When one meets a rock
And see an overzealous egg.

I don’t want to talk
Locked
Somewhere between my eyes and my trembling hands
I couldn’t hold the pencil
To tell you.

It fell from between my fingers
And I watched the chance to yell
Hit the ground
— my voice thins with your hair

Pixelated war in my fleshy brain
This world is real
As real as this unicorn
Ensouled to this
I will stay here instead

This is what I've wanted.
To slip under sheets and get a restful sleep,
Instead of laying awake, uncertain, unsatisfied.

I've wished to be lost in the comforts of pillows and blankets,
Not left uncovered, uncomfortable.

I've found a new bed
I've found the dream outside my head.
I finally feel alive, not dead.

           Love                                  is                      
wr­itten                    in                    stone
       which                                slowly
             fades                          to
                   sand                   ..                                          
                    ­     ..                 ..
                             . . . . . . .
                              . . . . . .
                                . . . .
                                  . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I was told
I love too much
to the wrong things
too often .