I am so tired of loud things;
Cars, bikes, wind, rain,
silence.
The loudest of them all
Is the deafening scream
Of someone too scared
To talk.

There is one who is sunlit
  Potent as the jade-green sea
    Inhaling blissfull birdsong
     Exhaling ancient threnodies        
      Years of headlights, rainsoaked
       Highways: miles under desert
        Sun. copper-skinned she's spells 
          To sing with lips love letter soft
           She writes cataclysmic sonnets
           Without using words.
            Unabridged Resolute
             Her asthetic purely Lunar
             He tries to match her
             Inhale to inhale
            Exhale to exhale
           But he is a corpse
          Buried in black soil
        Roots to wrap and swallow him
      Crushing the soul from his bones
     Cursed then to wander mountains
   And watch her rest weary legs as she
  Drinks deeply from Aquarius

i don't know. i feel crazy sometimes, more than others. i see people, and i see what i wish i could be; fine. everyone has **** going on, but when my friend told me she was stressed and i asked why, she replied "i don't know what to wear tomorrow." if she asked me what i was stressed about, it'd be "i don't know how to stop hating myself."