Please
Pick up my call
For the sky will fall
And the last thing I want to hear
Is your soul.

there are words
hidden in trees
and growing in flowers.
there are words
between people's lips
and in songs being carried
by the summer breeze.
there are words
on our fingertips
and lingering in our ears.
there are words
left unspoken
and there are some
that were spoken
all too quickly.
there are words
in our body  
and in everything
that is alive.
because life is
a combination of words
and we're just trying
to make them rhyme.

I was your back-up plan.

The ***** pair of socks, still clean enough to wear.

The spare tire left to solitude in the trunk.

The only restaurant open on holidays.

I was your back-up plan.

So when your ship is sinking, remember that I was your life-raft.
And remember the way you stuck a knife in my back and threw me overboard.
I'm being sincere when I say, good luck fighting off the sharks.

Who ever said I could not write happy poems while my blood dripped all over these pages

Who ever said I could not smile so much that it hurts in the morning, only to cry myself to liberation at night?
Who ever said I could not bring a party to life, just because my insides feel dead?
Who ever said I could not preach self love while loathing myself?

Who ever said I could not care for humanity, even if I don't really love humans all that much individually?
Who ever said I'd shy away from an argument, just because I advocate peace?
Who ever said I can't be complex in my thoughts, while being so simple in my art?
Who ever said I could not be an insomniac, even if I can sleep all day long just fine?

Who ever said I could not be terribly sad while laughing myself to a fit?
Who ever said I could not wear a seat belt just because some nights my thoughts strayed to suicide?
Who ever said I wanted to die just because I could not expect to live?

Who ever said who you're should be neatly labelled into categories others decide?