its 2:24am and I'm terrified that you have become the only drug i crave. before it was much easier, much more concrete, much more discrete. i could fill a void with a glass, a bottle, a joint. now the only mind altering act I crave is you next to me with your arms wrapped around my waist, your lips on my neck, your warm chest sheltering me. its so simple, yet so intriguing and more fulfilling than any drug I've tried. its hard to seem sincere... my whole life ahead. but right now theres nothing else i want. at first i thought i had it under control. but oh god was i wrong. the power that pulses through your touch is indescribable. maybe I'm just naive, but you can illuminate the darkest of thoughts. I think I've come to terms with it now, the power your touch has over me. All i know is before i wanted to get drunk off liquor and now the only thing that i want to get drunk off of is your lips. I never did believe in shooting stars , but you're starting to flip the ground I stand... and i think I'm ok with it.

if ones value was determined by their self worth;
i wouldn't be an insignificant crack on the cool moist pavement that you walk on your daily commute.
i would be a crevice of the guitar strings you use to orchestrate beautiful melodies.
i would be a single leaf on the tallest tree in your jungle
I would be a piece of thread bound into the sheets on which you dream.
if ones value was determined by their self worth i would be nothing.
not even a ripple in the tsunami of your existence
how am i to expect to amount to anything if i can't even come to terms with the skin that surrounds me.
all I've ever done is try to escapt this skin.
this insignificant reality I've been faced with.
every part of me is laced into you...
thats what it comes down to.
if it weren't for the pavement, there would be no where for the crack to lay.
if it weren't for the guitar, what would be there to stretch the wire string wide against its body.
if it weren't for the trees, there would be nothing to give the leaves life; just a lifeless piece of matter on the earth floor.
if there was no bed, what purpose do these sheets hold.
its a metaphor
its the same as you and i.
I have found myself wound into ever facet of your existence.
without you who am i?

i’ve never gone by my first name.
maybe that says something about who i am.
my parents said it didn’t suit me.
do you see the connection.
I’ve been set up since my first days.
i never fit who i was meant to be.
i wish i could say that i have a grand story to share with the world.
but everything has just been mediocre.
although i have had moments of disinterest in the city i was born in, the family i was blessed with, the skin i reside in, i still have moments of love and lust.
when air fills my lungs, the sun shines through my window and everything seems like a new bright beginning.
through time theres always still been something not quite right.
like this house isn’t a home.
this skin isn’t meant to be my own.
this city isn’t meant for me.
the concept of time has never really sat well with me.
the idea that no matter what, you can’t slow down or speed up experiences.
I’ve never been able to decide whether its a blessing or a curse. perhaps a toss up of the two.
my mom always told me that these years would fly by and i brushed it off like the dust on the shelves that hold the books that told the stories of my child hood.
those books flew by almost a quickly as my youth.
everyday i get closer to the end.
or perhaps just getting closer to a new beginning.

more often than not lately I've found myself identifying with a dying heart. still beating. still functioning. living... barely.. but with an end in sight.
my feelings towards everything lately have been like a loaded gun. not necessarily going to cause harm, but ready to explode at the flick of a switch.
I've become so delicate, like a drop of rain on the edge of a steep roof. holding on, hardly, but on the verge of plummeting down at any second, just not quite ready to commit to holing on; or falling down to coexist with the moist heavy soil that lays below.
I used to think sadness could be beautiful or artistic, but this is neither. this is just ******* miserable.
i used to be so strong but now i am the polar opposite.
I can't have anyone take a shot at me without shattering, but I'm getting tired of picking up my mangled pieces, besides, they don't fit together quite the same anymore.  
This fragile state i have found myself existing in has left cracks and dents in every facet of my being.
but somehow the light can't quite shine through my stain glass window.
the rain just drips through the cracks.

m.k.

slowly, but definitely, i have found myself eroding away.
losing myself more to who i have become.
this isn't how its supposed to be.  i wasn't supposed to end up this way.
not me, of course not.
the feeling of being overcome have become a permanent emotion.
help has never seemed real. never a realistic answer to any of my questions.
i could walk for 10 days to find the nearest exit and it still wouldn't be good enough.
never be smart enough, never be happy enough, never be enough.
lost interest in most everything that used to even give me the slightest essence of living.
freedom is no longer free as this body has become a prison with no exit.
no matter what, i wake up the same way i fell asleep, alone.
the same way i live. alone.
words can never become enough to complete the missing links that lead to my happiness.
i used to be content, but also not at all.
now  the only way i can describe any of this is miserable.