
every autumn;
I have to be scraped off the ground yearly
for I have lost all sense of direction
collapsed, dead
can be molded by anyone who stops by
unsettled by children
and, amid all of it,
it is frighteningly beautiful
and wondrous
as the wind takes me once again.

I do not wish to be scarred, thickened, hardened
I do not wish to become knarled
I want, and I only want
to stay tender and soft
energetic
and naïve
my whole life.

i could sit in awe of you for ages
but that is not what you want

people who use their religion to work 'miracles'
on the bodies
and end up dying
do not understand the reason why we have science.
science is for the body, the world, building and medicating
religion should not be applied to any of those things
religion is the medication of the mind and heart
it is the cure for the soul,
the formula for mental stability
the chemical balance of self-control
it is not a treatment for cancer, polio, or ***
it is a treatment for sadness, hatred, and confusion
both religion and science are:
correct when used correctly
lethal when used inappropriately
violent when misconstrued.
science can damage the soul like nothing else
and religion can destroy the body
they are both useful and good in their own right,
but terribly, terribly dangerous
and should be treated as such.

children
are a flame that is already kindled
and you must be careful not to extinguish it
for they will hold the water you poured all over their souls
deep inside them
forever.
children
are carpenters
engineers
painters
and when you build for them
build them a platform for them to explore from
not a box for them to fill.
children
are galaxies,
spinning, beautiful, incredibly deep
they are flowers, with tender pistils
and incredibly fertile stamen
they are grass that will not strangle eah other
until you stomp on them
they are clouds that move frailly,
bound by the wind and bearing but one load of rain
they are wells: the deeper you dig, the more you find,
the farther the bottom goes,
they are dancers: turn off the music for just a second, and the mood is ruined
they are all these things
but above all,
they are children,
and they should be guarded
and held as tenderly
as our own hearts-
even more so, for I am careless with my heart-
I will guard the children like I guard my mind,
lay down my life and pick up my armor
anything, everything,
for these, the most beautiful and perfect of us all.

You walked by while I was in biology
in the middle of a sentence, I stopped
my mouth agape,
my eyes alit, following your path
I'd never seen someone so beautiful
like an angel cried a single tear on your mother's womb
because finally there was a person on earth
who is as awe-inspiring as a creature in heaven
and I can't focus on anything but you
look how her hair falls over her shoulder
look how untouchable, how ****** up I am,
it will never be the same,
I can never have her,
be satisfied with friendship,
those lips,
be okay with how she is,
I want her, I've never wanted anyone this much
I want to wake up next to that face,
I can't, I can't
but look how beautiful she is,
my friends said, 'hey, maddie'
turned around,
and didn't see anything- for you were gone.

everybody loves somebody
especially me
everybody loves somebody
in a glorious, stupid tragedy.

"taking away hope slow like that,
that's like giving somebody a little less air to breathe
every day, until they die."
I have always measured the goodness of things
by three scales: suffocation, nausea, and pain
there are some that are just suffocating,
those are the 'numbing evils',
some that are just painful,
those are the 'agonizing evils',
those that are just nauseating,
those are the 'sinful evils'
there are some things that are
suffocating and nauseating that don't induce pain
those are the 'unsettling evils'
there are some that are nauseating and painful
that do not suffocate
those are the 'violent evils'
and there are some
that are suffocating and painful, but
for some reason, have never felt anything but right-
that is called 'love'.

Somebody told me
that in their dream
I had said, 'Love is so hard to find,'
and they said, 'I'm right here'
and we kissed
and then another person
took my face in their hands
and giggled, and didn't, and I failed,
I always have that dream when I just hold someone
I just hold them in my arms all night long and that's when I know it will end
some people are scared love will never find them because they've never felt it
and I think they're lucky, they're lucky because love hurts
it hurts and its an ordeal that will scar your heart
I'm scared my heart is too scarred to pump anymore
I'm tired of falling for people,
and I dreamed of you every night for months and
you didn't dream of me, you didn't look at me,
you don't owe me anything for me just being nice to you
but I don't hate you for not loving me,
I hate myself for loving you.

i carry you with me
i carry you not only in my heart but in my mind
in every time i close my eyes
every ******* love song i hear
every smile i see on someone else's face
i carry you in the stars and the moon and the dances
i carry you in a tattoo of words on my soul
i carry you with me
(i carry you in my heart)
but i carry you everywhere else too.

you were selling boys to teach the class how to kiss
and for some reason, I spoke up, like I usually do,
and I asked, "how much for the master?"
and you looked at me with your mouth slightly open like you usually do, and said
"are you flirting with me?"
to which I responded,
"yes. is there a problem?"
and you smiled
and then later, alone for the private lesson,
I felt your lips on mine,
soft and pressing, in time together,
pulsing with our heartbeats
slowly, at first, working our way up,
a little tongue here and there,
you'd stop and chastise me
there's something intimate about lips on lips that's more than just skin
it's the warmth and force and desire
our bodies pressed together
and then
I saw you again alone later in the dream
and, eyes full of longing, leaned
forward, and you told me the lesson was over
and I kissed you anyway
I saw you again in the shower, naked,
pressed against me, wet and soft
and you told me the lesson was over
and we kept kissing anyway.

I am not a writer. I cannot
write every night late into the deep
like young writers should
I do not have the perseverance to craft a character
they'll care about or romanticize
my characters are blind, foolish, ridiculous
unlovable, like the self-portrait
of a blond man kissed by the purple night
I am not strong enough to **** the dragons in my stories
I'll write you into the pages
but it will never be anything more than an incomplete explanation,
what painting could contain the sun?
I cannot contain the word that
you say with every moment and breath.
I cannot contain the word and
so the word will contain me. The ink will pulse
into my skin, kissing my soul with blessed eternity
I am not worthy, I am never worthy of the darkness of the word
impressed upon my heart of white, a tattoo
of something claimed by those greater, a crown of false gold,
those who wore it before were forced to give it up
by the one event they were trying to cheat
I say I had wings, and maybe I did, but they're gone now;
I am not a writer, the word has been falsely taken,
I am an usurper, not a writer,
I am terrified because I have
this river of flowing black etching and stamping,
forming and gliding, untangling into something greater than myself,
something I cannot earn or hear-
I am not a writer. Please don't let me be a writer.
I am not worthy.

you keep looking at me
and it's slightly murderous
dark, like you want to twist my arms off
and there's something untraceable in the looks
anger, maybe,
a swirling tornado of mixed emotions,
longing? hate? 'glad I'm done with you'?
fascination? interest? mystery? dislike?
'I finally found out what was happening'?
whatever it is, it's not love
it's not pleasant
doesn't make me feel very good
but,
I am almost relieved, selfishly,
because my eyes have been watching you for months
and you've finally started looking at me back.

I'd like to be someone's drug
that induces a high
like no other
with no lows to follow
an electric shock, hallucinations
beautiful kalediscope
I would like to be a drug
almost more than I want to do them

someone asked me what my type of guy was
and I pictured, first, nerdy guys, with big glasses and messed up hair who are tall and gangly
then I pictured pixie-cut girls who are small and cute and elfin
then I saw girls in flowy skirts whose shoulders look narrow enough to fold in on themselves
then I saw hippie men with long curly hair and a love that is languid and enveloping in nature
I saw surfers, writers, musicians, not artists, no preppy boys
I saw people in black and white and I saw the change of color in your eyes
I saw people playing guitar and yelling at the top of their lungs
I saw us in a sunny beat-up car with the windows down
I saw people who'd hold my hand and then grab my ***
I saw people whose minds arched to the heavens and then somehow back to me
I saw someone on my level, an equal match, the completion of the circle
a radio signal that had a bit of static before it was united
eyes that focus and hearts that ignite
just emotional enough to deal with me
and not emotional enough to let me stay stagnant
I saw someone who would push me, break me, teach me
and I'd be pushing, breaking, and teaching right back
and we'd always be with other people
and moving constantly, improving ourselves
because we'd have independent lives and wouldn't need constant affirmation
however
we really wouldn't be complete
or completely satisfied
without each other
and our souls
would have a bungee cord
elastic
stretched between us.

I have this passionate love for
non-tasteful, guitar-y songs that I can shout
and I live for really any kind of weather
all the subjects are my cup of tea
I like mountains and flatlands
city and country
when faced with all my wordly options
I have no idea what I wanna become
but there is one truth- a constant,
one magnetic north, even amidst the noise and haste:
there's nothing I can do;
I only wanna be with you.

love is
the most ambiguous
definite thing
the most feeling-related action
the most action-related feeling
it is the most flexible, confusing, broken
only solid point of reference we have
love is a completely selfless act for someone you want only for yourself
it is a completely selfish want for someone to be happy.

when I look into your eyes
it's like watching a black hole
as everything in its orbit is sublimated,
spaghettified, caught outside time
trapped into the toxic love of the unlimited-density-object
time slows down, and it slows,
and it slows, and it slows,
until it stops.
and nothing ever reaches the center.