I want to reach out
the pads of my fingertips
to the silken bags
under your tired
"battered blanket"
eyes

Because your eyes tell the same story as mine

And to compare and contrast
is simply the best medium
of recovery
in my humble opinion

Because we're so young and painfully present

And I feel as though our hearts
have been pulling
with a magnetic charge
and a gravitational pull

Because our empathy is astounding

What if
It happened

What if
I have to tell the world
With an unspoken shame
A teenage catastrophe

What if
It happened

I'm not even 16
I'm not ready
Let's just stop

What if
It happened

I don't think I can take a life
Decide something so big

What if
It happened

And it's all gone in a blink
And I'd just stare at that paper
With unbelieving eyes
And an unsteady hand
Just breathing out the truth
Gasping for air
And for something real and tangible

And not a positive pregnancy test

Reassure my broken organs.
They'll play just like a piano.
They moan and carry on,
Just like a soulful cello.

I'm indecisive and uncalled for.
My state of mind: complex.
It's all here waiting for you,
Waiting to dissect.

I hope you stay for a while.
I  hope that I intrigue.
I hope I don't drive you away,
Or wither you with fatigue.

All in all, let's face it.
I'm done with a disguise.
I'm ready to let down my walls.
Prove my decision was wise.

In the darkest rain.
In the bitterest cold.
Let's go see a band,
let's listen till we're old.

We'll walk hand in hand.
Lead by streetlights.
We'll sample the stage,
and the city's finest delights.

Drawn in by the music,
Held by our curiosity.
I like this new feeling,
And it's strange familiarity.

calloused hands
massage my unwound fists.
hungrily touching my line covered palms.

a strong force
has me in a silent grip.
patiently pulling me to an untraveled edge.

"Where am I going?"
"What am I doing?"
"Is this all too rash?"

but back in the moment,
all I know is that this feels good,
so I'll stop talking.

The beat of a drum,
thumps
in the carpet of my soul.

My insides vibrating,
lumps
of dense emotions.

His foot on the pedal,
lurches
the vehicle of sound.

Everything's pounding.
Everything's loud.

Soulless
Worthless
an empty Carcass

I'm sitting and I like sitting
My life is so pretty
I smile because I like to smile
I'm completely fine
I'm fine

Rippling tar
Black mass of hell
Engulfing what's left

What's left?