The trepidation was evident by the gleam over her eyes. Fallen books in an empty library don't tell secrets. Open the page to find a broken story of success under a starlit world. Hiccups only trouble the weary. Chase a dream of band wagon dreamers told of constant maintenance. Figure out the cost of being lost to find the difference in pure pleasure. A difference of angles and trajectory. The degree is far greater than the temperature of sadness allotted by your heart. Filling up on diesel for an electrical Heart box. Logical algorithms are not needed for oblivion . Simply factor in the tangible feelings of reality. This will guide the principle notion of being afraid. Divide that by unknown to the forget real power. After all the figuring, planning, and  orbiting, I shall place this here for the return of who knows. Because math is no way to solve a hitch in the mainframe.

My heart screams out.
You've been cutting it ever since you smashed your love to pieces while it was still intertwined with my own.
I'm drowning in lost love.
I'm aching for you but you just keep kicking me in the ribs.
I love you.
I hate you.
I hate how I love you.

lips so dry your crunchy words become combustible. my heart is made of fuel and my head gets heavy when i inhale the clouds in your beloved mind. bruised skin absorbs lies and that is why you never tell me that i look pretty covered in green. the edge of her smile cuts chasms deep enough to drown in when she cries out hidden onyx, but you still let her sleep on your side of the bed while i am gone. you beg me to leave, but no god can ever kiss my thoughts beautiful enough to love the man you have chosen to be. your heart ***** her poison like a love-sponge and i do not even care if you burn up in her veins. heaven is only an opportunity if you choose to be with boys with red velvet tongues and songs about forever

*(k.w)

it doesn't seem that i can get high enough
                                                                          or low
to find a reason for b r e a k i n g this cycle
                                                        cycle          cycle
                                                                  cycle
of trying to become drinking buddies with my demons
or unconscious of the fact that i'm slowly letting my passions
                                               die.
i'm empty
on the ins
ide but at
least i loo
k ok.

I have been at war.
I'm sorry I've never written you.
The weapons we use are our minds.
Our survival, it's our destruction.
The only gun driven into our skull is the one we hold.
I have battle scars and healing wounds, they were left by nobody other than myself.
Someone drowned last night, he was thinking too much.
We learnt how to make nooses and how to use them.

I cannot make you feel beautiful.
Perhaps if you could for one brief moment,
With one softly drawn breath,
See yourself through me,
And behold the magic you carry within you,
As your friends,
Your family,
And the many strangers who pass you each day do,
Perhaps in that moment,
You would change your perception of yourself for an eternity,
For yours is a beauty that touches everyone,
Except you,
But perhaps through me you could come to know yourself.