I was born with the softest skin
Shoot daggers from your eyes
And I will bleed to death

Soak in holy water's bath until my skin is wrinkled
Scrub at my skin until I am raw
I am unclean but dirt is nowhere to be found

your eyes
held the universe
and I traveled
into space
falling
deeper and
d e e p e r
into your
ultramarine - cosmos
only to realize
I was just
a speck of dust
in
your eyes

your love
slowly became filtered,
turning the rawest
of honey
to the most
artificial of syrups,
burning my throat as I swallow

                                                                               -why do I keep drinking?

unwavering love;
your wavering voice
c a u g h t
in the eye of my storm

                                 (oh how I hope my torrents don't sweep you away)

She settles in your heart
like paint
in the fine lines of
your shirt
never fully-able
to wash her out

                  

                    (the stains: a comforting reminder of what was once there)

Grievance --
a rotten way to be wounded.
all bandaged up, but still hurting.
cry.

To hell with people -- I say I'm a
Rotten Painter
all alone
no more whispered words to color the still-empty canvas


Don't be sentimental
You made me ill
I felt like hell

But Hell is warm and the
flames are comforting

My dear, love has no reason
For the bees still make honey
and birds sing of cheer

The earth gives and grows just for you,
So look around and be thankful, dear

Well, well, well
Something that you don't wish to obtain:
wellness.

Whether it be hunching over the toilet,
evacuating today's third feast of the day,
or continuing to hear whispered words from made-up beings,
not taking the cocktails to silence them
or maybe, just continuing to stay empty,
not letting anything fill the void

Staying sick --
Whether it be of the body,
mind,
or soul,
will not make others love you more,
and it will not make others stay
but it will have them fade away
just
like
you

flesh without skin
cracked and raw
but no blood to be found

eyes with no lids
frozen and unblinking
but no tears to fall

innocence is stripped down to the bone
for everyone to pick at
everyone to play with
until blood falls and eyes are wet
until it is no more.

I'm waiting for your sweet words to drip out of your mouth like honey. I **** them up, filling my insides, hoping for more; the sweetness being the only nourishment for my empty soul. My body, a hollow corpse needing to be made whole by you.

Nourish me.
Help me grow.

You spin my flaws into gold and make my compulsions into beautiful quilts -- each pattern complicated and strange

Seamstress, why do you spin even my most troublesome features into exquisite works?

For even my lies are crafted into lace.

You!
You are putting on a fur coat while watching your building burn down around you
Around your sweating body walls collapse in flame but you still won't jump out to be saved!

I'm here!
Waiting at the window with a trampoline
Waiting for you to get out of the scene
But I see you just look into the same horizon and stare

I guess you like the view from your window,
but soon you will burn down with it