This could be brilliant,
but the static electricity is eating me,
the cause to the storm is unknown,
and there's poison leaking from your veins,

A story so raw,
Behind the green eyes that gave this world a name,
So bare, so open,

It's breathtaking--

                                        --In the literal sense of the form.

This writing spills like word *****,

The peircing cold is lonely;
but the burning bridges sting,

And it's all we've ever known,
to ****, to hurt, to succeed,
...and to love.

But to run?
My feet can only take me so fast,
and I've learned to give up that past.

The vast unknown I only call home,
The mixed signals and mixed drinks have brought me here,
And I can't shake this feeling,

I am a paradox myself
And no one can know the whole of me.

This anticdote of fables,
My treasure chest filled with lies,
My heart is the bare, lonely story,

**And only the pen can console me.