I'm not here as your guest,
Because guests never plan on staying too long.

I'm not here as your guide,
Because it is rare for a guide to ever be wrong.

I'm not here as just a friend,
Because friends often fail to stay strong.

But instead,
I'm here as your lover.

Because although I'll often be wrong,
I promise to always stay strong.

And I plan on staying very long.

the pendulum princess taps her pen on the desk
as the dogs whimper in their sleep
and the trees wrap themselves in the witching-hour starlight

the silence suddenly seems so frantic

i swear
i can hear my skin shrinking

the wind slithers over the roof
whispering through the moon beams
in hopes of finding someone to snuggle up with

at least i'm not the only one who's sick of sleeping alone

my body no longer feels like home
my bones creak like splintering floorboards under stubbed toes
my head's busy running in circles of constant contemplation
     am i awake
             or am i dreaming?
        was that a sigh
                or am i screaming?

buzzing like a firefly
trapped between a ***** countertop and a frosted beer mug

three weeks of bed rest
(and counting)
and all that's grown stronger
is my understanding of exhaustion

His finger tips
and more
demagnetize me.
Now, I don't work anymore.

I
care
too much
that I cry over
people &
their problems
instead of my
own.

Plug in your headphones and listen
to the ******* world breathing
because it is
and you've got to realize it sometime
and I truly hope you do
because life's more than our ears can see

I used to be an introvert
but now I'm not I guess.
At least I kept my thoughts.

Harp strings.
Heart stings.
Start things.
He sings.
Phone rings.
Rungs
on a ladder leading up,
Up,
Up, and away.
Say,
Why the ****
am I not enough?
No, just terrible, terrible luck.

This pencil sounds
like sputtering,
a car engine failing.
It smells like
the sheets you just left.
It feels weighted,
heavy like a lead blade
that I can hardly hold up.
It tastes bittersweet,
like the tail-end of smoke:
as musky and infectious
as your kiss.
This pencil looks
at me sparkling with dew,
"did you lose interest in me
like the boys lose interest in you?"

I line up
all the things
I like about you.
I space them evenly
Precisely
Accurately
I shoot them
with a harpoon,
A gun,
A sling shot.
Then I smash them.
I burn them.
I bury them.
They beckon me
to go about collecting
them once more.