If you're planning on poisoning me with sunshine
Give me an antidote of shades and blinds
ahead of time.

Your sun hurts my eyes when you leave it behind.

Eyes can be the worst of enemies
They've had me wading in tears
up to my knees
And now I'm waiting with fears
produced by my greed
and longing for what my eyes have seen

Depressed for time and pressed for happiness

I'm always right

So I'm right when I say I don't deserve anything good anyway

I made the slit
Dug my finger tips in the crevace
And pulled until the wound bled free
All you had to do was smear the blood on my face in the shape of a heart
I broke my heart over you
And now I'm all apart

I'm Sorry.

I'M SORRY FOR APOLOGIZING
I'M SORRY THAT I HAD TO
BUT I WILL FOREVER WEAR
MY APOLOGIES ON THE SLEEVE
OF YOUR STRIPED CARDIGAN

People are just furniture
used to decorate living rooms
and add comfort to them

It's always 11:11
and everyday is
April 1st

Some things are bigger than
the razor blades
That now seem to cut shallow

We didn't applaud for the performance in front of us
Because that would mean letting go of what we held onto
So we sat in silent appreciation
Not only for the show,
but for the moment we lived in that was real.

I don't deserve

to allow anyone else

to feel undeserving

of me

I don't own any vases

but I like the look of dead flowers better anyway.

They are a better suitor.

I've learned that happiness isn't something that you pursue

It's not a goal.

It's a lifestyle.


And I've learned that happiness isn't a situational thing

It's not a special time

It just comes in the package with your personality traits.


And I've learned that I haven't found happiness

And I shouldn't go looking for happiness

And that happiness won't find me,

because I simply don't know how to be happy in the happiest of times.

Sometimes things are too familiar
to be changed by the name of a date
or the face of a feeling
or the feeling of being smitten.

Sometimes things are too familiar
and freshly arranged flowers won't change
a past that has already been written

However,
Some things can offer fresh fruit
...but some things should never be bitten.

But I'll bite,
and I'll fight
written scripts with lines for me to speak

because I am oh so very smitten.

I dip my toes in the water,
but not to feel the temperature
because I already know that it's hot

I only do it because it feels good to have hot feet
with a torso that's full of snow.

All I need is someone to be lonely with,
So come be lonely with me,
We'll live in Alonedom together.

Sometimes I think about myself
and how I'm a performer
a dancer,
and what that means.

And I think about other performers
and their labels
actors and actresses
and how I'm only a dancer.

Then I think,
Who am I kidding?
I act all the time,
I'm just so good that nobody can tell

And then I think about all the other actors
and how they're really dancers
and they're dancing all the time,
They're just so good that nobody can tell.

And then I think about all of the people
and how they're all performance
And how every morning the curtain is drawn
and we're watching a concrete stage on a sidewalk.

Just some people don't realize they're performing.

So once there is nothing left beneath my feet
except the stone cold floor on which I sleep
I have stand up and touch my toes
to cure my aching back made of stone
and I have to find a way
to bring myself to life
and I'm sure the only way
is to bring myself to light.

Knowledge and emotions
don't go hand-in-hand

And there's a fine line
between being considerate and selfish

And things never make sense
and I've begun to think that
people shouldn't walk hand-in-hand either.

There are nights like tonight

When the world is ending again,

But this time it's not your fault.

And you wish that the fault was yours,

So as to have a reason to be with everybody else.

And you wish that he wasn't so lonely

And you wish that a different he liked to be lonely like you do

And you wish that you didn't like being lonely like you do

And you wish that another he was lonely

And you wish that she knew that you were lonely, but assumed you were sad.

And you wish that you didn't enjoy brooding

But then you could be happy with something else for a change.

And you wish that you knew what a real smile looked like,

Because you don't believe that you've ever truly seen one

And you wish you were a little meaner so you could seem a little happier

And you wish you were a little different  so you could want to be happier

And he wishes you were a little nicer because he doesn't know what mean is

And a different he wishes you were meaner so you could be somebody else

And a different he doesn't even know that you're nice at all.

And you wish that he thought you to be a sadist.

And you don't know why.

Maybe you just want to feel bad-***.

Maybe you just want to feel something new.

Maybe you know that he wants you to be something new.

Maybe you don't know that he is something new,

and you will be forever the same,

forever alone

an maybe you like it that way.

What's the use of a weapon
When I have no ammunition?

I can hold a  weapon
I can worry people with it
I can feel strong
Fool people.

And what's the use of having a weapon
When I have no aggression?

I can let it build up inside of me
I can see people look at me
Because I know the build up is making me shake
and they don't know why I do that.

Instead of owning a pointless weapon
I'll be a horrible person
Evil even

Because what's the point of being nice
When the evils have everything to gain and nothing to lose?

So this time I'm going to be evil

I'm going to load my gun and give it away.

When there's nothing to say
I'll say nothing at all

But I'll say the same thing
When there's everything to say.

Nothing at all.

I'm not good at affection
But I've heard it's a skill worth learning
So maybe I'll do some exercises
because practice makes perfect

Give some hugs
Look at eyes
Give some love
Say some highs

Then I remember;
It takes two to ****.

Things can fall apart so easily
but for some reason things never fall together
They can come together
You can put them together
but it's never as easy as if they were to just fall into place

And things can fall apart so easily
but once they have done so
it's almost impossible to put them back together
The pieces never seem to fit right
and you're reading a manual that some other person wrote
that says they know what they're talking about
but they never really do.

Things fall apart
They will never fall together
You can break them apart
You can take them apart
but don't expect the pieces to ever fit again.

I don't necessarily believe that opposites attract.

but they should.

That way all the things you like and love

don't get tainted when things go wrong.

What's that mess on the floor?


It's the ink from my pen


Well what did you spill it for?


I didn't. You did.


No I didn't.


If you hadn't spilled the ink from my heart, I wouldn't have held the pen in the first place, and nothing would have fallen apart.

I see all kinds of lovers:

The young and the happy

The old and the cold

Ones that don't quite match up

Ones that live to love perfectly

Ones that live to not be lonely

Ones with nothing better to do

Ones with nothing but time

And then some with no time at all

And they all look picturesque and pretty on the outside;

but I can't help feeling sorry for them all.

Then I look away and feel sorry for myself.

Sometimes things fit and sometimes they don't
I spend my life trying to put pieces together
and when they don't fit
I just tape them and glue them
and they look a mess, but they hold for now
and that's going to have to be good enough

Sometimes things fit and sometimes they don't
and this time they fit
perfectly.

I guess I like it better when they don't.

I can gather up all of the first place ribbons I have
and knit a pair of socks to keep my feet warm
and although that pair would be scratchy
I would wear holes in them anyway
and my toes would peek out and say hello to winter

But who am I kidding?
I would probably end up cutting one of the ribbons as I knit
and the whole thing would unravel anyway.

So what's the point of winning first place at all?

Dear Sir,

I'm really sorry. For everything. I'm sorry for not talking to you anymore. That was really immature of me. I'm sorry for not taking your dreams into account, and for being selfish. I'm sorry for making everything about this non-existant relationship all about me and not about you. But then again... it's always about you. Everything. It always has been since the day we met and I turned you down and played foolish hard-to-get. But I wasn't playing. I just really am not easy to get. If you should feel proud of anything, it should be the fact that you had me. And I was always yours to grab, in any sense of the word. I'm just really sorry that you had to be the one to get me. I'm sure it was easy, because I'm not easy.

I'm sorry. For everything,
Love Ma'am

Dear Ma'am,

You shouldn't be sorry. Nothing was your fault. If anybody should be sorry, it should be me. I'm sorry for leaving. And I'm sorry that I did that to you. When you say you're hard-to-get, you really aren't kidding. I had to ******* bear my soul just to get you to look me in the eyes. I never regret being the one for you. In fact, I don't ever regret anything I do, because it's a waste of time. But if I was to ever regret anything, it would be making you feel sad all the time. I'm a selfish human being and I know that, but that doesn't mean that you weren't important to me. I would never want to ruin our friendship. I just didn't have a choice. Sorry.

-Sir

Dear Sir,

I feel really bad and stupid when I say that, because it reminds me of that cheesy movie, "Dear John", and you are the farthest thing from cheesy, and I feel like our life and our story means so much more than that. I don't really have anything else to say to you. I just know that I don't want us to not be friends anymore, because you are my best friend. But I also can't talk to you without thinking about you in ways I shouldn't. When I think about you in those ways it just makes me really sad and I know that I won't be able to move on if I think about you in those ways. I don't want to die alone. But without you I'm so alone. I don't know what to do.

Love Ma'am

Ma'am,

Tell me what to do and I'll do it.

-Sir

I do things in the dark
that nobody would suspect

I do things in the dark
and I speak in a different dialect

I do things in the dark
that I get embarrassed of when it's light outside

I do things in the dark
that I really shouldn't be afraid to hide

What I do in the dark
people normally aren't ashamed of

I only wait until it's dark
because I'm shy and don't know how to play the game

I wait until it's dark
because I'm scared of how things look in the light

I wait until it's dark
because I only know how do things at night

I wait until it's dark
because then I know it's safe to be myself

I wait until it's dark
because I can rearrange the perfect rows on my shelf

I do things when it's dark
that aren't even bad or weird or evil

I only do them when it's dark
because I'm scared and weak, and love is lethal

I only want love when it's dark
because it's when I notice that nobody's around

I only want people around when it's dark
because it's then that I start hearing the friendly and forbidden sounds

I only hear these sounds when it's dark
because my heart screams loudest when it's alone

I only listen to my heart when it's dark
because during the day it's deafened by everyone's moans and groans

I hear everything differently when it's dark
because moans don't sound dreary, they sound steamy and hot

I decipher the sounds when it's dark
because everything is never as it seems; it's just not

And I feel the most alone when it's dark
because at night I realize I'm sleeping alone and that's how it's always going to be

I'm lonely when it's dark
because it's when I realize that I've trapped myself and I'm never going to set myself free

and I do things when it's dark
I think and I scream without making any noise

I do things when it's dark
I wink at all the boys

Where did you go?

Come back.


I need to look at you some more.



I need to meet you.




Come back into my life.






Oh wait...







You were never in it to begin with.

There are always those corners
You know?
Where things get stuck.
They stop circling around
infinitely.
Things get stuck in the corners
And they will be trapped there forever.

Memories get stuck in the corners of my mind
and no matter how many experiences circle around
infinitely,
Those memories will always stay trapped.

Sometimes I like to talk to myself
I mimic people that don't exist
I have conversations with them in my head
That lead to scenarios
We go on adventures together

I mimic all sorts of people
I have conversations with them in my head
Soon enough I start talking out loud
and I don't know who is real and who is in my head

Soon enough I start to mimic myself
and I don't know if I'm real or if I'm in my head
I start to think that maybe I'm just an impersonation
that maybe I'm not real
Or maybe I'm just acting all the time.

I am a firm believer that love potions would make the world go round

Nobody would be broken by love
and all spoken love would be words forced down someone's throat
and everyone would be allowed a token of love
and once the token was spent it wouldn't be refunded
and when one would like to make an exchange,
        rather than being forced into solitude, they would just drink more of that forbidden poison
and forced words would be acceptable
and no one would have more tokens of love than others
and no one would be broken
and every word that be spoken
        would be product of a token
and everyone would have a flask of love
and everybody would be drunk and happy

It's a song to end the night with...
It's a song to end the fight with...
It's a song to end a life with...
It's a song to start a flight with.

I only like you because you're my best friend.
If I didn't like you so much,
I'd hate your guts
because everything about you is so unlikeable

but you're my best friend,
so I kind of like you a lot.

I'm sure if I saw my eyes on someone else
I would think they are beautiful.
But on myself
I don't notice them at all.

Most people make love,

But I'll always know

I was only made by love

to break love.

Beautiful eyes were wasted on you
because you use them for all of the wrong reasons

You don't use them to see
You only use them to ******

Your eyes **** lovers
But somehow their beauty is never reduced

I've talked about things before that people consider to be dark

I've never thought of them that way
I guess I would consider them gray
before any other color though
but when I think about beautiful hues, I remember heather
and when I see clouds in the sky
and I scrunch up my face real small while the rain flies
I think it's beautiful weather.

So while everybody puts on their protection:
raincoats and galoshes
umbrellas that sheild washes

I'll put on a cardigan and get covered in shivers
and I'll lay in the middle of the road
and pretend I'm floating in rivers

Goosebumps will be my second layer
They'll make my skin thicker
and the rain will wash the tears off of my face
and nobody will be able to tell that I was crying in the first place
and I'll laugh all boisterously
and hardiness will fill my diaphragm
and I'll scream for no reason at all

I'll scream that I would rather love that I hate how I am
than to hate that I love how I am

I will look at everyone around me
staring at me
arms folded and crunched
hidden under their plastic cape
afraid of being cold
okay with being weak
and reliant on umbrellas for protection;
shadowing faces that are disgruntled and meek

I'll realize they have no idea
how it feels to grow thick skin of goose pimples
and to have agony washed away
and to float in rivers in the road
and to be the only thing in a world of complexity
that is lowly and simple

They probably think that they know how it feels to laugh
because they do it at parties and gatherings
But those are only chuckles
Because they never release their knuckles
They're always clenching them in restraint or force

Everybody should laugh in the rain
and not be afraid of tears in the eyes of the sun
because they'll only get washed away
nobody will know
I promise.

I'll often stand and stare
and just look at the road in front of me
feet cemented into the pavement
with those yellow lines that separate lanes
painted over my ankles
like track marks

One of these days
I'm going to have to get a chisel
and start digging my feet out of the ground
Although there will still probably be
those ugly yellow track marks
at least I'll be free
to walk the path ahead of me

I'll be able to finally cross the bridge
that I've been staring at for so long

Maybe one day I'll be able to cross it
without the fear of it collapsing

Until then I'll just run really fast

I'll try to get over it.

I find it kind of funny
          that everybody thinks I am happy all the time

And it's really kind of funny
          that I find myself happiest when I'm feeling deep about life and events and people
          and that the only way I know how to feel deep about these things
          is through sadness

And I find it really funny
         That everybody thinks of happiness as something so simple
         ' I like this a lot. It makes me happy.'
                    If it's all so simple... then why am I still only happy when I'm crying?

And it's a little funny
          That I love to write about things. It makes me happy.
          But everytime I write a word, everything goes dark, and nobody can really see what I mean.
          and happiness is so simple, but all of my thoughts are so complicated.

And I find it kind of funny
         That the only reason I sat down to write this poem
         Was because it makes me happy, and I'm always looking for ways to be happy.
          But this poem about happiness... is my least favorite thing I have written.

And it really is funny
         That I have realized
          ...
         That I'm only happy when I'm sad.

I like this time of night;
It feels like it's so late,
but at the same time...
the morning is a year away.

Your voice
is as if the pebbles in your mouth
are exploding with a citrus ocean,
Colliding with rocks
but falling through to nothing but
a lullaby about wishing upon stars.

and I like when it
sounds like you're crying
but it doesn't want anyone to know

I always thought we sang alike.

Come on light
Dance for me
to the sounds of Clair de Lune
I like the flicker of the ice
But you only stay lit;
Stay still;
Don't go;
Stay dancing
But don't tango
and I'm panicky because
it's as if the world would end
if you turned off
and Debussy closed.