You're like a phosphorescent phish,
swimming quickly through my brain
Leaving trails of glitter to slowly filter through my veins
I'd rather dream in black and white
But you prefer the color blue
So I'm stuck with aqua daydreams
'Cause all I dream about is you.

Paint a stop sign green and GO away,
one way, says some arrow painted on
the floor. You know its only another
rule to break. Then paint this sign
magenta, another cerulean.
Just transform another street into
a Crayola crayon box. Go three times
the speed limit, stupid driver. Get a
ticket. Get a life. Give me your ticket,
but tell me its for the Train. Stomp on
the "T" in train, and stop to kiss me in
the rain. You're a weatherman now--
Flash Flood Alert!! Drown yourself. If
you survive the trainwreck, at least.
I'm still hungry, so I'll eat the "T" in hearT.
Hear me out- and read my lips. Read the
turquoise sign on my lips..oh wait, I ripped
out your eyes. Oops. Too bad you don't
know braille. I'll read it for you- it says
"Dead End, Straight Ahead." You're
STILL alive?? I've got an idea! GO paint
the red light green, run into traffic, and count
1, 2, Splat.

Cracked an eye,
still a smooth blanket of dark.
Glue unstuck, the pebbles tumble
to my brain and scoot and sing
across a caffeine urge,
simple movement,
groggy knowledge.

Urination, caffeinated, contacts in,
rockslide.
The inner bump and stumble,
never slowing,
Dead awake.

I long for things that I cannot possibly express.
I am like a blind girl, running headfirst down a hill, trying to see the light through wide but unseeing eyes. I'll run through the world, but I can't see whats right in front of me.
I am like a deaf girl, sitting quietly with beautiful headphones on my ears. I can imagine what might be coming from them, but what do you imagine sound to seem like in unhearing ears?
I am like a mute girl, reading black ink off the creamy pages of a book, but I can never speak them. Their tones fall flat and lifeless without a voice to say them.
So the darkness and the silence press in on me and I fear I am unable to speak the key to my longing.
Trapped by desire, I long for wondrous things.

Lets break these chains
like hyenas break bones.

We're going to kiss
before our lips even touch.
We'll dance
before we even hear the beat.
We'll break
before we even bend.

We're going to wait for the echo
before we even make a sound.

So scream it all out before you take a deep breath,
and set me free before you draw me in.
I can't stay trapped forever,
not even in your arms.

A melody resides within your gaze
Of sultry brown and subtle lighter streaks.
It sings a song of heated summer days,
With promises of love in warmer weeks.

Your eyes met mine and I could not resist,
The notes they sang were like a siren hymn.
True; lips as sweet as yours I'd never kissed,
This love did not come purely on a whim.

But as time passed the warmth in them grew cold,
Your melody turned quiet on its own.
The distance made the song grow awfully old,
And soon enough I found myself alone.

As summer faded slowly into fall
True love was lost; my siren lost his call.

Come with me to the side of the moon
Where midnight flowers bloom in the gloom
The side of the moon where troubles melt away
And we won't ever need the light of day
We can lie in the shine of wishes unwished
And breathe in the lies of people unkissed
Come with me, I beg you dear
I promise you'll have nothing to fear
Except for all those spots between
Where raindrops fall behind a subtle smoke screen
Just ignore the lies I'm telling you,
Please believe my falsehoods true...
I'll make you come to my side of the moon
And you'll follow me into the doom.

happiness,
elusive
like a moth,

paper thin
and breathing heart,

skin with lilting
powders,

flight under blood.

your breath is painted
against the sky
and i am travelling
in spirals
with it
to the stars.

behind my lips
lies a sun
in full bloom.

we are static,
side by side and
song-hearted.
i feel the sun
peaking from its curtains,
i feel warm
creating photographs
of my body in your arms.


happiness,
elusive
like a moth:

i have caught it.

She dances in the dark in slippers made of moonlight,
Looking in the shadows for the fairies with twisted fingers
And the beasts with gleaming white-bright teeth.
She twirls in the eddies of thick, cold fog
And soaks it all in like a blood stained rug;
She weaves your whispers into trees like smoke,
And stokes the fires of our dreams.
Her black, empty eyes reflect no light,
and her dance is dark and eerie.
It flows like a dead man's corpse in the river,
It sways like a noose hanging in a tree.
You know this dance, yes, you do.
She's the nightmare keeper.
And she'll come for you.

If only reality had an off switch
so I could fall backwards into my other normal
counting
5 4 3 2 1

and I'm there....

I'd hold your hand tight,
as we spiraled through the myriad of stars
in a blanket of millions of colors.

aurora after u n r e a l aurora,
we'd float through reality
on a blanket of velvety blues.
Colors would (jump)
like my heart does
every time you hold me close.
and this magical light switch
would turn off reality
so we could float along improbably,
through light and time and matter and space

until the old reality implodes.

the entire sky felt too heavy
so it sunk to its knees
begging for relief
for the emptiness
that always follows the pain
numbness in place of agony.

this is the time of dying suns
that donate brilliant colours to the sky
for those who admire the deep red vistas
and feel the end of another lonely day.

hot shock to the system,
this is sunlight
breaking your body
with unbending hands,
the heaviest hit
hurting even the hollows
between your bones,

this is the time that shadows grow
scurrying and juvenile in their footholds,
the newfound cracks and crevices
where dying light has lost its strength.

the wind has birthed us
tornado children in the night
the dark swallowing us
to be as invisible as our mother
and just as powerful.
the sun is still shining
where you are,
as my head blushes against
a pillow.

this is a time of change
allowing the world to be something different
allowing us to escape ourselves
this is the night.

I ripped out your insides from the outside,
and I hung them out to dry.
I tore your outside to spill your insides,
and I stood and watched you cry.
I fed you lies for every meal,
and watched you eat them up.
I watched as you grew sick and sicker,
but even that was not enough.
I heard you cry and laughed out loud,
but you refused to see,
That even though you told me "never,"
you did all this to me.
You ripped me open and ate me up,
as my cheeks kept getting wetter.
I did to you what you did to me,
Only..baby, I did it better.

this is not a love song, this is brutal honesty
the mother tongue of a girl estranged.
i want nothing more than to curl up with you
i love the sound our lips make together
and how you stumble over my body
as we both explore new lands
with unsure hands.
i am always afraid
and i always want more.
i want you to tell me
that we have 20 minutes to ****
before you have to go
so why dont we **** the time
with no space between us
trigger me baby,
i'm your gun.
how many ways
can we taste each other?
watch me spill love
look for the
drips my heart leaves as i walk out the door.
i am lust
i am hunger
i am want
let every day be saturday night
we'll turn off the lights
and fall together
like pieces of the same world.
you warm my hands
into small fires
skin pressed to mine
hot like live wires.
you make me feel
like a breath,
an irish spring,
green in the sun.
your lips pave roads
from neck to breast,
the oceans of mouths
intermingling,
exchanging salts
and currents.
my heart swims under
your lips,
my fingers trembling
and clutching your chest.
my thighs are not as thin as roses
but just as sweet under your hands.
right now, i need you
truly madly deeply,
and the thunder
will break
soon
i hope

If kisses are water, I'll give you the seas
If hugs are leaves, I'll give you the trees

If passion is feathers, I'll give you the birds
If devotion is letters, I'll give you these words

If sweetness is blue, I'll give you the skies
If forever is seconds, I'll give you my time

And if love is life, then I'll give you mine.

he's already told me
if art were a girl
he'd **** her brains out

but I think you should know
a bed is not a canvas
but a bed

her hands are not brushes and pens
they're palms and fingers,
her face is not an array of pastels
it's a face of emotion,
her arms and legs are not shapes and figures
they're arms and legs,

and her voice does not hold flashes of reds,
and purples,
and blues,
and silvers,
and golds,

they're flashes of human.