wont ask you any questions
just stick your hands inside my ribs
I'll let you hurt me
you always do

and a house is only as strong as the foundation its built upon and you've gone and done it again

She doesn't brush her hair and her eyes are the color of the devils favorite wine. When your with her you lose minutes and hours and forget the concept of time. You call her Lush, a mix of lust and rush. They said she stole everything. You tried to prove her innocent. Hold her in the palms of your hands but the girl born of water and limestone slips through your hands like sand. Your blood clots like cement and any words she speaks is an imprint. You say shes all you know but you don't know anything about her besides that she doesn't like to wear shoes and her mind is always tired from the night before. Disheveled, wild, throwing you on the unfortunate ferris wheel wanting to ruin the nature of a being who only knows nature.

semi-automatic, some would call an addict
addicted to fit descriptions of the people inside my brain

the people who i want to be, and they wash me with rain and i am thirsty but im not dying so I dont drink the storm but i drink the trying

and im not trying im existing
consisting patterns on the ceilings and the walls
blissfully and kissing my bedsheets another night of setting myself ablaze in my dreamy state, in my hazy daze

and my body is warm but the mind is cold
and its got no one to hold but its not stable enough to carry a plan and when the wind blows i become the fan and a breezy breezy palm tree on the island

always hold my own hand, and its semi-automatic
walked info traffic, and dont consider it tragic, consider it magic

I will pack up all my things and leave for the coast.

It is cold in my mind and I am
old and used and I realize I'm not wanted.
The newer things in life replace, as does each and every day, and all the things I've grown to love are a six sided pair of dice, both

snake
        eyes.

Out of all the things we did,
I miss laughing
           with you
                     the
                           most.

My mothers friend gave her a gift when I had yet to understand what life was like outside, a tiny prism set upon the top of a bookshelf against a small window, and when the sun would start to set it would cast beautiful rainbows against the walls.

And it would cast beautiful rainbows against the walls of my insides, making me get a taste of the outside.

The prism was prison bars.
Four by six in the pocket of my mother as I got older.

And she held me and closed the shudders of my mind and I called her smother.

Somedays the prism was reflections of the outside world reflecting on me, some days I was the prism taking in the outside world that I perceived.

Fairbanks Alaska
Was harsh and cold and was
Not as fair as it was originally thought.
A rifle too small for big game
And Galliens shoes two sizes too big on Chris’s feet
He set off for his last adventure
Hiked towards Stampede trail through the wind and ice
With nothing but a grin on his face and his ten pound bag of rice

there is a color for every iris
a pattern for every fabric
a cloud for every sky

a way out of every labyrinth
two hands for every handshake
A grandmother for every warm apple pie

there is someone out there for everyone

everyone but me