Every day, I imagine a future where I can be with you
In my hand is a pen that will write a poem of me and you
The ink flows down into a dark puddle
Just move your hand - write the way into his heart!
But in this world of infinite choices
What will it take just to find that special day?
What will it take just to find that special day?

Have I found everybody a fun assignment to do today?
When you're here, everything that we do is fun for them anyway
When I can't even read my own feelings
What good are words when a smile says it all?
And if this world won't write me an ending
What will it take just for me to have it all?

Does my pen only write bitter words for those who are dear to me?
Is it love if I take you, or is it love if I set you free?
The ink flows down into a dark puddle
How can I write love into reality?
If I can't hear the sound of your heartbeat
What do you call love in your reality?
And in your reality, if I don't know how to love you
I'll leave you be

Pen in hand, I find my strength.
The courage endowed upon me by my one and only love.
Together, let us dismantle this crumbling world
And write a novel of our own fantasies.

With a flick of her pen, the lost finds her way.
In a world of infinite choices, behold this special day.

After all,
Not all good times must come to an end

The colors, they won't
Bright, bea t ful c l rs
Flash ng, exp nd ng, piercing
Red, green, blue
An ndless
CACOPHONY
Of meaningless
noise

The noise, it won't STOP.
Viol nt, grating w vef rms
Sq e king, screech ng, piercing
SINE, COSINE, TANGENT
Like play ng a ch lkboard on a t rntable
Like playing a KNIFE on a BREATHING RIBCAGE
n ndl ss
p m
Of m n ngl ss

Delete Her

But he wasn't looking at me.
Confused, I frantically glance at my surroundings.
But my burned eyes can no longer see color.
Are there others in this room? Are they talking?
Or are they simply poems on flat sheets of paper,
The sound of frantic scrawling playing tricks on my ears?
The room begins to crinkle.
Closing in on me.
The air I breathe dissipate before it reaches my lungs.
I panic. There must be a way out.
It's right there. He's right there.

Swallowing my fears, I brandish my pen.

An old tale tells of a lady who wanders Earth.
The Lady who Knows Everything.
A beautiful lady who has found every answer,
All meaning,
All purpose,
And all that was ever sought.

And here I am,

a feather

Lost adrift the sky, victim of the currents of the wind.

Day after day, I search.
I search with little hope, knowing legends don't exist.
But when all else has failed me,
When all others have turned away,
The legend is all that remains – the last dim star glimmering in the twilit sky.

Until one day, the wind ceases to blow.
I fall.
And I fall and fall, and fall even more.
Gentle as a feather.
A dry quill, expressionless.

But a hand catches me, between the thumb and forefinger.
The hand of a beautiful lady.
I look at her eyes and find no end to her gaze.

The Lady who Knows Everything knows what I am thinking.
Before I can speak, she responds in a hollow voice.
"I have found every answer, all of which amount to nothing.
There is no meaning.
There is no purpose.
And we seek only the impossible.
I am not your legend.
Your legend does not exist."

And with a breath, she blows me back afloat, and I pick up a gust of wind.

The colors, they won't stop.
Bright, beautiful colors
Flashing, expanding, piercing
Red, green, blue
An endless
cacophony
Of meaningless
noise

The noise, it won't stop.
Violent, grating waveforms
Squeaking, screeching, piercing
Sine, cosine, tangent
Like playing a chalkboard on a turntable
Like playing a vinyl on a pizza crust
An endless
poem
Of meaningless

Load Me

It couldn't have been me.
See, the direction the spackle protrudes.
A noisy neighbor? An angry boyfriend? I'll never know. I wasn't home.
I peer inside for a clue.
No! I can't see. I reel, blind, like a film left out in the sun.
But it's too late. My retinas.
Already scorched with a permanent copy of the meaningless image.
It's just a little hole. It wasn't too bright.
It was too deep.
Stretching forever into everything.
A hole of infinite choices.
I realize now, that I wasn't looking in.
I was looking out.
And he, on the other side, was looking in.

A Sad Lonely Girl
Walks to his house
Naive enough to think
That he likes her

She checks her hair, her dress, her cuts
better hide these, she says

A tall, shadowy figure greets her
Its green eyes glitter

M-----














MY KNIFE IS MY FRIEND
IT'S ABLE TO PENETRATE EVEN THE TOUGHEST OF SKIN
IT CUTS THROUGH DEEP TO EXTRACT THE RED
IT MINGLES WITH MY VEINS

THE PLEASURE MY KNIFE GIVES ME
OH, HOW I CRAVE IT SO MUCH
EVERY CUT GETS ME WET WITH BLOOD

DON'T TALK TO ANYONE ELSE
TALK ONLY TO ME

IF YOU LET ME COME OVER
I'LL SHOW YOU HOW SHARP MY KNIVES ARE