tea leaves and a bowl of mints, you're craving a time that left you years ago, now you're seeing yellow every time you blink, but life's not a filter on dreams and if you keep eating pomegranates without salt it could be a problem, your fingertips are already purple from holding too much ice so what will happen to your insides? sparks eventually die out, fires do too, but sometimes they don't, they just take longer to forget and you can't cut flames and smoke with chainsaws like you try to do with your feelings so remember to hold your smile in place and climb every fence it takes for you to slowly learn your red painted constellated lessons

-look at the sky more often, it puts your day into perspective so that all the burn marks you thought were going to be blue holes in your skin feel like galaxies instead; the sky's taken up your problems so that you have none and you're still crying about a 56 on your science test, one that won't matter in the long run.
-drink water, flush out all the worries and fears and bad vibes with each swallow, you're not eating rocks for dinner anymore. you're flowing with so many ideas and thoughts and talents inside, make sure you don't drown them.
-fold your collars back down, you can keep your guard up using the bones in your neck but you're strong enough to withstand a little wind here and there. maybe you don't need the practice anymore but the sun while shine on you anyway like the moon still keeps watch and eventually you'll have nothing to be wary of fighting about

you talked like you inked the water green, maybe its sparkles came from the ones in your eyes, that explains the darkness that replaced your pupils in a deep rich purple, when did the fences become so tall that we stopped bothering to climb them, did it bother you that the iron was coated in hard red glass, when we passed by the breakfast diner at 3:42am eight nights ago it shook you up how much freedom you've yet to use up and that's the same reason you left later that morning without packing up anything but a bag of m&ms; and your favourite navy blue travelling blanket, the one with the corner snagged on all the glistening dreams dripping with untreated finality we've yet to accomplish and horror stories by campfires lit to radiate up the dimmest nights, the fact that your silver coated camera is still sitting on your bed says a lot about where you're headed but the fact that the neon frozen yogurt sign is illuminating bright against the ink of the night says a lot about how i'm coping even when my tires are screeching and my legs are bleeding metals you didn't tell me about because our time wasn't spent timed right, the water's turning blue and it shines, not sparkles anymore, i'm climbing fences again so often my hands and knees are bruised yellow and brown, i don't eat breakfast anymore and i'm everything but free but the photos on your camera roll are of apologies, caramel constellations and citrus fruits all in the forms of lies and truths and promises

Smiles that drip with gold sadness and
Run from estranged places go hand in hand with
Blue perspectives and unheard words,
But I’d escape to anywhere with you
By my side if it meant
Danger and orange sunsets
Stale coated eyes and huge skies
Because you taught me that happiness
Is not viable if its not laconic
And the fewest of beating clocks were
Enough to last both a night and 7
Dollars in mere coins

He creeps into your vision with a slight smile
When you're almost least expecting him
Sometimes you don't even know he's there
Sometimes he's just a shadow with a knife

"Hold on you need that" he whispers as your mind starts to spin
To a point where you can't think about anything else
"You know you need it" the echo in the back of your mind
Not sure of who's making the sound

Sometimes you see him in others
When their eyes light up with malice
Sometimes he's not as strong
He plays nice, for the few that are worthy and in that moment he helps

"Such a pretty little thing" the voice creeps across you're mind but you're unaware someone else is speaking.
"Don't you need her?"
He's there but some don't notice
Some don't even worry about it they just take what he whispers in mistake it's their own voice speaking

He's a cute little pesky demon
Clouding your vision in all types of form
The need, the desire, the yearning
It's a game you see played by someone else just below the threshold of conciseness

With a smile on my face,
I hope I die in
a subtle grace.
And I hope you, too
smile when you know
I'm in the ground
of some burning town.


I hope the birds
chew up worms,
and feed them to my
open mouth.
I hope the dirt
becomes my friend,
And hugs me,
warm,
Like you never did.

What plays most on his mind
is her mulish way and
how her stubborn words roll
off her scarlet tongue --
She's intractable.

When forehead crevasses interrupt her
softness like a fog cast over
the morning meadow,
only love can  
subdue her argument.
She's intractable.  

There is a mountain of
dissent to scale for him
to touch her tenderly.
Her noisy defiance
remains endearing to those
untouched by her resilience.
To others, she's intractable.