I wear my scars with pride.
Except when I don’t.
In those moments,
I am my tattoos and my reason
And the false dichotomy of my being.

The pain of those past events.
Erased.
Or at least hidden from you.
Because you don’t know me.
And I don’t know enough about you to know if you’re safe.

But once we get rolling
My pride,
My ******* pride
Has me spilling my life all over this conversation.
Look at my scars!
I made it through.
Aren’t you impressed?

But as a young Stephen Crane would have said,
“Ah, I think there were braver deeds.”

You are a half remembered dream,
Déjà vu on a movie screen,
Your smell evoking memories
Of places I have never seen.

Striding through life
Yet tainted by sin
I collect the broken and give hope again.

Give me your heartbreak
Your personal cross
My shoulders are broad, yet surprisingly soft.

I'll give you me
A healer by nature
You're not a slave for life to indenture.

Past filled with strife
I painted my skin
Now let down your guard so I can get in.

Your skin so warm against mine,
Your smell lingering in my pores,
I can feel your heartbeat,
And I feel home.

I buried my heart out in a field,
Beneath an old oak tree.
I'll stop and visit it once in a while,
And tell it stories of me.
The life I live and places I've been,
All the best places to see.
The men and women who make up my life,
Who know a story or three.

I buried my heart out in a field,
Six feet beneath cold clay.
Deep enough to protect it from you,
Shallow enough to retrieve it one day.
To dig it up and check it for wear,
Protecting it from decay.
My poor heart is never safe,
With you never that far away.

I buried my heart out in a field,
Far from prying eyes.
Hiding the scars from my own sight,
Wrapping it up in lies.
I want to pretend that everything's fine;
That the pain's been cut down to size.
But that's not true, it's right near the surface,
As my one and only tear dries.

I buried my heart out in a field,
I did it for selfish reasons.
To shield it from this treacherous life,
And all its mercurial seasons.
The lies, the scars, the six feet of dirt,
Just a few more little treasons.
I buried my heart out in a field,
And I forgot to mark the spot

In the dark of this room,
As time idles by,
Images of your face come unbidden
To the backs of my eyelids.

Restless,
I mentally pace the ceiling,
Counting each little popcorn dot,
There are 22,167 dots, by the way.

And still your face,
The lips I've kissed a thousand times,
The trusting, guileless eyes,
And I'm floored.

You always get me with the eyes.
They reach inside me
And seek out the deepest place
To take hold.

As sleep finally catches up
To the lightning in my mind,
I drift off to peace
Until morning.

Hair clenched in a tightly closed fist
Your neck exposed to my eager lips
Face pressed into freshly washed sheets
I can feel your pulse beneath my teeth

Hand throbbing from the smack I delivered
Bare skin set instantly aquiver
I push deeper to feel your fire
You taste of *** and liquid desire

Manual stimulation for my electrified mind,
Proper ventilation cools down my insides.
To call it ******* would deny its true nature,
You can't rub it out if it's only on paper.

An island.
Sometimes.
That's me.
An island.
Surrounded by the bitter thoughts and openly hostile fears of those that don't
Understand.

So when I tell you,
"This is me."
I'm not asking for:
Permission
Judgment
Scorn
Doubt
or
Rage
I'm asking for:
Patience
Concern
Love
Friendship
And a familiar ear to voice my own fear.

Kermit the Frog once said,
"It's not easy being green."
Well Kermit, I finally think I know what you mean.

Uncommon is not as welcome as it would seem.

I can’t stand you.
I just want to
Reprimand you.
I just want to
******* brand you.

You must hate me.
You just want to
Denigrate me.
I want you to
Masticate me.

Like my blood, you're coursing through my veins.
With every beat, you move through my vitals,
Heart, brain, lungs, skin...

Each beat delivers more of my secrets to you.
My hopes, fears, proudest moments, all mingling in the conversation you have with my body.
I say it that way because I don't have a choice.

You've become part of me. Am I as much a part of you?

A picture was promised,
Yet stands undelivered,
My heart isn't broken,
But my body's aquiver.

Please send something soon,
I look forward to see,
A picture of you,
Taken solely for me.

(Preferably naked)

I am the rocky shoal, on which the storm breaks its waves,
I am the anvil, on which life takes its shape,
I am the general, preparing to invade,
I am the one who embraces his fate.

Ask not of me to sit idle and patient,
I don’t deal in time and common complacence,
I need the struggle to showcase my worth,
My shoulders are broad but my attitude terse.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a monster,
I’m just forged to be something much harder,
I’ll open my heart and share my dark secrets,
But please don’t mistake my kindness for weakness.

The smile that lingers on your lips,
The back and forth sway of your hips,
Your skin beneath my fingertips.

Promises of sleepless nights,
Melodies and dimming lights,
I've got you within my sights.

Tomorrow brings another day,
All I want is for you to stay,
For one more hour is all I pray.

Our paths run parallel but never touch,
Sharing thoughts and skin and such,
I only hope it's not too much.

As the sun rises
Unbidden thoughts of you appear.
Swept up in the revelry
I forget that you aren't real.

I mean,
You're real enough.
You're made of organic matter.
You have a heartbeat and consciousness.
But you're still not really real.

You're an idea,
Or an ideal, as it were.
You're the best and worst of me.
And I love and hate you for it.
You complete and destroy me.

So when those unbidden thoughts
Rise with the morning sun,
I can feel my atoms separating
My very bond with the universe weakening,
And in a moment, if I don't reign in my mind,

I'll
Be
Gone.

Under my skin, you've been.
Driving me crazy with thoughts of hot nights.
Sweating, wordless moments.
A giggle and a moan.
Fingertips sliding gracefully down the length of your spine.
Your breath on my face, fast and throaty.
These thoughts invading my day.
Forcing me to seek refuge in work.
My body a slave to my overactive imagination.
It's your fault, really.

Is it the purpose of your love
To make me feel more,
Or less?

Sometimes the lines blur
And I can't tell the difference,
Not that it matters.

I'm okay being on my own
Emotionally and physically,
But am I?

Why is it that I can't stop thinking about you
When you're not with me,
Except when I sleep?

A break in time
Induces perspective
The necessary focal agent.

You toe the line
Taking no directive
Your state of mind is clearly nascent.

Running to the sound of my beating heart,
My footfalls muffled by heavy breathing,
I taste your scent on the air.