I took your ticket and
Pondered the number,
When might it be me?
Was a thought that I wondered
But now, as it seems, you want us to
Stay, not move on, just stay
As we are.

I thought I was playing a
Waiting game,
Anticipation of
Life
Linked in a love to be
Blessed.

Dreams of white
Danced round my head
And although I'm still twirling
It seems the music has stopped
And the wait is no more

For there is no other room
No other next level,
The door locked
And you hold the key

I could cry
Drown in tears
Try to swim through the keyhole
But I thought you were my ticket
Thought you'd let me in

I can't fight in the waiting room,
Nor beg you to move through
For if you wanted me, if you wanted to
You'd have taken my ticket and said
"I do too..."

I have broken parts of me
That I never want you to see.

But if I'm going to make a change,
I might as well let out the raw vulnerable parts of me,
And let you take your pick,
You can stay or you can walk.

And it's a ****** mess,
Quite literally,
The stories of these scars.
But smear away some blood,
And you can see something different.

And I'm scared of what you'll find,
If I tell you all my secrets and fears.
Because what if you leave,
And take those parts with you?

But the only way to trust someone
Is to trust them.
So here it is, here I am,
Here is all that I am.

Every broken vulnerable bit.
I don't have much
Skin left unmarked,
But if you'll take me as I am,
I can see myself
Half as well as you see me.

And I'm terrified
That you'll shine lights
On the darkest corners of my mind,
And run for the hills,
But the Bluebird I know
Is one of the bravest people
I've ever met.

Maybe I'm something atrocious,
Or maybe I'm just downtrodden,
But either way,
I'm scared but I'm as ready as I'll ever be,
Because I don't think anyone is ever really ready for anything.

I'll dig my fingers into my ribcage,
And split myself
To show you my heart and all it's scars,
And my soul and all the stains my sins have left upon it.

Close your eyes,
And don't open them until I tell you to.

poems
existential ***
curious no longer
not surprised anymore
blatant
unforgiving
no word wasted
all composition
decomposed
to the most nurturing
afterthought
when it reverberates
echoes into
vagueness
wandering into
the most complex
interactions
interpenetrations
of gender
the most intense
experience was
trying to remember
the intensity

Exponential Nothing
cancer
whiteness is a free radical
no allegiance to organic intelligence
exerted by a force
a pressure
that made some of us humans
slaves
no loyalty to being a human
once and for all
our bodies do not know
what to do with it
like fake sugar
used to be real
used to be liquor
used to be steel
nuclear whiteness
instability
exponential nothing
it did not take nature
into its equation
colonizing our cells
deep
affecting our gene function
what is the cure?

Trouble has its own number.
This prank would be funnier
if you were by my side