Love is dangerous
The heart is brutal
****** spills my guts
I want to adopt her lust
Knife to my throat
She robs me blind
I don't want revenge
I just smell my sheets
Her smell lingers
I ball up like a fetus
Love has abandon me
Let this be a lesson
Love is dangerous

It was never about the way she looked.
Truth be told...
I truly adored the way she looked at me.
I just wanted to be seen.
The way she observed me was pleasing.
I made it easy for her to discover all that I am.

When
I was five years old
my grandfather
took me to
a pond
probably in New Jersey
but who really knows where
lost back there.
The sun was setting
the light was golden
with god rays
floating through the trees and clouds
reflected
in the water.
The fish were surfacing rising
jumping here and there.
Innocence peace perfection.

I was in awe of life
and
to young to know
what this moment would become.

The beacon
the lighthouse
on the edge
calling me
showing me
the way home.

As exaggeration
has set in
with aging and pain
the moment became
the symbol
in my dreams
trying to make it back
to that
New Jersey pond
and
depending on
the state of my life and mind
in my dreams
I
would see it over there
sometimes
hanging in the air
in distorted images
of
cold wicked docks
sitting on
dry desert lands.

No water
no grandfather
no peace
alone
in exposed
and vulnerable landscapes
and
sometimes the water
was just over there
But
I was lost
in rooms which had no doors
and eyes that had no windows.

Standing on an island
surrounded by water
but
no setting sun
no rising fish
no grandfather to hold me up
on that island
spinning.

The beacon calls
I have always been moving
towards
that
perfect moment
with the sun setting
the fish rising
my grandfather holding my hand
a piece of peace
forever the end of my path.

The Peeling:
The mask has harden/
The heart has conformed.
Survival at play/
The need to perform.
Evidence of change/
Mirror rejection.
Never forced inside/
Entice by questions.
The answers set guilt/
A war was waging.
Now lines will be drawn/
As the world keeps fading.

"It's a shame,"
A mother  says to her daughter,
"that such pretty girls think such dark things."

But there it is --
The very reason why us girls think thoughts so dark:
There is beauty in death.

As soon as we're gone,
People suddenly want us.
Celebrities will pray for the poor young lost soul,
We'll suddenly be beautiful in everyone's eyes --
And everyone will want to be our friend.

Suddenly those bullies want forgiveness,
And your out-of-your-league crush likes you back.

You'll never age -- a constant beauty.
You'll be pure -- negativity buried with your body.
You'll be smart -- the one "with the bright future."

Suddenly we're wanted,
Missed
Mourned
Loved
We've gotten all we've been searching for!
But what good does it do us,
if we'll never feel the suns warmth again?
Never again to catch loose snowflakes,
Or smell the spring dafodils?

If you can bring yourself to never laugh again,
To never kiss again,
To never dream again,
Then it's on you.
But don't tell me you'll go without regret:

Maybe you'd still be alive if someone told you sooner?