"i'll love you until that balloon deflates"
a 3 am lie.
pining over old prom dates,
trying not to die.
don't act like we're first mates.
stop making me cry.
devours. he satiates.
i'm grasping air, i'm a shallow sigh.

A boy told me he loved me the other day.
I looked at him, confused,
and told him not to love me.
Not to waste something so valuable on something so insignificant.
So he simply put his arms around my broken bones and told me instead,
“I adore you.
I adore all your quirks,
I adore all your dreams,
I adore all your scars,
I adore all your faults,
I adore you.”

It is a lighter burden to be adored than loved.

Everything
is a trap.
Everywhere I go
the monster is waiting
to eat me alive.
The sensation starts
on the inside, in my
Stomach,
turning and churning.
It moves to my
heart,
causing a beat that could
be heard around the world,
gripping terror
speeding up the thumps.
From there,
It can reach my whole body.
My head,
whispering words of discouragement
My hands,
trembling and spilling everything.
My legs,
refusing to let me run
away from the monster.
And so
I go only where I am
safe.
I don't go out
because the monster that is
me
always knows where I am.
It's all in my head
which makes it harder to
fight off.  I have
no chance.
I will never
escape
this
trap.

The sight of blood
You think I would have grown accustomed to it
After all, I've released so much
Wrecking pencil sharpeners, staining sheets
Blood has been a steady companion of mine these past few years
So it came as a surprise to find myself so weak
Heart racing, body shaking just at the sight of a movie
A death scene I knew was coming
But I couldn't foresee how much it shook me
Breaking down in public is hard
Trying to hide your mind falling apart
Its not something anybody should have to do
Part of that ****** hand life has dealt me
But have,  what else is new?

Close your eyes.
Do you hear it?
The soft ticking in the background;
The sound of ink being punched onto parchment.

When you blow out your candles,
close your eyes,
and listen as the paper is reset.
Life is like a typewriter,
equipped with limited paper and red, Red ink ribbon.

Every action:
word, breath, kiss,
is stamped onto parchment.
Some people try to white it out,
forget it ever happened.
But turn the page over,
place it in front of the flame
and the red ink will be there,
a constant reminder.
Read what you’ve written,
be astonished by words,
and ashamed of phrases.
But accept the idea that it is the past, and cannot be undone.

Nothing is planned, for the parchment ahead is blank,
but this is not always a bad thing:
A blank page is like an open trail.
You’re free from restrictions and guidelines.

Will you sit with me,
close your eyes,
and listen for our typewriters?
One day,
when I re-read my story,
I hope you will always be in there,
somewhere close.

Glimmering lights from the powerful skyline,
reflected like jet flames in the River Thames.
Lights multiplied by the flash of a camera,
capturing beauty in it's searching lens.

I wasn't so sure of here before,
but now I know there will always be
a place in my heart for this great city.
A home, a hub for the bustling race.

Some say mind over matter,
I say heart over mind,
but my heart has learned to love
that which my mind has made a matter.

you say i trust to equal those in the past
whom have brought only pain and hatred
upon those in their wake?
well it's time to take a look in the mirror
my friend, no, wait, don't do that,
i wouldn't want to inflate your ego
it would come as no surprise to me if in that
mirror you would only see the eighth wonder
of the world, ever wondered if you could see
the world? i take that back, there is no sense
in snapping and losing my temper,
but all i'm doing is back tracking and
finding my self exempt of the respect that i
deserve, only you can serve to notice
the pain that you have harboured
upon the empty hearts of which now yearn
for that ever self-loving and i can only leave
you with this advice

turn around and back off
that ain't love it's idolatry.

broken glass on the floor
spread out, oh so evenly.

you know,
i broke that mirror.

it was me, who realized
that beauty shatters
us all.

those vile words,
so twisted and cruel;
they, too, cut us until
we bleed.

we bleed
until we are pretty,
pretty enough
for ourselves

and no one else.