Ever catch yourself
caught between
the light and dark?

Has the stark contrast
blinded you, both
from lack of
and abundance of
luminescence.

Ever rounded a night corner
and prayed that the road
materialises beyond you;
that it follows the path
the very way you
imagine it?

And have you ever felt utterly ALIVE in that
frantic millisecond of uncertainty?

I have.

He writes boy on his leg
Etching the letters the world won't understand
Wishing the felt tip pen could
Break the gravestones on his chest
And fill the valley between his legs

He writes boy on his leg
It's a word kept secret in fear
He's a mustang learning his legs
And the world is a pack of vicious wolves
They don't know what to call him
Only he does

He writes boy on his leg
Takes a picture and sends it to the one he knows understands
The flash against his pale skin stark and bright
Like sleepy eyes against fresh snow

He writes boy on his skin
Because he can't write it anywhere else

tight silk ******* with the lilac bra to match,
cream coloured knee high socks.
a collection of classic rock on vinyl and a compliments jar covered in news articles.

too many celebrity perfumes, but a versace collection that makes her think of the beach;
peach smelling deoderant.

chapter books on the floor accompanied by hair ribbons of baby blue and cotton candy pink,
****** by Vladimir Nabokov laying near the juvinile pale legs of beautiful sixteen,
as she paints each toe nail red, pink, white.

almost naked body, remember her tight, fresh lace set
hair perfectly auburn, lips perfectly light coral
mouth slightly open
Led Zepplin playing.
hairspray and rose powder,
unlit vanilla candles and twilight scented creams
she smells faintly of Modern by Banana Repulic and her daddy's cigarettes.

silently waving, a flag of patriotism
the beautiful, elegant sixteen.

-part 1

conceptcollection

grab my hands, hold me tight
tell me that you're gonna be my lover tonight
tell me about all the pain and hurt you've gone through
I'm here to fix them, but I don't even have a clue
tell me you won't leave without saying goodbye
cause baby if you don't then that's my reason to go ahead and die

Her body was fragile, her body was thin
Little did we know; she threw up in the bin.
It was all in her mind “pretty girls don’t eat”
And models themselves are always petite.
But there’s always a secret, a secret behind
The reason why these girls declined
The food they were offered and the drinks they were poured
And the high calories dishes were always ignored.
Dieting and pills became the norm
And the media portrayed it as a new art form.
But this “new art form” was a dangerous entity
And no one knew its true severity
Of this illness that gets in your head
And the sinister voices that want you dead.
But you listen to them as they’re your only friend,
The ones that will be there to the very last end.

A whispering upon the ear
A red velvet touch
The flow of life

The unwavering truth
The sound of the crow.

Chills down my spine
I swear my mind
Gets out of line
Some of the time