I keep thinking if my hair looked different that night,
or if I was chewing a different flavor of gum,
things would have turned out differently.

The evening when you left,
I couldn't stand the color of the walls,
or the stains in the carpet,
I moved out within the week.

I still haven't fully unpacked,
because I'm still hoping you'll fall in love with me.

I watched the daises slowly melt
like ice cream,
and I watched the ants walk their paths
but they had no idea where they were going.

I went to the beach the other day,
and all I could think about was the patch on your belly button,
and how you overreacted about the naked children,
but mostly,
the way you looked at me when I was in the water.

When ever we listen to that song,
I imagine you ******* him,
and it's perfect.
For both of us.
I know that sounds twisted, I guess because it is.
I don't care.
If I ever get the chance to kiss you,
I'll try and do my best not to smile,
or laugh.
Oh God, that would be the worst.
I hope your music makes you happy,
and your numbers,
and your pictures,
and your fish.
The next time you need someone to help clean up,
don't ask me,
I'll be miles away.

Does it make me important if you watch me while you eat?

I know I'm nervous because I'm afraid to swallow,
and it cracks my mold,
gulping down my last ounce of  dignity,
I choke on my tongue,
and strangle myself with embarrassment.

I'm hungry for your body, so I starve myself of everything else,
hoping you'll notice how thin I am,
and do something about it.

We'll watch each others reflections
because we both share a love for film.
I've been waiting for inspiration like this,
forever.

I wouldn't say I have a particular type of lover,
and I wouldn't say I always take notice in the beauty of a smile,
sometimes I do,
but it's usually from a ***** mouth.

To think, if our bodies weren't so far apart,
separated by time, distance, clothing,
then maybe something would have happened.

It's hard to face something you've avoided your whole life,
disappointing too.

I've spent the last few weeks loving you like a God,
only to learn that you aren't perfect,
and you will never be mine,
and I'm okay with that.

I need to find myself in this mess before I can hold onto anyone that will last.

I can't stand the heat when you're gone,
it's like my sweat doesn't mean anything,
and the headaches are just there, buzzing.

When my make-up melts onto my shirt,
I just leave it on, and wear it for days.
I don't have to look nice anymore.
(Did I ever look nice?)

It was nice seeing you the other day,
even though none of this was mentioned,
I guess you haven't gotten a chance to listen yet,
or maybe you didn't want to talk about it.
It's fine if you don't.

It was weird when our lips touched,
yours were soft and perfect and everything I imagined,
but it wasn't a kiss,
it happened twice,
but it still wasn't a kiss.

We're both humans,
and I like the little ways we prove it to each other,
(I'm glad you like it too).

Thanks for the drink,
I really needed it.

It is with the simplicity of a single sheet of paper that these words are coming out of me.

None at all.  

Struggling, aching with potential.
Clouding the emptiness, growing heavier.
Getting so heavy.
Bursting forth, victoriously impulsive and unprepared.
Leaping!

Falling from the lips, and dying, too fragile to endure
the critical gaze of the beautiful.

The senten ces be gin to break apart into syllab les
and then in
to
lett
ers

the     substance of
m   y
int       er actions wi th
oth    ers

dying


in

t
h


e


**mud.

The momentary images he kept flickering continually

Emanating and enclosing the grained world

All I could see was his right hand, held still, his body rising and disappearing so rapidly

His line, the halo of himself, appearing cast and steadied

I visualized the momentary rising of the memory they had retained

And it left around the parted rainbow and became rays of the sun

Skimming hard and low below the blue

The current above the wind was always there

Sometimes I would see him wake

Smashed into the crevice of himself

And I would let it touch where he had kept

He turned inches and lowered his strength

my idol led me to his office
and shut the door behind us:
first glance, piles of paper, not unusual
but then, the glasses atop a teetering stack(!)
so i raised an eyebrow
and he grinned
it was a dare
put them on he said without speaking
so i did.
hesitantly, yes, but i did.

XRAY VISION i cried
shh he said with a finger to my lips
it's my secret and you can't let anyone know
of course not i said
then i shook my head in wonder
so this is how it's done
this is how you know
how you strip them down
they are naked and trembling
you poke and **** to find
the weak spots and then
you offer them to the world:
a subhuman sacrifice.

this turns me on i said
can we? please?
put them on
what do you see?
if i'm already bare
and willingly exposed
can you still pick me apart?
i sacrifice myself, does that
make you blind?

you're sitting across from this sharp-tongued old lady at the breakfast table,
she has odd clothes, a double chin and boots that squeak.
You don't like her much, but she doesn't like you either.
It's a mutual annoyance.
You're sweating a little because she makes you nervous,
and you forgot to put on deodorant before leaving the house,
and she's scrunching her face up and sniffing loudly to let you know that she can smell you.

You watch her as she eats, slowly, as if she'd never eat again,
crumbs from her toast sprinkle her face, you want to reach out and brush them off for her,
but you're afraid that your fingers will melt into her butter-like skin.
The thought was real, and unconscious.

The sort of way a boys thoughts should always be, if you ever get one like that,
keep him in that state as long as you can.