I* am jealous of
your *bed
your sheets
your shirts and perfume
and smoke of your cigarette

because they wrap and cloud around you
touch you, feel your dark, soft skin
feel your warmth

when I cannot do those things
when I am too far away
spending my lonely afternoons
wishing to be

your bed
your sheets
your shirts and perfume
and smoke of your cigarette.

Get a tailor.
If speeches are edited, so should your clothes.
Suits shouldn’t be as big as your dreams.

Marry and be miserable;
or stay a bachelor and
bite the bullet at the ballot box.
Don’t love your mistresses.
Never let a mistress fall in love with you.

Cultivate coldness over glass of sweet tea
and write your principles in pencil,
but keep erasers handy.
Lead gets heavy with idealism.

Cover your tracks with charm,
but keep track of your steps.
Push down ladders as you climb them.

Finally, when you see your reflection in the gloss of your desk
and feel the smooth curves of your cherry bookshelves,
remember that under that finish are the remnants
of what once stood tall and proud.
A glossy exterior can only hope to mask a wild past.

And when you tire of tamed marble;
seeing yourself reflected in nature cut and polished,
come to the sea.
Cast off your leather shoes
– those casualties of your closet –
Roll your suit pants.
Stand firm and absolute.

You, the blond, bright-eyed pilgrim–
camouflaged in slate suits and
ties that hang like nooses.
Love the biting wind as it tousles your hair.
The coldness that demands to be felt.
Let it break like the surf, through your suit
and note the driftwood as it crashes to shore.
So smooth and strange.
A product of its past,
perfect in its imperfection.

When you wash off the make-up,
Who is there, pretty girl?
Did anyone even notice
Those pretty curls?
Are you upset because you
Tried so hard for nothing?
I mean, were you actually expecting something?
Silly girl, you know not to rely.
Why would you go and get your
Hopes up so high?
Just smoke your cigarette and
Go back to bed.
And next time,
Try to use your head.

Youth is a ****** up place.
We walk around with the blind fold of adolescence covering our eyes.
Nine times out of ten you'll step the wrong way and fall of the edge.
The most ****** up thing about youth,
Is the labels.
People judge you,
You judge them,
Creating an instant stand still of insecurity and intimidation.
A lot of stress can come from the labels you but on other people,
But sometimes we forget to look at the labels we are putting on ourselves.
We try so hard to fit in,
To be something we aren't.
We want to have the same label that everyone else has,
And society accepts it.
But why not be different,
Why not stand out,
Why not stand up for something you believe in,
Something that you can call your own,
Why not,
Be yourself.

I want to love
But I don't know how
Is it a feeling
Is it a smell
Will I find it through a bottle
Or maybe a puff
I look for it
I can't contain this lust

No, you're wrong.

Everyone is as beautiful
as they can possibly be

Particularly at lunch
in a laughing restaurant

Everyone is as beautiful
as they can possibly be

And they are moved
by their own beauty

And they shed tears for it
in the back of the taxi home

I let it all out to a stranger tonight..
its helpful.
there are more tears
but
that's okay.

he wants your lips
on his
he wants your chest
in his hands
he wants your waist
against his.

he wants your skin
on his
he wants your hands
on him
he wants your legs
on his.

he doesnt want you
he doesnt want your intelligence
he doesnt want your laughter
he doesnt want you.

they say this isn't real
and neither are we
but they don't know what i feel
they don't know what i see

this is as real as it gets
and i'll never forget
the way you held my hand
as i held my breath

why wouldn't this be real?
my heart is yours to steal
how much hurt can one girl take?
my heart is yours to break

they say this is a phase
but how could that be
phases are for moons
not for me

why do they care what we do?
this is between me and you
when they locked us in this cage
they filled our tired minds with rage

how could so much love
inspire so much hate?
they shoot us all down
then act like they're the saints

well it's time to rise up
we know what we feel

i wonder how they'll react
when we decide to fight back

so let them try to beat us
with their hate-filled hearts
love always trumps hate
and light overcomes dark