When your breathing quickens
And your mind sways
Things just don't seem okay

When you're doomed to your bed
Your body glued to the sheets
You know life is something you can't cheat

Sometimes I think getting sick
Is the Universe's way of making sure
You know you can't run with your *** up, you're a *****

It is a known fact that:
Humans are born with two fears,
The fear of falling
And the fear of loud noises.

The fear of falling in love
And the fear of saying "I love you"

i've always admired water,
its tendency to take the
path of least resistance,
gently eroding without
being openly abrasive.
and i've always admired
you, though our definition
of always seems to differ
and the [drip-drop] of
(water-clocks) has long
since gone out of style.

have you ever felt electric?
charged; ionic, or maybe
something not so particular;
that's the feeling of another
connection being made,
threads of elastic static
woven together on some
great unknown loom
somewhere -- or maybe
just by our own weary
fingers.
              i digress, in that;
this isn't really about any
water, or electricity, or
some cosmic idea of how
we become connected, bound,
souls sewn with steel stitches.
i guess it's really just about
this one thought stuck
bouncing around like
a plectrum in a sound
[hole].
           /i could carry your
heart, like other writers/
and you're the only one
who would appreciate it./

Let’s teach one another
all the algorithms
of love.
We can balance
the chemistry
and learn each other’s
foreign languages.
We can walk down the hallways
of each other’s minds
and I can carry your literature.
I will learn the beat
to your music
and you can jot down notes
about the anatomy
of my heart.
Let’s meet in the
solitude of the library
so I can study your history
and
when the time is right,
we can explore the geography
of one another.

Supposedly beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Which is super gay
So when I say you are beautiful
This is what I mean

You are beautiful in the same way
That the word, “believe” in sign language
Can translate to being married to your own thoughts

When a person sees something beautiful
Their pupils can increase up to 45 percent in size
I’m not high today I swear
Just that
You surprise me every time

Your left lung is smaller than your right
So it can make room for your heart
That’s just biology

And when they say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach
When people blush
Their stomach lining turns red too

Laughing lowers stress
A 7 year old can laugh almost six hundred times in one day
An adult
13 to 100
I want to make you laugh like we are 7 again

I was 7 once
I’ve had seventeen years practice since then

When you put a shell to your ear
What you are really hearing is the sound of your own blood
Rushing through your ears
There is a ******* ocean inside of you
That swells like lungs
And rushes a steady current of mostly
Unattractive creatures
You are like the bottom of the sea
All single celled and fight for life
In darkness

And maybe that doesn’t seem too beautiful
But you don’t really know what’s down there
Do you?

You are beautiful like old people
Who think you are sweet
Because you’ve had enough patience
To match their pace
“I don’t know when I got old” she said
“But I wasn’t ready. It took me ten years to figure this place out.
“I’m 94. I don’t have another ten.”
And she kissed me

Beautiful like poetry
When poetry hurts the most
When it gives you goose-bumps

And I bet if I stuck my arm inside a music box
To let my chilled skin pluck the metal keys inside
There wouldn’t be music
I am too soft
And it would hurt
But it looks like if I were hard enough
There might be
It would sound like chaos
The keys are beautiful
But the sound inconsistent

Beautiful
Like the collaboration of molecules
That understood pointillism enough to make me
But still experimental
So they gave me cancer
And I’m shorter than I want to be
And I am pretty sure they are laughing
About what they did to my brain
But my lungs are perfectly uneven
So my heart can pump oceans
So I can move and be stupid
And do things like tell you

You are ******* beautiful

I awoke to screaming

Only it wasn't my own
This time, it appeared
Someone had invaded my home
I got up quickly

I reached for my bat
But knew that if anything would help
It probably wouldn't have been that
But still, quietly I crept down the stairwell

In the kitchen stood a man
Or what appeared to be
He gazed at me and raised his hand
One finger to his lips, "Shhh"

So I raised my eyebrows and opened my mouth
To speak but he shushed me louder
This time and lowered himself into a crouch
And that's when I saw what he had done

Below his massive, crouched down frame
Was a shattered bottle of milk
He stared at it solemnly, knowing he was to blame
Then he looked back up at me

"Please don't tell my mother."
A single tear rolled down his big face
"She loves me like no other."
The tears were streaming now

I didn't know what to say
Here was a hulking man, in my kitchen
I suddenly felt I could no longer stay
If I go back up stairs will he leave? Or **** me in my sleep?

I backed up a little and said
"If you just go now,
I'll just be getting back to bed."
He smiled, his tears glinting off moonlight

"Thank you! But please! Turn around."
And for some reason I did
When I turned back, he was nowhere to be found
The milk was cleaned too, glass and all

I scratched my head in disbelief
I was still groggy from sleep
Anyone ever heard of a break, weep and clean?
I'd think not
I'd like to think not

SoCo on a monday night,
Alabama song playing lightly,
Tickle fights and cigarettes.
Feeling electric and wild,
blissful and free.
There may be other people,
but for now it's you and me.