Your skin is soft and mine is rough
to the touch—but somehow
you still let me taste you
with these rosebud fingertips
which have kissed pinkies
pricked thumbs.

If a page view was a straight view
Into the eye of the mind
Its not.

I say I'm not gonna spend a dime
and waste my minds precious time
waste bated breath on some unread rhymes
act like its fine
like it's always been a victim-less crime
like I didn't feel like I was on the clothesline
hung out to dry
buts its fine
its fine
its fine
It's Fine.

But...
I am fine..
I would never say that I wasted my time.
We're in different vineyards,
We're maturing
And you make a very fine wine.
I just have the tendency to martyr myself sometimes.

Over sleep
Undercook
Picking Scabs
Laying myself out for the day
Pulling my feet down to the carpet

Fall in love with the insane—
Because crazy nevers leaves the honeymoon phase,
sadness can always be romanticized,
and appreciation stems from contrast.

Do not fall in love with the insane—
Because you will never realize it, but you'll know it:
that nothing sober will ever match up to psychotic intoxication,
and you will always be living your life
knowing you can't be satiated on sanity.
You will settle, and you will be happy:
But you will always be looking for the madness in people.