I never asked you to bring me the horizon
I never dared to dream about having you

after a while I still didn't knew where I was looking for
I always thought that I was looking for something called love
but I began to realize love is not just a simple word made out of letters

I adored him for the way he looked, dark and dangerous
the tattoos on his arms and neck, the piercing in his lip
I fell in love with his personality, his kind and loving heart
the way he looked at me everytime I walked into the room

this boy could make my heart skip a beat without doing anything
loving him was the most real thing I have ever felt in my entire life
through all the tears and constant fear of not being good enough
he always made me feel special, he gave me everything I needed

I still remember the first day I saw you
you were wearing a black band tshirt with ripped sleeves
it was your smile what made me stare at you, it made me melt
I knew I wanted to have this human in my life, forever

from that day love wasn't just a word anymore.

I said I never liked commitment , I've said it half my life .

When you first met me I made it clear I was bitter and would only use you for the night..

You took me on broken and bruised and picked me up piece by piece .

I told you you would cut yourself I will most defiantly leave.

You looked at me and said it was okay because you needed new scars.

You picked me up bit by bit , cut yourself on the shattered parts.

Told me you loved me every day and every night.

You never really knew if I heard you so you made sure to say it twice.

Commitment was never for me you would always here me say.

But you never quite understood how I could my ink my skin but not let you stay.

The Canvas Skin strikes again
With a breakdown of mental boundaries
My mind has never stretched so far
Or expanded to such an extent
That the former impossible
Is now within such short grasp
And the idea that was harboured within
Is now beautiful ink
Underneath skin.

I want to mark my body with
bruises from  deep kisses
adventure laden scars
and a mouthful of Mraz’s words
inked under my skin saying
“We’ve got some joy in this thing”

I want glyphs inked into my skin
A needle to caress and stab
Crying stains as an apology for the pain
Leaving behind a mark
But not a scar
Never a scar
A reminder, a promise, proclamation
All the sigils that ever were
Etched into our coverings
Leeching into bone
Changing and reminding
I want something permanent
Even if I change

Snarl of blood and antiseptic
Glint off needles,
Buzz of a drill
I hover in the doorway
Anxious, uncertain

Marked faces, legs, arms
Metallic attachments
Shaved off hair
I stick out
Pure, untouched

Wave of tossing heads
Vibrations uplift
Strangers unified
I am alive
Filled, electrified.

He blends life into still forms
An exchange: green for a frame of darkness
           And,
Other worldly as it may seem,
          This
*Is where he fits

Time spent with you falls moment after moment,
onto the fabric of my soul,
as tattoo ink is irrevocably embedded into skin.
Even in your absence,
your late night whispers can be read on my skin
in all the places your breath once touched,
as fingerprints show on fogged windows,
longing once more to be touched
by the hand of a celestial lover.

Your battle scars defines who you are
Colorful and distinctly beautiful
Not like any other
Incomparable

You’ve witnessed restless nights
Those nights of pain and anguish
Partly memories of a distant past
That reminds you of an eternal sunshine

Clouds may be gray at night
Shadows may lurk from side to side
But remember that you are a beautiful scar

A scar that cannot be erased forever

should have taken one

picture as i walked in

bed spread tight

all folded and straight



me dog tired

before a long hot shower

cramped in one tomorrow



with everything i own

spreaded wastly around

a colorful explosion



I will walk around

picking up the pieces

stepping on geography



not singing over maps

using a finger

to caress a route and  



the thought of you

limping from hotel to hotel

and a sleeping bag



go away

artists’ lives are messy

it’s a known fact



the walls are disheveled

would I have some glue

to nail you there and there



I will hop around happily

tattooing words about us

and hiding some

under letters