Lace on my thighs and fringe around my neck,
more is revealed than the flowing crimson blood.
Bleeding deeper and deeper with every slowed breath.

Deeper than the girls I see with their shoulders against the wall,
the dream girls with their purple hair and tattered tights.
My neck growing saturated with strawberry nightmares,
but at least they like my tattoos.

I feel the black cats circling my ankles,
cries of hunger and any form of normalcy or stability.
It feels familiar, like a hymn from my childhood
throbbing between my ears.

Overlooking other's carnage is easy, until it's your own.

I don't know what this means, but it comforts me.

I dance barefoot in my driveway,
letting the cold gravel indent into my toes
making me feel like a kid again.

I can still taste the rocket pop syrup on my lips,
and smell the grass stains on my levis
Sitting in my sandbox, staring up at the clouds.

Dreams of being a writer, an explorer.
Someone with intention and aspiration,
who stays glowing with fire.

The childhood within me finally came to age,
and I hope she's as proud of me as I am.

Hot pancakes at 11 PM,
dark roast coffee that burns my mouth,
Vanilla wafers and skim milk,
Moby's soft meow when she circles my toes,
the view from my messy desk,
frigid winter days,
frigid winter nights,
showing others my favorite movies,
feeling myself,
hearing loved ones say my name,
the thought of a stable future,
forehead kisses,
bad cult classics,
spontaneous day trips,
the ability to live for new things,
the feeling that I'll make it out just fine,
now knowing I'll make it out just fine

Waiting rooms with gray walls and spotted brown carpet,
Scattered with crying babies and outdated magazine stands
Tideous clickings of pens on clipboards writing in medical histories

Everyone is waiting on something here
and for the first time, I don't feel sick in the lobby

Smooth words with hungry conversation stay my new elixir
While the impulses in my brain dispell
and the world dwindles into states of impertinence

Who knew good company could soothe the cure for a neuromaniac

One of the seven hues our eyes perceive on the rainbow spectrum,

I used to lie in bed and wish I could lift the burden of the darkest shade of indigo

Deep denim like the veins in my arms, the ocean at night, and the thoughts swimming deeply in my head

My eyes, a steady tone of cerulean, brighten glassier than the sky on a clear Summer's day

The smell of Spring and new life, tiny robin eggs, and sapphire forget-me-nots

Eating arctic cotton candy with berry jelly beans, my tongue stays an artificial tone of teal

Blue makes me feel human and I'm trying wholeheartedly to live in full color

You just met your match made in interpersonal paradise
where the clouds seem to dissipate and
the imaginary fields of ten feet tall sunflowers never wither in the sun

Was it in your own personal utopia with clear visions?
The kind like the top of a balcony you go to think at night when your parents are fast asleep
Or maybe your starry-eyed dream,
one of a love story with a never-ending tale

It's just a gray matter lost city begging to be explored
with the idea of never being alone
Like a fantasy, quenching every primitive thirst
more than any other substance is capable of relieving

I'll gladly be your self-control, if you stay my voice of reason.