am i too big for my own skin? or do i just make myself out as something i am not?
sometimes i see things from the outside and i can see me hiding in myself because i want to pretend i am something great.
it feels like lies, but never have i wanted more than lies to be truth. i want to believe that what you see is what i am.
but can that be?
i want to be what you see. but can that be?

heavy heart,
swollen lungs,
lifeless limbs;
my pulse has sung
"oh bury me
in red
in black
bury me
amongst trees
and rats"
and is still
singing:
"heaven's tide
sweep me in,
caress me in
soft baby skin"
lifeless limbs
pulse still,
pulse stopped.
oh happy to be
amongst treetops.
happy to be
sailing free,
soaring high;
above clouds
above blue skies.

happy to be happy.

*"oh bury me
in clouds,
or at sea
reborn into
the world
happy."

dare i wonder what you think of me
for i do not know what i think of myself.
maybe there's a difference between how you see yourself and how you let others see you.
     am i a plague or a remedy
     am i stone cold or burning flames
     am i chilled to the bone or am i a home
sometimes home can be a person, but i am no home.
my hands are cold, they will burn you with
frost. i am kind but i am afraid.
my chest hurts with the thought of you.
not because i wish to have you but because
                            i don't.
maybe i do, but i am an ocean and you are lost in me. i can see the moon.
     do i flee from what i have only to retreat to what i am?
i ask of you, are you something new or the
                             thing that i can't find.
i have a treasure that i wish to keep and
                              not soil.
you are a treasure of your own.
yet i am not worthy.

i can have obsidian or i can have gold.
Man has always been greedy but i am
                      Humble.
     am i kind?
am i kind to take a cherry with
     cyanide pit?
you believe me a diamond, but i am only coal.
you, my dear, have a heart made of gold.

is it possible,
to dream and lay awake?
i know who i think of,
but yet the name i cannot
place.

i see the lights
you lay in your wake.
paint me a shadow
that i may dance with
late into the
night.

your arms are
the only haven i call home
but what is home without
you here? it is not a place
i can see.

walk, bruised and broken
through these battered
bones of this house, still i
walk lightly, careful not to
wake these beasts that
haunt me.

and you are
the dancing figure walking
along the bones in my chest.
these are not the careful wings
of butterflies i called my
friends.

instead it is you.
and i know your intentions
this time.