Every day she plants the starseeds
that grow into wishing flowers,
their petals fall down to the earth
and we call them meteor showers.

We beseech the celestial wanderers
and when our words reach her ears,
she makes all our biddings come true,
but each one is stained by her tears.

She yearned for one to call her own
in her garden above the clouds,
but to think of herself and not of the world,
her duty is disavowed.

And so the lonely Starwarden
only smiled on us from above.
She could not keep the wish of another
just because she wished for love.

If not to touch the earth
and know your sun kissed skin,
if not to chase your shadow
through every place you've been.

If not to stand on mountains,
howling from the peaks,
if not to lie in fields
as melodic whispers weep.

If not to dance in forests
where tangled roots take hold,
if not to bathe in oceans
while eternities unfold.

If not to touch the earth,
upon me you would shine
and for that fleeting moment
I could call you mine.

I remember being a young boy
who was afraid of stormy days,
I knew that a sudden gust of wind
could come and take you away.

I promised that I would never let go
and to keep you within my sight,
but I didn't give you the freedom to soar
and often pulled too tight;

so one autumn day, you broke away,
I stood outside until spring,
but the boy who went out that windy day
became a man holding onto a string.

There was a time when you and I
were impossibly tied to one another,
when we reached the ends of our ropes
we had no place to go but each other.

Years of the world trying to pull us apart
had only made us more tightly bound,
but when it came time for us to part
there was no way we could be unwound.

The problem with knots is when they get too tight
and you no longer want them teathered,
you're left with a single heartbreaking choice:
one end needs to be severed.

A rope that's cut will lose its strength
and the ends will begin to fray,
so one would expect it to loosen in time
until it finally falls away,

but even though my end was cut
the day we were torn apart,
the piece of me that remained tied to you
became the chains that still bind my heart.

My second hand heart
wants to turn back time
to that split second moment
when your hand was in mine.

Another day in bed.
My pillow dry with tears.

You're waiting for another breakdown.
Another plea for help.

You crave me.
You want to corrupt my mind so that I will only be yours.

What hurts, even more, is how much it works.
How much I can't run away from you.

I could leave your apartment.
The door is so close.

Yet, after I cry you just shove your hands down my pants.
We get busy after that.

You make me weak.
You make me vulnerable.

You use me when I am out of strength.
To fulfil your selfish desires.

"Come here, I'll make you feel better."
My thighs are always bruised.

I expected long conversations underneath a sparkly sky.
I expected cuddles and reassurance that everything was alright.

What I got was a torn *****, bloodied bedsheets.
Bruised ankles and red eyes.

I never told you "No."
Because if I did, how would you react?

I didn't tell you this.
But I'm late.

It hasn't come in a month and I got worried.
I spit up blood more than twice a week.

How can I tell you?
You'll ask me to get rid of it.

Yet you keep pushing me.
My limits are breaking.

You're going to hurt them, stop thrusting.
It hurts.

Stop.

A ****** river pierces through
The raw heart of society
Inflicting souls of blooming youth
With socialized propriety

In the core of suburbia
The river flows along the roads
It runs into the neighborhoods
And out the faucets of their homes

What awaits at the river’s mouth
Is a mindless understanding
“Conform or be confused,” it roars
“And live on forever thirsty”

Most children of the world
Are begging for a drink
But some know the river’s tide
It controls what you think

To the conscious youth there lies a choice
To be lonely but be free
Or let the river erode your mind
And be carried out to sea