Just a little chaos
I noticed I'm looking for a bit of fun
and oh so many will run
they don't get you
Although in a way I do

The mind is a storm
of feelings and words
I'm a captain braving the storm
they told me it's not worth it

And maybe it isn't
but I just want a bit of fun

My impulses guide me again and again
Light in clear path yet I stray toward sin
A hand grabs my shoulder to pull me back in
A familiar face, room, and warmth from within

Sweet fragrance of the void of which I cling
As I jump I start to hear the angels sing
Their singing growing to a shrieking sting
Oh god how I wish I still had my wings

Impulsivity, I am hopelessly in love with you.

Buy the shoes.
Ditch school.

Kiss her.

Drive 30 minutes
for french fries

Kiss him.

Buy 18 pet snails.
Eat the octopus tacos.

In acting class they told me
to follow my impulses.
At home they told me not to.

A blessing and a curse
might land me in a hearse
But I’m living

Today I wrote a letter to someone I love and I’m going to send it

Tomorrow I might stay home and cook pasta,
or maybe I’ll drive to Portland.
Pack only a few T-shirts and my terrifying
overabundance of freedom

Are you proud?

I’ve been told not to be so impulsive.
To think more rationally.
To weigh the consequences.
“You’ll regret it!”

But the greatest regret I’ve ever felt
is having not done anything
about something that is my everything.

I know I’m not an idiot.

I’ve told myself this for years and I’ll stick to it,
but there will never be a day
when my mind defeats my gut.
Sometimes it means I’m

irresponsible.
Unpredictable.
Messy.
Slutty.

“Who are you anyway?”

I have a secret
-I don’t know who I am

And if I’m lucky, I never will.

You, my impulsivity, are to blame and to thank for that.

fuel desperation,
and so are valuable
assets in the game
of spinning chambers.

one ***** is all it takes.

you might not believe
a person still wading
through adolescence
could harbor such
malevolent intent.

one slight is all it takes.

age is barely even
a consideration when
haunted by the desire
for revenge or need
of self-preservation.

one fragile moment is all it takes.

fewer years simply
equate to shallower
perspective, exacerbating
youthful impulsivity.

one bullet is all it takes.

The feeling of not knowing what you’re writing
Because all of your feelings simply pour out the words

Love me forever or not at all. You are either drought or
you are ocean. I am begging you to make up your mind.
Do not wrap your hand around my throat unless you intend
to finish the job. Tell me I’m pretty or spit on me before you go.
You say, you aren’t going to like this, babe, and I tell you to
hit me with your best shot. Burn me alive but make the flame
last, sweetheart. I am bored with this short term love and you
are either going to ruin me or **** my wounds forever. You
can leave if you want, but make it hurt before you do, give me
something that will last, give me a scar to remember you by or
do not touch me at all. See, I want this long term ache more than I
want your short term love. Touch me; leave your violence on me,
touch me hard or do not come near me at all. There’s a love some-
where that will stay, but you’ll find it on Jupiter, you’ll find it tucked
into a young star’s gut, you won’t find it here, you won’t love me
forever. Leave for Jupiter, sure, but take my heart with you. Bury
me in your love or let me dig my own grave. I am not a man of
many hearts and so if I give you this one, I won’t take it back. Hold
it forever or crush it under your foot. This is a dead end, and don’t
I know it? Love me forever or not at all, do not leave my clothes
on your lawn, do not let me in if you are going to push me out,
give me your heart or do not offer to hold mine.

I met you in the depth of your despairs
during open season and the risk of open wounds,
cut, damaged - only one can repair.
The power you held and the pain you endured,
frivolous, approached and seeking something of worth
but one may only know
the long-awaited truth.

I make these decisions
in the heat of the moment

contemplation is non-existent
my fear is my opponent

stuck in an endless cycle of trepidation
no rights or wrongs
have found themselves in this equation

but to bathe in the what ifs
would force my head under

no air to breathe
and still left to wonder

so these decisions are made
sporadic as they come

I won't be transfixed
you'll find me on the run