My body is not some pyramid
That you can ransack,
Abolish and steal anything
In your path.
It's a temple that requires
Soft thought and gentle footsteps,
Sacred prayer and silent understanding.
My body is meant to be worshipped,
And held in highest regard.
It is not a something, but so much more.
It's a place;
One that will keep you warm
Through the winters, my heart lighting
The wood the keeps the fire burning.
It's a being;
More than some lifeless toy
That you lie on top of
And **** ruthlessly.
It's everything in between.
From the heavens above that bring
The deserving wonderful pleasure,
To the Grand Rapids that keep
Life dangerously fun.
My body is the tree that releases
The oxygen you breath,
And the small rabbit that you want
To pet and coddle.
It's capable of anything and everything,
So I expect you to treat it
As if it were the sky,
Something endless and always worth
Exploring and excitement.
My body is me.

If I died tomorrow
I'd not only leave behind notebooks and pens,
Pastels and chalky handprints on walls,
But entire worlds and emotions stronger
Than the winds that make skyscrapers dance.
I'd leave behind scribbled screams and
Sacred secrets blurred together with
Reds and pinks that passionately slur into
Truths that have never been told.
I'd leave behind dragons that exhale purrs of wisdom that can be harmlessly crafted
Into beautiful cat eye shaped diamonds,
Which would decorate the neck of
Each breathing creature.
And children born with a thousand unshrivable
Hearts that beat for every being,
And hold nothing but compassion
That burns smile shaped scars into every mind.
If I died tomorrow,
I wouldn't leave behind anything special,
Just the worlds I'd hope to greet with
Arms held high and a happiness that will
Prance across fields of sunflowers.

Like a flame to a cigarette,
You set my body on fire
And it slowly burns,
Releasing the smoke that is my desire.

Like the nicotine,
I crave you almost hourly
And you make me insane
When you refuse to give me my proper dose.

I want to feel your lips
Dance around the filter
And I want your lungs to
Inhale my pleasure.

But like all my cigarettes,
You've burned out
And have left me to go madly
Into withdrawal.

The greatest moments ever
Were strung together by arguing over
Who would get to play with the most
Beautiful Barbie and the smell
Of an innocent, sleepy morning.
When the day was new and the excitement
Of choosing what to wear,
The purple leggings with a Harley
Sweater that would growl when
We would push on the center.
When all of the neighborhood kids
Would meet on top of the hill that
Held our imaginations greatest creations.
The greatest moments ever
Were when our mother's would arrive home
From being gone for far too long and the
Scent of the night would consume our nostrils
And just remind us that she'll always come back.
When security wasn't an issue, we always had our
Beds, even if monsters threatened to steal
Us from our lives, we'd hide under blankets.
The greatest moments ever have now escaped.
What are we supposed to do, adulthood is
A neverending nightmare that refuses to
Let up on its smothering hold.
Our mothers are no longer able to remind us
That they'll always come back, the
Mornings aren't innocent and
That hill was torn to pieces.
The monsters aren't afraid of blankets anymore,
They actually walk among us.

You take your secrets,
Fold them up and place them
Deep inside my stomach.
When you close me up,
I feel them bashing against
My inside walls.
They want to be read.
You tell me they're nothing
And your secrets don't like that
One bit.
They want to be known
So badly that they are beating me
Down.
I hear them whisper,
I feel them poisoning my blood.
You don't even notice
When they stop my heart.
Your secrets want to feast upon
My organs and use my mind
As a napkin.
They want to shield me from your touch
And hide all of the sunshine.
Because the way they see it,
If they can't have you
Nobody can.
You have locked them away
But they have just found a key
And that key is a knife to my gut.
They yell now,
They scream and shout.
I can't hear anything else.
I hate you for choosing me
To hide them within,
You should have at least let them
Be read.

My lips curl around my last cigarette.
I allow the smoke to mix with the air
And fill my lungs.
I exhale the poison

And pass the tobacco ridden stick
To my only friend.
I watch as she does the same,
With clouded eyes submerged in sadness.

She stares straight into my soul and
Whispers, We're in this together.
Little does she know, I loath spending this time
With her. I hate sharing my last cigarette

With someone I can't stand.
I turn my head, avoiding any
Need to say a word,
And as she passes the cigarette,

I shift my gaze back onto her face,
And notice that I'm staring into the mirror.

That number can burn a woman
To the ground.
It's like that child that won't stop
Screaming for her mother.
It gets louder and louder,
Screaming,
Reminding,  
Soon the woman can't look herself in
The mirror.
Because she'll see it in her face,
It'll yell in her ear,
You're hideous!
When she walks down the streets,
183 will wrap it's hands around her
Legs and shake violently,
So her body looks like a walking
Earthquake.
It'll puff out her stomach and arms,
She'll have to cover up
In big shirts and jackets.
It'll draw little lines
All over her,
Until she resembles a road map.
183 is an evil number,
It takes away her self esteem,
Breaks her love for herself
And locks away
Her reflection.

The moon,
The unchanging force
That has always lit up the
Silent night
Turned his back,
Scowled and
Flipped the switch tonight
"The world is sick,"
He cried.
The moon has watched
The green turn brown,
The air become toxic,
The insides drained from
Beneath the crust.
His love,
His one and only,
Has become weak,
And we've poisoned her.
The moon no longer
Can watch her die
And help her tormentors.
Tonight, he lost his light,
When she said
*"Goodnight."