When you speak my silent desires when you read my mind
I don't feel the slightest wonder seek the mystery behind
for I know it's made that way preordained and sweet
you can read the one you love when you love by habit.

The only way in which this love story is unrequited
Is that he loves her, but she hates herself

i had a dream we were holding hands in a blockbuster video store.

everything was made of wood.

i had a dream we drove across country
and stopped at a bridge to stare at the sky.

your hair was brown. your hair was draped over the passenger seat.

you held my hand again like you meant it.

i was a window for your fingers.

i was something else while you pointed at an airplane
and stretched your body to it.

you thought you’d never get so far.

i hung out in a mall parking lot while you became the stars.

when i woke up the longing still wasn’t gone.

It isn't music, really
not really
not the kind that you can
dance to
or sing words to
or hum along to

but maybe tap your foot
a bit to
or rock your shoulders
a little bit to
and sway your head
a little nod or two

It's more like rustling leaves
from pianissimo
to crescendo
above the tapping
drips of rain
in puddles circling
round the dangling feet
of waterspouts

and the trilling ring
a brassy bell delivers
swinging from the strike
of an opened door  
as dampened shoes
skip shuffle and slide
inside the musty lair
of an old bookstore

all measured by
the syncopated
clapping beat
of hooves
on cobblestone
in time with
carriage wheels
and drumbeat hoods
of rocking cabriolets

He paints from sound
that whistles in the wind
and freefalls from the sky
that bounces in the streets
and whispers to his eyes
that nestles in his pallet
and mixes in his dyes

It isn't music, really
not really
not the kind that you can
dance to
or sing words to
or hum along to

but maybe tap your foot
a bit to
or rock your shoulders
a little bit to
and sway your head
a little nod or two

when you see his aria
composed by strokes
from brushes
dipped in sound

sometimes i worry because i am nothing
i am nothing at all
agender and aromantic and asexual and sometimes i feel almost ahuman
but then i remember that some of the most beautiful things are nothing
the space and the night and what i like to hear is in the bad part of your mind
sometimes you dont have to be anything at all

The thought of you makes me sick
Sicker than I've ever felt
When I think of the countless lies you told me
For months on end
When I think of how you said you loved me
Only to pull the rug right out from under me
And tell me it was all a lie
That you could never love the real me
It makes me want to *****
When I see your face
I get the urge to purge
Purge every memory of you out of my system
What you did to me will haunt you forever
You'll never forget me because I was your greatest lover
No one will treat you like I did
No one will love you like I did
You're a pathetic excuse for a human being
I knew you were troubled
But never to this extent
So troubled that you use everyone in your path
In the most extreme ways
I am the victim
And I always will be
And you will remain a nothing forever
I am sick because of you
But like any sickness
It will go away
And I cannot wait
For that day