We are warriors painted as children.
We've fought since we were born.
Our ax and sword tied to our mind
upon which our lives were sworn.

We carry the weight of the world we do,
in the hood of our favorite cloak.
It doesn't weigh us down but chokes us still,
making speechless words cease being spoke.

Our wrists are tied by invisible webs
wrapped in logic and basic understanding.
But they're spun by spiders outside our heads
that our structured world's demanding.

What can we expect from them?
Their eyes coat our heads like brandy.
They say,
                “Speak up,”
                                   “Shut up,”
                                                    “You talk too much,”
Or whatever words are handy.



Is it just you and I?
Me and you?
Us?
Could be, perhaps, maybe.

One day I hope there will be more than two.
And the next child like us will be


our baby.

Hopeful to not be tasteless,
I let you in to take a quick lookie.
You reached with intentions nameless,
and found my heart quite jankey.

Now out and melting in your hands,
The crimson essence drips.
All I can do is watch as if in the stands.
While I feel the smile on your lips.

The energy surrounds mine.
Trying to dig at my core.
As if it didn't cross a line,
Ignoring holes it tore.

Then I was claimed,
To be yours of course.
Your being was aflame.
Because I was the source.

My appearance to match,
Only your imagination's images.
as sweet as a cookie batch,
and no disposiotion to scrimmages.

Forgetting that cookies don't last.
After time they get eaten,
or become stale like the past.
Perfection achieved by being beaten.

Pressure makes diamonds,
You say I am no exception.
So I'll use my ribbons,
To give explanations.

And just like a cookie,
I will cover it up with sweetness.
Giving everyone a lookie.
Knowing I am tasteless.

Tricky sentences flew after moonrise,
A battle commenced under moonlight,
Swings and beams chased eachother
Like fireflies dance around lovers

It was a sight to see unlike any other
I enjoyed the chase as if I were further,
To be honest I didn't realize it was such a fight
until I saw my hand disappear to reveal the moon.

Stand with me on ten toes
a little piggy that markets a bit of love
And I know we'd kick  it better at home,
while I roast your friends every time we meet,
always having beef with them all
The don't know you truly for yourself,
quite frankly you're better off with none
Still you and I make a perfect we, we can feast like
a little piggy on sweet nothing's, when we're home alone

                    I guess we're still a bit like kids, in love.

If I showed you a still from a Wes Anderson film
I'm sure you'd probably have a lot to say--
a multitude of ideas waiting to pour forth from your mouth
and brimming off the top of your head...

I'd gladly spend as many hours as I'd need
waiting for you to empty your excitement
as you talk away about the things you love
in that adorable manner of wanting to say so much

Believe me when I tell you
your impassioned expressions
are more entertaining in their own cute way
than any feature film I can recall

Serve me a dish
of things I never knew
and stuff I could say
I only learned today

i see drops of water tracing the lines of your hair--
it's like you're crying but you're happy and i swear
even a painter couldn't muster the awe to bear
the sight of you under showering rain

i see nightlights peeking behind your silhouette
and the tones of your flustered blush try not to separate
themselves from the warm comely palette
of the shot of our figures in loving embrace

i see a blanket folded into your solemn sleeping shape
with curves smiling back; in a way, i wouldn't escape
had you had me landlocked within your pretty landscapes...


hug me tight
so that i might see
just how pretty you can be
under the soft glow of a burning moment

I've been missing for days
Caught in a fold
That crease in your cheek
Has swallowed me whole