Our love is not normal
**** all that nonsense
This is a tapestry of our real, filthy stories
This is our beautiful love

Love by the sweat of our brows and breaking on our backs

This is not innocent, sweet, romantic love
This is love with swear words, dirt, and bruises
Scabbed over wounds
And interwoven scars

Love is an Armageddon

Let’s fight my demons together
I hold the sword
You hold the faith
I’ll take the blows and you’ll feel them
You make me believe in what I’m doing

We are clad in the defective armor of past lovers
Who were not strong enough
Not brave enough
Not up to our challenge

It’s not the cliché: you and Me against the world
It’s us against and within the multiverses I (we) create, survive, live in
Some maniac deity randomly switching channels absent mindedly

There are no white flags
Just a constant (technicolor) marching crimson war banner
Beating  the aortic drums of passion
Against the stretched ribcage bars of a super nova nuclear reactor
Barely contained
Always on the verge of meltdown
Cooled only with your tender touch

Our romance is played on my fingertips
Like a jagged out of tune guitar
Angels wince and monsters dance along
To the throbbing carnal symphony

Like a rabid jackal screaming into the night
Like a mismoshed dubstep cacophony
You don’t know why it works
Never sure it will
But you can’t turn away
You like it too much

I want it painful and messy
Like rainbow mud: *****, sticky love
So I will remember to feel it
When we ask “Why the hell are we with each other?”
I want the answer to be so obviously
The only one left
“We love each other”

I promise you nothing less than the infinite multiverses of my manic imagination
You are the idol my every creation worships
This is the Phoenix burned to cinder
Rising from the ashes of our jumbled, mixed, scattered pieces
Spawns our golden child


And then she says, “Was that just a marriage proposal?”
“Honey, every word I say to you is.”

My, my
Beautiful mornings. And wet grass -
Oh, hello you lot! You fabulous lot!
Lying in 'til noon in your soot-washed townhouses
Tall, pumping chimney smog and fruit stained letters into the London sky,
I see you - Miss Vanessa, Miss Woolf, Forster, Fry!
How we all swarm about this little town now!
Look how I eat pomegranates and write prose in your name.
Look how I put on sturdy boots, and totter from square to square -
Admiring this honeyed writer's air.
Oh, evening all, lights of London, subdued spring-time!
Eucalyptus suburbs, just a short walk from bedlam and grime.

I'm a bit different,
that's what they always say.
I go about everything I do,
in my own sort of way.

I'm a bit unique.
Where others are straight I'm oblique.
When some choose red I choose blue.
That doesn't make me less of a person than you!

If who you are,
doesn't line up with even a single star,
then shine brighter then others do,
knowing that there's nobody else like you.

Walking about,
there's no need to pout.
Just smile and wave,
don't force yourself to be how they expect you to behave.

You are you,
and that's more than enough.
There's no need for changes,
that makes for too much fluff.

So if you're different,
just like me,
then think of it as a gift,
of which nobody else could receive,
and make your own special mark in history.

i.
I feel like my legs have been stamped
and sent around the globe -
perhaps one flew to Austria to hear
the string quartet that stole my heart,
and the other walked to Amsterdam in
hopes of finding the soul I sold,
now stored on a shelf in a mason jar.

ii.
There is no metaphor,
only mileage -
a life lived long enough to realize
that love speaks louder than language,
and all an artist can do is strive to
describe the strangled kiss with
hit and miss letters,
myself no exception.

iii.
I remember tearing a photograph in two
and trying to stitch a half of each of
our faces together - forcing them to fit.
When I looked upon the product, the monster
I'd created, my legs began to shake.

If the leap of faith is
a quantum one
unexpected company
wants some
and
John
could be
strategically insignificant,
legally
deemed incompetent,

I
rest my case
reset my face
and place an order at
the bar.

My Sunday
so far
so good.

Nirvana you want
As God's grant
O those faces
Of relieved 'pupils'
After heavy days
Of an exam
Their minds not jammed
O have your thoughts crammed!
Buddha saw four sights
That caused him plight
Luxuries of palace
Couldn't prevent him
He took his flight
Into a world of light
Unknown as you might
In search of ultimate truth
Of this world's delight!
He was changed
Will you?
He formed a sangha
Oh not him
His pupils
So as we might
Remember something
From our book
Its heights!
Let's read and
Learn something
From around us
Let's form a sangha
For doing this
In this light!
Reading this
Caused you much plight
Like a plant afflicted
With blight?
I know it,right?

Some people say that love
is the only thing you need to be happy.
But is that really true?
If someone actually loved me,
like, REALLY loved me,
would that make me happy?

Maybe I want to be happy on my own..
Am I capable of making myself happy?
My depression says " you know you can't".
I mean, I guess it's true,
I'm not happy. I haven't been in a while..
And I'm all alone...

So I need someone?
Do I really need someone?
Someone who thinks they need me too?
Is that the key to this lock
that I've been trying to pick for years,
with broken nails and shaky hands?
Another person?
A boy who sees something in my eyes
besides a dim light, desperately trying to shine
over a raging sea of tears?

Maybe he is the key.
Or maybe he holds it.
But where is the lock?
Where? Here?
Buried inside my chest?
The lock is... my heart..?

But what will happen to me
if this boy unlocks me with his key?
What if my chest explodes
giving him the perfect opportunity
to steal my soul from my body?
To take my life away?

Is this life without love?
Do you need to love
and be loved
to finally feel alive?
                                           What is "Love"?