parachutes are my tender
words landing
landing
softly on
your
bright sight

snow crystals
widespread on
icy mountains
you're dear
to look at

even the wind sighs
when you drift over
the ridge

landing, melting
my heart
into the bluest
ocean

Typically the savior gets attached
To the one who's falling that they catch
But this is a clear role reversal
Guess I missed too many play rehearsals
I suppose I was your Persephone
Hibernating winters on my knees
Soon your Zeus-like ego began to show
With all the focus on your lightning bolt
I was there through all eleven seasons
Throwing away caution, rhyme and reason
Now you say our future is yours only
Dividing a union that was holy
But I refuse to coil 'round your finger
Under thumb or stone I will not linger
Though I'm in between Satan and the sea
You will find you have no power o'er me

I like simple things.
Walking
Breathing
Talking
I don't like simple things that turn into compex things.
Sprinting
Hyperventilating
Arguing
I have a hard time focusing on simplicity when it all changes into complexity without warning.

in this cube
of angular anger
there's a town
made of clouds.
sour wind
sounds like bed sheets,
& indigo solar radiation.
don't explain:
our eyes are the same,
but the depressants seem to be
gooeyer in
your world.
find a way
to create a rubber
convenience store.
(to buy squishy cigarettes)
build glass palaces
so the world can
see you strip down.
your world.

and you'd like that.

Thats all you are,
From your hair to your hips
It makes me want to do flips

These demons make me not care
These demons make me...
want to tear your clothes apart
Something about your smile
Something about your legs
Its like your stacking pegs
Getting no where
because caring is something
that isn't their


I love the way you look at me when were done
I love the way your body looks when your on top
I love the way you look
I love the way
I love the
I love
No!
I lust

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight,—
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,—
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.