oh, what i would give to sing a duet with you in the fog of the early morning
wrapped up in love and stable in every way
to grow a kiwi tree from the part where our hands can’t intertwine
and chant “forever”
i will hold your hand when death is gripping your ribs and slicing your existence in half
i do miss you so
and your champion complex
oh, what it would mean to me if we could combine our feelings
let’s become a commonality of emotions
draw me in the teal light of your ambitions
i wanna cheer you on in your accomplishments
can you give me your hand
cause if you do then we can swing in the branches of the sycamore and glow like fireflies in the raw moonlight
and sleep soundly in our ataraxia
dazed by the fondness of our evergreen admiration
i still love you and i still think about you
just give me the word
or a call

I find it interesting
how pleasing words are
when you are down.
How beautiful they feel
when you are empty.
How fullfiling it is,
when touch the letters.
How safe it is
to write it down.
How bizarre
when you realize
you are only honest
when nobody is looking.
How you lie even to yourself
and when it comes to truth
you write it where no one will see it.

Are you scared?
Scared to tell them
because the thoughts are deep, strange, painful.
Scared to know they know
because it might scare them.
How broken you are.
So you are here,
writing it down,
letting it out
and then you go back,
to your head.

i’m **** foggy on the memory
but i know you aren’t
my pulse is rumbling like a
freight train gaining speed
faster than lightening
ur gonna die, steve.
i wanna kiss your dimples
as you hold me as a tote
and tell me like a joke.
i’m purple
i’m bruised
do you got a leg up
on me for some reason
i’d still take that beating
to glow like a red hot
on a gingerbread man
and reek of pies
draped in leopard skin
i am not a vegan
how many times can i tell you this, steve!
are you crazy?!
i wanna go back to the foggy memories
and the summer seasons
caught in barbed wire
or fishnet
i’m not a vegan, steve!
stop touching me with your
mechanic hands and eyebrows
i am so exhausted from this torture
just **** me sir
stop decorating me with
wrapping paper
putting the bow on the box
i am not beautiful steve
how many dang times can i tell you this!
i am not a good person
i am the devil
we get it, you’re elvis
but i am memphis
you wouldn’t be anything without me
honey
ugh, but you’re disgusting
quit pacing around
the corridors
come home, stop making
homemade torture
homemade bombs
drugs for me to take
don’t rip out my brains!
please, steve, don’t do this to me!
how many times can i tell you this?
you mean dang nothing to me
if you bring me back
or place me in the cemetery
with mustard seeds
maybe you’ll mean something
but stop acting like you love me, steve.
you love my actions
and my cardamom tongue
you don’t like the people i love
the figures i look up to
get out of my delicious drink
how many times can i tell you this?
you are bitter
like strawberries
i can’t dip you in the chocolate sauce anymore
get out of my mouth
out of my brain
those double dimples
don’t phase me anymore
leave me alone to my crying, steve!
how many times can i tell you this?
i don’t wanna taste the scent
of your fake glamour
get out of my house, steve
how many times can i tell you this?
go drown in the ocean of the devils
you’d fit in there
cannibalistic carnivore
psychopathic idiot
go die in a hole, steve.
gotta get those peach dimples
out of your melting face
and make them into earrings.
how many times can i tell you this?
i hate you steve!

you stand on the dock of the ship
watching the waves rise and fall
over and over again.
you cower over the edge
glancing softly
but stained from the sword slashes.
you want to see the foreign substance
taste the liquid solution
choke your soluble throat
and bomb the disapproval of the miscreants.
you don’t know what to do—you’re conflicted.
you were told to make the best decisions
but what if you could never determine this?
maybe just one step
and the day’s treachery
and the slavery of the industries you can’t deny
will be gone with the snap of a finger.
you precede slowly
glance at the roaring aqua
and you don’t stop.
you don’t lose.
you only see blue.