Would you think less of me if I told you how much I want to kiss your thighs?
And your hip bones
And that v of skin
Feel the heat of your body that I can’t turn off
Even in the depths of winter,
Your warmth is in every cheek to cheek hug
Every brush of your hand over mine
We could be in the icy temperatures of the north pole and I would still feel a hotness in your fingertips when you pass me another layer
I’m a good girl
But looking at you makes me feel like I deserve a thousand detentions
I hope you know I love you when I think about your skin tight against mine
Your mouth hot on mine
My hands untucking your checked shirt
I refuse to call these thoughts *****
Because your body is so **** beautiful
The muddy soil around a bright flower doesn’t devalue its worth, does it?
I hope you know I think your heart is as powerful as the sun
You’re what burns every piece of wooden structure that holds my body stable
Human jenga
And even though you have no game plan,
You always win.

Lately I have been thinking about reasons to live, not because I am suicidal or I am ready to die, at least not now. I have been thinking about reasons to live because I have started to take the path of least resistance. I am no longer living I am merely alive, I wake up, survive, wake up, survive, wake up, survive. I wake up and I survive, and that’s it. So I made a list, of reason to stay alive.


1. Laying in the grass in the middle of summer

2. Dancing in the rain

3. Learning stupid, pointless skills

4. You never know, My Chemical Romance could come back

5. Going for long walks alone

6. Concerts

7. Mosh pits

8. Pulling all nighters that you regret the next day

9. Laying in the grass watching the clouds

10. Driving aimlessly in the country

11. Road trips

12. Spending time with your best friend

13.Sleeping until noon

14. There is someone, even if it is one person, who cares

13, wait 14, no 15, that’s right

15, you are probably better at counting than I am...

Finally, you should stay alive just for the reason of living life to the fullest. Stay living to prove those who said you can’t wrong, stay alive to see every state every country, stay alive to prove to yourself that you are stronger than the **** that is happening around you, stay alive if not for your self stay alive for you family your friends, hell, stay alive for your dog because life is meant for living...

This is a conversation I had with God.
In which I told the silence of my room
that surrealism is the only ism in which God makes total sense.

I could see the chalk whites of his teeth trying to bite down on his words
but before they could be derailed his tongue caught wind and his words assailed
as he said, "I hate surrealism."

As if his words would never be caught dead in an urn
sometimes his mouth looked more like a jail in an Old Western
and his thoughts fought like criminals desperate to break out
until they finally found a way to use his tongue as an escape route.

"No, I don't hate surrealism," he says
"I just hate surrealism as a movement."

Upon hearing this my spine coils like a wine-corker-spiral-staircase
upward; where my brain plugs my cranium like a cork
and my eyes drip like blank canvas,
I am one hollow statue decaying in a melting structure
with wax in my ears I feed landscapes to winged insects
as I drown in pools of water/color.

Behind me is a sky so burlesque it actually looks like the clouds are crying.
Under me is a ground so vast it has nine horizons wrapped in a double helix.
Reconstructed beside me is a tree so old it could be the same wood as The Crucifix.
Nested inside me where my spine should be is a coat rack made crooked by the weight of all-nighters.
The texture of my skin makes it look like god paints with typewriters.

"No, no," he says, his voice turning melancholy, atomic, uranic, idyll,
"I don't hate surrealism as a movement,
because hate's such a strong word. Oh god, I guess I just don't get it."

Now I'm overcome with a sincere desire to light an entire herd of giraffes on fire
and sip wine beneath the light as if it were dinner by candlelight,

"Seriously?" I say. "Under giraffes, in this light
I can't tell if you're Lincoln or Jesus.
In fact, we all look like swans with elephant reflections.
Your trunk is a trumpet.
Don't even get me started on where we derive our visions of god
from where I stand everything casts a shadow in the shape of where it's heading
and the sky, vast and pale and open, the sky is the only all-seer
and the truth is far less surreal:
if your demons are ants then your god is an anteater."

I can see the chalk whites of his teeth stall door,
squeaky hinge, his mouth-
occupied with a realization he can't pronounce.
A pause as pregnant as a desert landscape,
ornamented with butterflies.

His head is an empty room with an evaporating skylight,
his ears, hang like clocks on a half-wall, melting.
The escalator to his brain is a spiral staircase moving in reverse.
His eyelids peel back like the last page of a two-dimensional book.
I can see with my Spellbound eyes, we are finally on the same page.

When his tongue curls back into his saloon jaw
like a bee sting rifle shot back into the mouth of a lunging tiger,
swallowed deep into the wells of a fish belly.

"I'm sorry" he says, "that's not what I meant."

if you
are


happy


and you
know
it


clamp your hams

It’s chocolate chip pancakes at 2:30am
And empty mugs of coffee on my desk

It’s adrenaline pumping through my chest
And the whir of my refrigerator

My focus is ping ponging between
All of the holes in the wall
Ignoring everything but
the pages in front of me

Watching everything through
A double pained glass
Realizing control is an illusion

I fight to get closer and closer to the audience
In my head
Exaggeration stretching onward like salt-water taffy
In the window

Fingers slipping, sweat beading
heavily above my upper lip
Not being 100% sure of anything
Who can blame me?
I am lost in the swivels of society

My face, as a ballerinas, when on pointe
An elegant mask full of nothing
Spinning and spinning
Relying on the inner soles of my feet

The clock slowly and forever slipping
As I cannot reach the top of the bunny hole
Too ******* stubborn to let any of the voices
In my head tell me I should crawl away

So, I look down and begin to read.

The friendship we had is something i wish i had cherish from the start
I never knew the impact you made on my life until the day you left
You were there with me for everything
We would pull all nighters until 5 am
And play PC games and sleep over skype
You mend my soul when i was hurting
And i was able to cope countless heartbreaks because of you
You made me feel wanted, loved and happy
I wish you didn't let me go
I wish i could prevent what i did that made you not want me in your life anymore
As much as i want you in my life again
As much as i want to talk to you again so i don't have to think about you all the time
I know that you're happy without me
And i wouldn't want anyone or anything interfering with your happiness
You deserve the best for after all you have done for me
And I will never forget you for that

i bet you never had
someone hit you
so hard
like a wave.

i bet you never
thought the day
would come
where someone
would be so eager
to stay.

well i can’t make
any promises,
and you can’t expect
to do the same either,
but when i look at you,
something speaks truth,
and i just gotta
tell you.

i wanna know you.
i wanna know what gets you
going like you do.
i wanna know you.
why do you do the things you
do?

on friday night,
do you like to watch horror movies?
or are you the type,
to hang with your groupies
and smoke a doobie outside?

well, i’d choose neither.
and i **** at pulling
all-nighters,
but this little song
is not about me.

hey there,
hey you,
when i look at you,
something speaks the truth,
and i just gotta tell you.

i wanna know you.
i wanna know what gets you
going like you do.
i wanna know you.
why do you do the things you
do?

they say if you ever lose
your sense of spark,
then something isn’t right.

and i can’t promise
to always be your sunshine,
but i’ll try and i’ll try
to always be the light.

if you’re in a room,
and you feel the gloom,
and nothing feels like
it’s going right,
look at me,
and you’ll see
somebody who likes

the way that you are,
the way that you do,
oh, you, hey you,
i’m digging you.

cause when i look at you,
something speaks truth,
and i just gotta
tell you.

i wanna know you.
i wanna know what gets you
going like you do.
i wanna know you.
why do you do the things you
do?

i bet you never had
someone hit you
so hard
like a wave.

i bet you never
thought the day
would come
where someone
would be so eager
to stay.

i wanna know everything.
because you’ve got that something,
that i can’t explain.

Sleep beguiling,
calling, reaching,
Wondrous imaginings therein reside;
Cobwebs stretching, fingers petting
If only I could have that precious sleep denied.

Where would it take me,
race me, free me?
Glorious if there within I could abide;
caverns hidden, breakers ridden
If only I could have that precious sleep denied.

What would I find there,
be there, do there?
Magnificent adventures certainly implied;
queens dethroned, spells intoned
If only I could but have that precious sleep denied.

Instead I stay here,
stuck here, caught here,
Neither tasting nor seeing those miraculously supplied;
sockets rubbing, bed sheets snubbing
Longing for that precious sleep denied…