Thought
                w
      a
v
              e
                    ­      s
Brain
                                    w
                     a
                                              v
               ­                   e
                        s
P T E N
  A T R S.

M        i          n         e
    are      all      the

                                    same.

I've heard you talk about
the way she rubs her diamonds
on your naked soul,
and the way photographs
make you nervous,
as if the frozen people
could somehow thaw.
You keep forgetting
that winter is just beginning.

We've been taking short cuts
handed out to us from the
u-n-i-v-e-r-s-e.

Don't be jealous,
they hurt:
like the rough bark
that surrounds and
protects a tree.
like a passionate
"I hate you"
passed from one
to another.
like an answering
machine instead of
a-

"Hello?"

If darkness is absolute,
then I will hold you forever.

My heart is beating so fast
that it's hard to tell how long it's been,
since the taste of our kiss
began to eat away at my lips.

My elbows are bruised
from leaning across the table,
trying to get a better look at you.

I love you, but you're filthy,
and I'd rather have you dead than crazy.

I want to feel you tremble beneath my skin,
and I want you to hum me a lullaby.

My phone broke
and my voice cracked,
there's no hope left for me.

We will listen, and cry together,
because we’re full of hesitation.
and you’re my inspiration.

The good things we feel
make up for all the bad ones.
The pleasure from hugging you goodbye
made up for the feeling of loss.
Your return
will heal the feeling of abandonment.

Our voices will seem different,
because we've changed so much
from the inside out.

I'm sure everyone would want me
to say hello,
they just don't know what I'm doing.

I'm pretty sure writing is a form
of talking to yourself.

Someone spilled a bunch of drinks,
everything is wet.
(I was the only one who noticed).

There are a bunch of dodgy glances
flooding the cafe,
I'm pretty sure it's always like this,
it's just more apparent
because of the current explosion of people.

Being surrounded
is just like being forced
to do something.

I'm not sure what I mean by that though,
so don't bring it up,
ever.

Sometimes we touch each other accidentally,
then it's awkward.
Next time,
I'll say I did it on purpose,
(or be more careful).

Tripping on your wires
tangling myself in you.

Touching:
your skin:
so sweet
so soft,
so tender:
smooth as milk.

You shine up at me
like a thousand stars
your light strips me raw.

Soft as grass
sweet as sugar
you will be my only lover.

I can't sing serious.

ice cold as the stones
from the road in the winter, frozen cold.

bare feet on blacktops
make everything sad!
walking on ladder swings
make everything confusing!

dont know what to say, dont give a ****.

close your eyes
lose yourself in the jump
clip off your nails
and sew on some teeth
eating all the people
with knees and trees
and bees.

hot wax on fingertips
reminds me of your lips.

all of these shades of
black and white wake me up
in such a ****** mood.

want to get out
want to get in
want to move away
from here.

I am a master,
but I'm not the creator.
I'll spell it our for you
but I wont explain it.
I'll paint you a picture
but I wont show it to you.

I'll walk in your door
just to walk  out,
give you an adjective
and take away the verbs

fingers tight
lips loose
feet going for fast
I'll erase your face.

We're humans being humans,
together.
Inspiration from your kiss,
it's leaking from your lips.

Distant eye contact with a woman ******* on a lollipop,
staring at identical twins sharing an umbrella,
punch your legs until you fall asleep.

This life is losing its charm:
dying is the best idea you've ever had.

Ignoring your silence as I scream
you fade into nothing, you're my adolescent dream.

Burying a body to it's neck
you paint the face and
sprinkle dirt on the remains of the rotting life.

Darkness,
or something more?

fifty bricks to the head
cheese grater to the teeth
****** gums and cheeks
crossed arms and a pile of dried out pens
scalp scratched into nothing
a dry desire and an empty mouth full of empty words.

A suicide note scribbled in a composition book
it used to be your journal
but the pain of writing got old
and you needed the time to sleep.

Names dissolve from importance to nothing.

Reflecting from the shadows and burnt out veins
I still believe in those painted remains.