Do you bleed when you write?
When your fingertips
get sore and your muscles
get tight
Do you bleed?
From your heart?
With each beat comes a new
line
and you hope that it sounds like something
that doesn't quite rhyme
But it sounds good in time.
It'll sound good in time.
Just keep writing.


Keep bleeding.

Heavy heartbeats
                         Exhausted body. Everything hurts...
          Muscles cramping, tightening, dying
                 Headache pounding. Empty thoughts

i Keep rubbing my wrists and my forearms nervously anxiously and can
feel the tendons ache and the muscles on my left forearm snap back and forth: a (broken) guitar string slapping the frets every
time it is
strummed.  If i push on the muscles --or the string, perhaps there is no difference-- too hard my hand (goes numb) and the cord (chord)-like muscles seep exhaustion into my skin --forgive me for this. there is little i can do and big i can do but all i remember is everything
it starts small a little bit of pain but i know I will willingly take it for just

( a little bit of you )

infiltrating me I don't know why my legs ache and my skin fights against me I am grateful for You fighting for me grateful for me fighting for You

this has been full of change full of upside down i am proud of my START AGAIN abilities of my explore: drive anywhere you want GO GO mindset
but sometimes I ache. calling you nightly is
not enough but I promise to make it enough
to try to make everything you do
feel like more than enough

                                             i love when the sun is warm and it is cloudy and i get the opportunity to trip over you Accidentally or (not so accidentally). falling into tears every time I hear a symphony play-- perhaps there is no love in the world comparable to a
symphony or perhaps I am
sinfully biased due to my
experiences with symphonic beings

i Intend to live my life Running or dancinG with symphonies blossoming between my tender and temporarily not calloused
fingers and
with you and we
Constantly reinventing what it means to be Alive  
I will try my best ( for you and for Me) but
there is not
enough time

A storm haunts the summer night.
The thunder cracks and makes you shiver,
Making your muscles tight.
Flowers begin to wither.

The thunder cracks and makes you shiver
The lightning takes your breath away.
Flowers begin to wither,
As fear lingers and stays.

The lightning takes your breath away,
Making your muscles tight.
As fear lingers and stays,
A storm haunts the summer night.

You never really know how strong you are until you're alone,
crying and forced to pick yourself up off the floor.
That is when you can truly see how big your emotional muscles are
and I promise
they are bigger than you ever thought possible.

What words should I have?
What can I possibly say?
What will ease your concerns,
Better your agonizing day?

The truth is, as long as pain continues,
And your muscles never mend,
You will never be at ease,
There will be no words I can lend.

You make the pain, my mother,
As long as you accept drink as lover,
The pain is not going to cease,
You will never recover.

These are the words I have found,
There you are, my sweet mother,
Now it is your decision, make the choice,
Are you done or will you have another?

Don’t you dare
Even think
Of turning that chiseled back
On me
I loved you
Cared for you
Now you walk away
Just walk away
Can’t handle my fury
Run to you
Scream and punch
Scratch slap
Bawling crying
Grab my wrists
Pull me close
Say “I don’t love her”
“You’re my only, you’re my all”
Lift me up, spin around
Kiss me hard, my head spins too
Let you go, and I say
“Don’t you dare
Even think
Of turning that chiseled back on me.”
Look so deep
In my eyes
And you swear
One final time
“Never”

I groan as I fumble in bed
Collapse over the rail as I depart
When my feet hit the floor
Every part of my legs ache
I'm not supposed to hurt
I'm in the prime of my life
What is wrong with my body
Then again, what has ever been right