perfect lips
perfect hips
perfect eyes
perfect skies
but i will still
never be enough
for any of those guys

pony-tailed playmate
head tucked in her shirt
gazing steadily down
at her toes in the dirt

chaos tiptoes around her
naive oblivion
journeys in far away lands
just west of the meridian

watercolor fairy tales
bleeding outside the lines
unaware of the danger
unaware of the signs

let me sit with you, darling
in the dampened flower beds
and paint a new world
for us in our heads

more of us
more to miss
the more the merrier
more guests

more of you
more like this
more of the same
more or less

more of the life
more with you
more of a home
more like I knew

more of it all
more for me
more of the dark
no more to see

more of everything
more and more and more
until its more like nothing
anymore

Please make it stop

My head hurts
My hearts a lot

Please make it stop


It’s a shame I don’t believe in god

Are you still radical
If you are defined as radical
Or trapped
In a categorical cliche
Of what you were trying to avoid

Light was drained as darkness grew
Revealing each shining star
Each used to map out the future

The moon gives a subtle glow
Providing comfort while we lay awake
For it’s such a pleasure to bask in its glory

You could stare at the sky everyday
and still you would not see everything it has to offer