"You have to prepare yourself for her,
I could never just stand still and greet her;
it was too much at once

her eyes are like magnetic portals,
just waiting to teleport your soul
into a completely different realm of paradise

anything and everything is the greatest time of your life
when you have the moon with you

feeling her veins is my favourite sport,
it's intense...
like when your father lets you walk to school by yourself
for the first time
and you are desperately looking for the road sign

you finally see it and your entire body state changes,
you feel safe and relieved;

that feeling times by 33 thousand."

- G.M

My god, I'm sick of belonging
I'm sick of being owned
I'm sick of being limited to what ever the **** it is that some ***** decides is fitting to define me as

you don't know me
I don't even know me
what the **** makes you think that you,
with your cookie-cutter shape, stereotype inducing, boxed-into-labels mentality of thinking is going to understand me?

I am a planet in my own right;
as a result of my own entity,
my own ******* thoughts and claims and efforts and achievements,
rather than as an assosciate of  another or a product of someone else

I am a ******* constellation of thoughts that your mind
could not even begin to fathom

once glance of my mind would send yours sideways

a one minute preview of what wraps itself around the deep,
bottomless, abyssal interrior of my skull
would entise you to smash your own

inside of me there are a thousand words, stirring
arranging the perfect sequence within their placement of my being
in order to concoct a storm worth being read;
not skimmed and mistaken as a light drizzle
but instead,
thoroughly scanned and recognised
as the tornados, the blizzards that they are,
kicking up a fuss and wiping out everything in their way

I possess an entire novels worth
including a sequel and trilogy

I am a story in my own right;
a book that you believe to have conquered and completed
a vaguely transparent, generic tale in which you believe to have mastered and defeated
but little do you know
that you have ventured barely as far as the first page

what lies within me is far beyond the reach
of the dainty intermediate level
in which you consistently surround yourself in
as though it is your safety blanket or comforter
as though you are a child with anxiety and mediocrity is your prozac

I am more than a brick in the wall of the kingdom
that you box your entire tiny, narrow universe into
and confine yourself within
in seek of refuge from a great perhaps

A boy

not a boy, but a soul;
an entity
a field of energy
positive energy
but hidden energy also

he was scared
or sad
or lonely

perhaps simultaneously all

you could see it in his eyes;
eyes as blue and wavering as the ******* sea, and his emotions

they betrayed him in a sense of portraying his deepest of feelings
even when he made feeble attempts to fight otherwise

one glimpse into them and you were graced
with a show reel preview
of his entire life

childhood memories
christmas with the entire family
brokenness and disputes
as unsettling as his beauty when he caught you off-guard

his features were as strong
and dark
as the chaos that stirred within him

a jawline sculpted like no other
hand-crafted for his individual attriibutes
thick, shapely brows and lashes the colour of coal;
a statement within themselves against the lightest of ivory skin

there's a saying "you look like you've seen a ghost"
in reference to someone looking ghoulishly pale
and whilst that is fitting of his porcelain complexion,

he wouldn't have seen the ghost: he was the ghost
that's just how he was
he was never the sub-heading
or the sypnosis

he was the entire story
he was it
everything

something within him was magnetic
and in each person he came acoss
there was metal tucked away
within them that they were unaware of

drawing them to him

Your teeth sunk into my skin
in the same way that your words infiltrate my brain
and soak into my mind
letting themselves print repeatedly
like a student writing lines

My legs were as un-*******-stable as my heart
and I could feel my knees trembling
in the same way that my bottom lip was

and even though the seats of the bus stop were only a short reach away
soon you wouldn't be
so I said nothing
and continued to stand with your arms around me
like I was your favourite belonging
that you were sheltering from damage

and I took the un-even strings of your hoodie into my hand
and traced onto your chest as though I was stitching up the wounds
of your shattered heart
and the blood that I could feel pouring out of it

but instead,
I traced the word "****"
and I got on my bus
and I left you
before you could leave me

I memorised each trace of your skin on my fingertips
like a person without sight feels for their surroundings
and relies on touch alone for security
to feel around their home

If I listen to your sobs closely enough
I can hear them chanting my name