he asks
when will it open
what, i asked
your heart.

he says
i brought hammers but
i fear it might hurt you
i said
soft, love. soft hands.
soft touch is enough

he says
kiss me
you won't have
to open your legs
just your lips, nothing
else
no, touch me soft

he tears my heart
and licks the inside
i moan
because my tongue is
tied

he touches and touches but
i won't come
i won’t come but i still
moan to keep him
occupied

im afraid the wolves
might come
i tell him when it's all over
that night the moon was too loud

so you trust me?
he asks
like howling wolves
we lie, crying
and as the dusk came he
covered me in his arms

in the morning i woke
to see the bed empty
only stains of the last night
in the bedsheets

i was afraid the wolves
might come

I’ve been wearing a mask and telling lies
to anyone who will listen in this town,
and sunglasses can hide your tired eyes
but they can not hide your frown.
I’ve been saying all the right words
every day and on repeat,
the song blends in with the birds
and the traffic on the street.

I’ve been lying in bed,
arguing with the silence in my head.
Every book I’ve read
just says the same things that you said.
I’ve been lying in bed,
thinking I’d be better off dead.

I’ve been walking with a limp and a crutch
even though my legs are working just fine.
And I’m always thinking but never say too much,
but I will never turn down a line.
I’ve been speaking all the wrong thoughts in my head,
but no matter what I do they seem to never go away.
I’ve tried replacing them with the righteous ones instead,
but it’s tantamount cause the instinctive ones just stay.

I’m lying in bed,
arguing with the silence in my head.
The sunlight I dread,
I much prefer the nighttime instead.
I’m lying in bed,
starving though I’ve just been fed.
I’m lying in bed,
thinking I’d be better off dead.

I didn’t get to choose the colours for my painting, but I swore that I tried my very best.
And what do you do when you hate your creation?
Do you hang it up with the rest?
I packed for a trip with no return
but skipped bringing anything essential,
I had to walk a path just so I could learn
that every action is consequential.
And I’ll tell you now that even the right type of misery can be happiness
it all depends on what you yourself choose to feel.
Nothing is perfect so it’s best to embrace the mess,
it can be imaginary but we both know it’s real.

I’m lying in bed,
arguing with the silence in my head.
Every single layer I shed
is consumed by ink and lead.
I’m lying in bed,
hoping for a second chance with each med.
I’m lying in bed,
thinking I’d be better off dead.

I love my bed
Nobody can hurt me here
I'll bundle in blankets
and watch movies of love
that I'll never have
and I don't have to put up walls
because they're already around me
and I might not feel good
but at least I don't feel bad