And if I could go back
I'd never tear my lips off your neck
Never unlock my fingers from your hair
Keep my nails etched into your back
And my eyes locked
Straight on yours.
If I could go back
I'd take your earlobe in my mouth
And whisper
Until the words were burned into your dreams
Don't let me go
Don't let me go
Don't let me go
Don't let me go.

I want her to tell me that she needs me.
That she loves me.
That she can't do without me.
That I've helped her so much and that she's ******* grateful for it.
Like I help her when nobody else can.
Like I understand her like nobody else can.
I want her to say that she enjoys spending time with me and loves me for me and has things to say to me and it's not just me being crazy and it's not just me obsessing over a girl who will never quite love me like I love her and who finds me so intensely annoying but ultimately harmless to the extent that she just keeps me around because it's easier but all the while is pretty disgusted at so many aspects of me including my mind my body my personality my beliefs my desires my achievements what I love and what I hate. What I look like and how I'm not cool and how it all just adds up to me not being good enough and me loving her so much that I just want to sew my skin to hers like a parasite or a conjoined twin or a clown beneath the mask of her. I want to be so close to her that her blood mixes with mine and our organs **** together like wet sand and we globulate and tessellate until there is nothing left of us apart, no white and black, no confused and certain, no happy and sad, just a huge, *****, grey mess of monotone colours mixed and mixed and oh it will be so beautiful and so sad and so unlike anything you have ever seen before.

Show me all your sides
Let me trace your angles with my tongue
And bite your edges with my enamelled teeth.
Show me all the ways in which you curve
And I'll demonstrate my own contorted corners.
Lay your blueprints on the table
Let me wonder at the architecture of you.
Trace your plans onto thin paper
And we can tessellate;
until you're happy at last .

The black man stalks my dreams again.
With his oil spill eyes
And venomous smile
He speaks in tounges
And bent up promises.

He jokes, Call me Cain.
Adam Judas Satan Jesus
Gabriel ******* Whale.
I call him the Whale
For he has swallowed me whole.

He is the flood
and I am swept away debris.
He calls me Seven
(That *******)
One for every sin I've mastered.

no sound without silence
no peace without love
you must have your highs and lows
there is nothing so maddening as a flat line
to know your own composure within yourself,
you must throw yourself into different activities
only then can your soul remain whole
while the ocean around you is flat, you run the risk
of running over, of blending into the surroundings
force makes you solid and shows you who you are
inactivity, boredom, wears away and erodes at your good character
if you don't use it, you lose it.