We both turned off our read receipts (long ago?).
Don't want people to know when we
see or maybe
it's the choice
it's the control of perception
a light push back
arm's length reception.

You said you didn't think I understood you
and so it scared you when you found out I liked you.
If there's something I can understand,
oh god
it's that.

I don't want to push you-
or rather pull you
too close too vulnerable too soon,
know that.

I've been waiting a year to kiss you
and the waiting was so sweet,
wrapping wool around my finger,
sincere.
I will wait with you,
and for you,
my dear.

I'm not sure if I care that it's cliche.
Of course, these words have been said,
even crooned,
but not felt to their fullest extent.

Okay then, so I don't.
Because I've never felt this way
So right
My mouth holding the "so" like a velvet quail egg.
So natural and no sick
pit
throat closing
mind roaming
kisses like I used to have.

Nothing has ever felt so right.

I wish I could tell my old self
my young hunger
eating up a man's desire for me-
that it's a sour substitute for my own.
Belly full of unease,
maybe self-hatred
but not that pointed
a denial of my own needs.

I wanted to be sure
and I never was
but now I don't think we have to be.

I think we both feel the possibility of ephemerality
but I can't let this pass
without an attempt
trying to grasp
your shirt collar
to hold your sweet face
and trying to fight against the innate,
terribly strong urge to kiss you.

This is just as new to me as it is
to you.
I don't mind wringing it out to dry
in slow motion.
Unfolding with you slowly
softly floating
seeing where our hands land.

That sounds just right.
I love that.

you haven't talk to me since that night.
no text
no like, or comment.
cause I guess that's how things are now.

I still have your vacuum.
your expensive, high-tech vacuum.
but I haven't used it since you left.

I know it was me who initiated things.
I'm the one who told you to go.
We cried and hugged and kissed and it felt too beautiful to be it.
Too beautiful to be a break up.

it was your birthday.
and I want you to know I didn't forget.
I felt it creeping up on me like coming to the end of a roll of tape.

when will you call me?
will you ever?
I still have all all your things; too big to put in a box to hide.

you still had Sarah's bed frame in your garage and I wondered.
I wondered if this is what it'd be like.
But- you talked to her.
Does that make me stronger?
For not caving?

you said you needed space and I listened.
but I don't want to listen to myself.
I want to break the stitches and gush to you.
I want to break the silence and talk to you.
But I respect you too much to put that on you.

I made the decision to be alone,
but now I realize that I don't want to be.

so I'm looking for someone.
But I don't want serious.

but then what do I want?

It makes me fill with something.
some gas, or thing
maybe not jealousy
but something close to it
when I see that you care about astrology
now
though you thought it was stupid

you wanted to teach me
I didn't want to be taught
but you loved me so I sat through your lessons plan your rambling facts on things I don't care one bit about filing up my mental real estate like krisp, klean, kondos in the North end- but you understand that now.

maybe I taught you?
I'm not sure either of us would admit to that.

why did I find it so hard to create with you beside me. Like my energy was being ****** up from me turning to sloth when my whole life I've been hungry, absolutely insatiable but now so full I could barely move.

is that love? did your love steal my magic?

and I wouldn't say steal. more like weighed on. more like dampened. but you held me so tightly I love you I lvoe you I love you sweet boy I still love you even if I need to be alone right now.

I don't want to feel like I need to be alone forever.

I had so many conversations with so many people. You know about Hannah, but there were so many. They all told me to leave. But- I don't know if this is any better. I don't know if me sitting and listening and being idle is worse than this spouting, plunging, hole.

but you never opened up, did you?
things you said we'd talk about- therapy sessions you said you'd go to.

I wonder if you'll be shiny, sparkling clean for the next one.

all "fixed" and open and unrobotic and ready to share without tantrums and fast driving and me being scared for my life. I try to forget those parts. They seem like a different person. Someone who could **** me. Someone who could **** you.

my therapist once told me that she didn't think I would go through with it. But when I saw you like that, I believed you could. I think that scared me the most.

Flippant. Uncaring. But- you were everything. I saw everything in you- the devious aggressor and the gentle pathetic victim. but there was no spark. there. I said it. There was no spark. But I cannot deny that it was a slow flame- and it lulled me into a soft sleep.

I'm not asleep. but I want to be now.

Patrick always said that I wasn't really there. I know what he means now. I don't know if I have the energy to be. I used to be so full of life and zest and now I feel like a sponge so full of the fuckery of it all without a way to ring it out.

and I guess that's why I'm writing again. Because I don't know if I want to talk. I don't want people to look at me like I'm ******. I know I'm ******.

so you're into astrology now.

I need to write more.
I need to write more since it's not coming out any other way.

I tried to speak to you.
I tried again last night.

The words would not come out,
I know it's cliche. I know it.

I've been neglecting my thoughts,
squishing them hard with my palms,
into a paste.
I've been trying to feed it to you,
but your mouth is shut and your head is turned.

It's ok, because I know there's nothing to love.
I'm not myself anymore.
I'm just hurting, that's all.

I understand that you don't want to live with me.
That's ok, because I know, I've tried escaping me too.
But I'm glued at the seams, and as much as I pull,
there's no breaking through.

Yes, you can walk away.
Yes, I'd like that in a way.

Since you're not pulling it out.
You're not eradicating my pain.

I must seem so silly to you.
So simple, too.

I don't blame you.
I don't blame you.

But I cannot erase the thoughts of girls saying exactly what you want them to say. I cannot erase the thought of you in bed with your best friend. I think you'd be a lot happier without my ****** up head. You'd be a whole lot happier without my ****** up head.

I'm definitely more interesting than she is.

I'm not saying this because I'm cocky or confident; I'm not.
I just know I am.

But why do I have to count and quantify a value for a girl?
Why is flesh a commodity?
And why am I trying to up-sell myself?

This self objectification never ends.
It is internalized to a point where I can't even feel emotions from the inside, only from how others would perceive them.

So detached from life.
From self.

I know she must've been great. Your family loves her. You did too.

I don't want to sell myself, but I'm feeling like I have to.
So insecure of my own "worth".

I don't save lives.
I don't even know if I can keep my own.

But I love you.

And she did too.

I can't think of better or worse, how I would stack up or compare.
But do I have to?

Am I my own ****** up ****?

air sweet
with heat and moisture
"can I stay over?"
"yeah"
smoking together
laughing and playing
smiles invading
what I thought was cold and hard to crack

and so **** what I thought,
I guess
hungry kissing
I miss those lips so much
they feel so good pressing

I never wanted to leave
I think you want to forget how good love feels

reasons who said you won't help me
you don't want to hurt me.
no one has tried to
crack me
not even my best friends.
maybe no one should love me
as if to shield them.
that's something I could understand.

I'm obviously at fault
what's changed?
sometimes you can't understand someone
no matter how hard you try.

He cannot believe
that I have my own opinion
my own lense
my own life

He is a pushing, smothering
ideal
He is wanting to steal
the only thing I have

But I am not 16 anymore
I am a week from 19
I am strong, I am loved

I've seen my faults, I have forgiven my faults. But I will never be able to forget what he's done. Never.

All this time, he thought there was a chance.
That my kindness stretched over fire and hell.
But I'm not stupid, I'm not ignorant to hurt.
I know how that would feel.

discomfort births interest
and I hate that
because I like feeling comfortable
but I need that interest

why can't I just find someone who doesn't hate me?
someone who doesn't want to rip out my arteries
and watch me bleed out
staining the carpet
fuelling the "inspiration" he needed
or becoming the answer to his questions.

I'm tired of watching myself be torn apart by someone who feeds off of my pain

Nobody cares
Shut up...

But I care!
I do and I told him I didn't and I told me I was done with it but his eyes look at me and I can't help but smile and giggle but I don't
Know if he actually wants me like I want him right now and it hurts in my chest like he's sitting on me saying "But I'm a man. I'm a man."

You can be a man and still not hurt me? You can be a man and not waste your chance with me.

And I feel this longing deep in my chest behind my ribs and I feel like the water is at my lips but I can't taste it. I just can't taste it. And so I'm looking frantically for the water and it's with you and you have it but you won't give it to me, you *******. "Oh, later." but ******* I want it now.

In France everyday must be something
Going somewhere
******* someone

I'm not used to this
I'm introspective
Observing and waiting

Maybe Patrick was right
I don't make impact
But maybe that's what I want right now

I'm a bow turned too tight
wanting to break my own ankles
to feel relaxed

I would scream if I didn't feel
uncomfortable and too big
doing so

I'm tired of shrinking as I grow
and playing nice to people
who don't deserve it

I paint myself like a *****
to see if I can emulate it
so I hope it's working

I'm not stagnant

I'd smoke tobacco if it was from your hands
I think I'd do anything if it came from your hands
I've always felt this way for as long as I've known you
I can't articulate it

I'm not being creepy
but I have always watched you
not in the creepy way
but I just wanted to
know who you are
but you were always so far
away
I wanted to feel
whatever you felt
even in a small way

I have waited for a long time
and so I am nervous,
as you may find!
So when you walk me down the street
and talk to me about nothing very neat
I'm still blooming on the inside!
I'm absolutely shattered in the gentlest way.

I want to see you another day.
Maybe when I'm not so nervous.

What does he know about hearts?
He's a smart boy,
a genius perhaps.
Stanford taught
and although that seems impressive
it only scratches the surface of his résumé.

What do I know about art?
I can paint meaning onto anything
that could be better described as feeling
or intuition.

And although he knows all the parts
of the heart
and how to properly knot vessels,
does he know the thrum and the ache of it all
willing it to stop beating?

But yes, yes he does
He knows a lot about hearts.
And me?
Not so much of art as I should.
But one thing I do have in common with that boy,
I learned everything that I could.

I don't love you
and I never have

I love the idea of you
and how you look
and your taste in music
and everything

but I don't love you
and I'm sorry

Because I tried!
You have to know I did!
But I'm so sick of pretending

The wholeness seems almost attainable.

I carry around a glue stick
and a hammer
everywhere
I want to keep it together

I gave a girl my socks the other day

I take some of the things I've done
and collage them
try to piece them into
a cohesive me
but I can't figure
the correlation
there always
needs to be
a thread
a tie
between each experience
and the whole of
me

City bus
My ******* pulling
from the rumble and rattle
on top of the potholed pavement

Sideways moving
like a roll of film
Panorama life
yet only a picture
since it doesn't feel real

Detached
devoid
But the rattle pulls me back
I'm intact
I'm alive
The bus makes a crack

Am I an audience member in my own life?
Or is this dysphoria impermanent?

Tonight is the night that I accepted we aren't going anywhere and never will.

Thank god.

The *** holes made me feel alive today, something I hadn't felt for a little while. I've come to terms with the constant, dull, burning you leave in the back of my throat and in the pit of my stomach. My body isn't yours anymore.

I can't believe it took so long
in limbo
to find solace in
never but I'm not
surprised that you think I'm joking.

You're no longer an option, simple as that, and although you may have staked claim on a piece of my heart, I'm expanding Westernward, myself.

Don't manifest my destiny,
because I already know where it takes me
and that is away from you,
I'm sorry.

We both knew it would end in flames,
but I don't think you realize that I made it out of the fire. Charred, but out.

Please go and set another woman on fire. Let her feel the sadistic misery and, though redundant, let her learn to hate you as much as she hates herself.

Love is a silly thing.
But Hamlet, us women are not fickle.
We only are protecting ourselves
from the fire before
we lose our bodies in it
and start to believe that souls are separate.
I'm whole.

It's one of those days where punk songs make you cry

I am brimming with love and seduction, feeling the air on my skin as if it's water, like liquid surrounds me and reaches every bit of skin.

I feel everything, every breath reaching deep into my lungs, my neurons and their synapses, connecting my heart and my head, leading my soul.

I'm crying at a punk song, because it's so raw and so exactly how I feel, a mirror which tells you what to look like.

I want to be loud and exuberant. Just living, ****. I want to have all the air in the world, then explode.

If you had a chance, you just blew it.
What the **** were you thinking?
I can't even begin to place myself inside your head,
like I have so many times.

I was awake the whole time.
I wanted to throw up so badly,
On everyone and everywhere
You're so disgusting.

I love you so much
Do you want to make me feel so sick,
And make my head spin so much,
That I can't even sleep?

I've been up all night and you have to steal my sleep
You ******* *******
You just blew whatever chance you had left.

I never write poetry anyway
What am I doing with my life?
and I'm not looking at paths
but spheres
that can cross and weave
that's my life, breathing and living for
progress and change searching
far across the plains of my mind
making reason and emotions combine.

Do I want to go to art school?
*******
Who am I anyway?
I want it so badly but shutting a part of me feels like amputating
I was never one for pain I didn't derive pleasure from.

Pride is a silly thing

I want to come home
to a bottle of red wine
and you
with a jazz record
and a summer breeze.

Breathing is such an amazing thing

When I hear your heart beat, I'm amazed

I think that's funny

Please, let's make salads
and steaks
and walk down the cobblestone
I want to draw our life

in his kitchen he asks me
so why are you personally affected?
a friend
a friend was *****
in Charlottetown?
yes

I don't know if I'll ever let him now it was me. I don't know if I want him to know. I'm not completely sure he'd care.

But I want you to know. I don't know why I share these bits of myself with people I barely know. I guess it's the same with performing. If rather sing in a room full of strangers than with friends.

But ****, that's different. That's not something you bring up at grandma's dinner table, let alone the fact that you know what *** is. There's a stigma, and no one can know how scared you felt on that August night.

But he doesn't know. We walked by the spot where it happened just last week. He wanted to sit there, it looked nice. I never want to be near that place again; Charlie's greedy hands entering my motionless body. His hands are so different, I don't want to associate the two. I feel like crying.

Fathers are important. I don't want to be the girl with daddy issues; I'm not. But not having a father growing up is something you can't describe. I think he knows, partially. Divorce is hard, but my dad was never there. And I don't mean physically, because sometimes he was there physically. He just wasn't there. We didn't talk. We didn't do things together. He was idle and I was a child. I had no idea who he was.

And when I went to Mexico, I missed him. And it was one of the first times I truly did. I felt immensely hurt, the kind of hurt that goes past the physical. I felt genuinely unloved and deprived. I yearned so badly for a father's love. I wanted so badly for him to say he was proud of me. For turning out half decent without someone to show me who I was.

See, when he went to Mexico, he brought me back a ceramic, heart shaped box. I admired his efforts, for even thinking of me. Now, when I'm there, my best friend also gets a box for our friend. But it's chosen with specifically her is mind, then lovingly filled with beautiful shells found on the beach. It's so ******* stupid. So ******* stupid. But I don't think my dad would do anything like that for me. And it makes me angry, and it makes me cry. Hell, I'm crying right now. It's so ******* stupid.

Do you think it's stupid? I think it is. I'm crying over a ******* box. But it's not the box, you know? It's not the box.

I don't know what to tell you, James. I'm crying over a box and a boy who touched me almost two years ago. I don't know what to tell you.

The limbs of the trees
snap
break
die
covered in ice,
when water
is really everything to them.

I wonder if that's what love is.
Knowing that
the very thing that let's you live
can **** you.

It can turn to ice so quickly.

You eat breakfast alone
At a place you've never been
Fighting the lonely
With a scone
And a coffee

Making meaning from nothing
On the pages of your sketchbook
There are faces of no ones
or the someones you imagine

But the feel of your features
feeds the fear in his heart
Makes you think homes are
made of skin not steel parts

You could only imagine
that kissing felt good
You could only imagine
You were hoping it would
But nothing could prepare you
for the feeling of him
Nothing could prepare you
when you saw the lights were no longer dim

another night with you consumed in my thoughts

I never really thought I could feel this way
and I'm somehow unashamed
of my want of you
of my craving

to think,
at home,
there's the sweetest of any man-
waiting for me?
I'm boggled
blown away

I want to grasp your hair
soft, pleasant, lovely
I want your hands on me
strong, skilled, hungrily

you just know how to woo me-
I'm getting breathless right now,
writing this
just thinking about your leg touching mine
and then my hand on your cheek
then my lips on your lips
and my pelvis on your thigh

oh god you make me
want to scream

your sly
sweet
eyes look me over
pleasantly
without greed
and I know
you want me
as much as I
want you

I hate PDA,
but I would kiss you anywhere

I've been thinking about you all night.
I still refuse to believe that it's been 5 hours since
so, I'll meet you in the practice room
and pray that no one notices

I'll see you in 5 and a half hours
I'm aching
My lungs won't fill all the way
I'm shaking

I want to dream about you tonight
finally
So goodnight, sleep tight

Can you kiss me again?
please
You're so "me"
it kills me

Can I just lay on your bed?
please
listen to you play
with my eyes closed

Can we simply breath together?
please
I know you're "you"
and that comforts me

For ****'s sake
**** straight
just please
Can you kiss me-
again?

I don't know what to say
about the way you make
me feel so calm but alive
and warm even when it's
cold in the snow the rain
or anything

I feel like warmth surrounds
you and I would walk 10 miles
in snow storm in my sneakers
beside you with eye lashes
frozen closed

put on a jazz record
please and thank you
I want to stay so badly
and say how I feel
but-

I've never felt so good
in soaking wet clothes

When I read George Orwell,
I can only think of you two having ***.
Tumbling, writhing in the sheets.
Mechanically organic.
Something I'll probably never be a part of,
sadly.

If only you could take a pick-axe to my chest,
Peer inside,
See it all, wet, glimmering body.
I think you'd understand.

Everytime I see you I try not to jump on you
Like a heavy dog
My owner is my dignity so I keep still
But I'm barking heavily (inside)

I've been known to let perfection slip
Unknowingly folding my hand
******* over my chances
At a game I haven't even played yet

If I was self-important, would you see me?

I get near crying
quite a lot
I guess
and
even when I'm feeling great
I think things would be
better if I were to be
hit by a car
right then

I always thought these things
were always in people's minds-
always seconds from a suicide,
leaving everyone behind
but I'm seeing now that
it's just me and my mind
that are are constantly searching
for an escape against time

I'm kind of avoiding facing that,
because impermanence is
such a big part of my life
and I've learned through the years
we don't change, we just become refined
so I'm fighting with myself and my
******* hungry soul
to stay or to go
but I just don't know

whatever though,
my internal dialogue
is simply
dialogue
until it materializes

the field lies aplenty
through my fingers
crossing gingerly
luscious, bluffing, green
not afraid
and non forgiving

how I wish I was a field
how I wish I didn't envy
all the plants and trees and grasses
laying silent in the country

I don't think you understand
I don't think you understand
I'm so close to breaking hands
of the ones who held me back

I don't think you understand
I don't think you understand
I'm one step from breaking hands
of the ones who held me back

I don't lash out
I don't anger
very easily like most
but this pent up
rough aggression
keeps me banging on the post

of life, of love, of happy
never knew any of those
so I'm constantly, fevently
knocking
feeling shut but full of prose

I don't think you understand
I don't think you understand
I'm so close to breaking hands
of the ones who held me back

I don't think you understand
I don't think you understand
I'm one step from breaking hands
of the ones who held me back

he smelt of smoke
so that smelt like home
guitar strings and acrylic paint
always sleeping, bored, and lounging
anything could really wait

now I'm older
but no different
and still haunted by the past
of the time taken from me
of the things that never last

I don't think you understand
I don't think you understand
I'm one step from breaking hands
of the ones who held me back

I don't want you to understand
But I'll stand on this land
never sacrificing self
never sacrificing hands
the hands of him
the hands of him
the hands that tried to hold me back
can be broken with me leaving
they will never touch this skin
again

They say that 90% of people
waiting on ***** donor lists
are waiting for kidneys.
People die
everyday
waiting for
People to die.

In a world where we don't
have organs for everyone
who wants
and needs them,
I ask,

"Do they need to harvest these organs right after death?"
"Yes."

How can I accomplishment that?
what loopholes do I jump?
Quick, painless, in plain sight,
without scarring those around.

I think of my previous options,
a rope, some pills, a gun.
All of these have faults now.

Until I can figure
a way
a how
to give my body
to someone else
to give my body
to someone how might actually
appreciate
life.

I need to wait, I suppose.
Finding life in looking for loopholes.

the feeling of a fleeting summer
the anxiety of a loss
snow plows out at
2:30 am
and in my bed I toss

momma fell asleep at the wheel again
mommas on her meds like always
I took a few pills
from her purse for thrills
they end up tasting like empty hallways

poignant, pulsing, peppered pills
give me some water to drown it out
you know I've always hated the sound
of open doors closing

what a little girl
would give
to have
a mother back-
healthy
to have a mother back-
again
to have a mother that was present;
a mother that wouldn't resent
you for being part from him

Is the blanket blue or green?
Who's blind now?

My therapist says I'm a Walking Challenge;
Is that what you saw in me?
A broken soul that you could mend
But in the end
I challenged

Tonight
I'm going to give you some advice
I should have gave you
long ago
down the road
maybe you'll thank me
For my complete
and utter
honesty

I'm not happy that we're done
I'm just glad to be a ****-up
And the battle wasn't won
all the soldiers just went home

Only you can tell me otherwise
Only you could tell me blatant lies
Only I could take your supervised
view of the world
And see it through different eyes

I am frightened now
at what you said
But it all makes sense inside my head
That you search for broken
bent
and dead
To revive what you think you can.

But some things are just better off numb
and don't think that you are the only one
to save
to be the "man"
to fill the holes
of souls that never were empty.

You're trying to fix things that were never broken
Always searching for the upper hand,
when I only stood equal.
And now when you say she's
"possibly even more ****** up"
than I was;
I understand.

I don't want to hurt you
Like I have with other guys
They all say the same thing in the end
That I "changed" them.

I honestly don't get it.

They say they've changed.
They haven't.

I say I don't want to hurt you, I probably will.
And for that, I'm so sorry.
I don't want to be your first heartbreak.

Oh ****,
Falling.

and it's the exhilarating kind of
fall where you are heading
down face first
into a field of fresh berries and cotton
soft and sweet but luscious

And I told myself I would not attach.
Not after him.
Not after that.
But I feel like this is fresh
and has potential for life
and not closed door romance

Do you still think of me
when you see a dress
like I think of you when I see sus
penders at the thrift store?

And although I don't possess your love
do you feel it fleeting, slipping, in a quick
second when you remember my
milk white skin?

I don't know if love is constant,
a coefficient, with a short half life
fuelled by intimacy and clever conversation

But I know mine wavers
like something flapping in the wind
and I don't know what
but it's so powerful that it robs me of my
breath when I am reminded of
You

Sometimes it stays.
These moments are consumed by you.

My therapist told me that
she's "not worried"
because she doesn't think
I'll "act on my thoughts"

When she can't see through my façade, I know I'm good

I guess no one reads between lines anymore
and I kind of want to do it
just to show them that I could.
One last act of defiance.

Everything is overwhelming.
I just want to sleep, mostly.
It's scary to never feel awake
and to know that it might never change.

I want off.
Off of life.
I'll never be what I wanted to be,
so why be?

I ******* hate how even after this I still feel scared to live.
I wanted so badly to die.
And now I'm still scared to live.

I hate myself for not asking you
to city cinema.
I still have the two tickets
sitting solemnly,
knowing very well that they'll
never find their rightful owner.

Make up your ******* mind.
I wanted so badly to talk to you
One last time.

Staring patiently at your icon
with a green circle.
Because you're there,
but I was just too *******
scared.

And now I'm scared to love anyone else.
Because I know how impermanent it all is.

I wanted so badly to die,
and now the one thing I wish is that
we didn't have so much in common

As a child
We see ourselves
As important
As the centre of our worlds
Pursued by burglars
and murderers
Always in the centre
Of an exciting story
Making cities in dirt piles
And castles in trees
Running from house
to house
Like they're kingdoms
And we're kings

And not so different are our adult ways
We control our own destinies
And we alarm our homes and equip them
Because "it could happen to you"
Making buildings from dirt piles
And building cabins from trees
Driving from city
to city
Like they're different worlds
And we're different people

At the edge of the bed-
black ice
on my face
because you can't
see these tears
but you can feel their pain

Refrain-
from telling me I need to change
I will never
not for you
to keep from going insane

It's plain
to me
my back to your body
You have never loved me
you only loved my body
But not its innards
Its facts
Its unsightly gaps

Keep your criticisms to yourself-
you want to improve me
But I'm comfortable with this
hatred, it's coursing through me
Running
full speed
adrenaline pumping

I know what I'm changing
it's you that I'm dumping

I'm jealous
because you did what I couldn't
do
But wanted to
for so long

And executed
with such
beauty
and grace
right down to the place
perfect

But you can't see
the heaving
heavy
hearts
of the people you left behind
and the weak ribcages
struggling for air
and an answer to
why
and
how couldn't I have known?

I wish I was gone too

Why didn't I take the plunge?
Regret fills me.
Two tickets to city cinema
waiting
Why didn't I talk to you?
When I had the chance.
I was a coward,
scared of rejection
and now I can never know
if affections were returned

I can hear you in my head
still
Minolta
Pentax K1000
Lenses
Engineering
And I wonder why you loved photography so much.
Was it the pursuit of perfection?
Was that your heaven?

Scared of the sacred
Of what is inside me
Growing
possibly

I'm scared of the God that
placed this in me
I'm still a child myself
Only 17

I don't want to be shunned
Or feel sick to my tum
I want to be done
Give me the gun

I've been thinking a lot
about you
lately
Trying to piece together
the fragmented image
of a shattered
view of you

I found a song
you played for me
many times in your car
And no matter how much I listen to it
I won't know where you are
If who you're becoming
is better for me
All I can hope is that the stars
direct us to each other then
Cause right now I feel so far
Away

Star filled rooftop boy
You hurt me good
And the bruises on my knees
Are purely pleasure
And nothing like the welts from my childhood

This is short lived
I know it is
No need for plans
Or conversation
About how this'll end
Or how we'll part

You're easily amused
But I think I struck a chord
You'll remember me, right?

Lie to me
tell me I'm always on your mind
It's fine by me
Manufactured bliss at hand
Cause I'm somewhere else
That place is not here

And it's not near to you
Although I thought for a long time
that I was dear to you
I've got blood on my hands
Cause I'm the one who killed this
I just knew it had to end

Maybe I'm in Montreal
Maybe these flowers are Quebecois
I wish you'd understand
That these places are feelings
and my feelings weren't placed with you

Maybe this house wasn't hell
And these walls weren't my jail cell
I wish he'd understand
And no he wasn't selfless
He was just selfish and mean

So demeaning-

Understand

I don't need you anymore

Maybe

You were just a bore

Neglect
ing everything around me
and inside me
everything I am

Rotting slowly
unshaven legs
smelling of sweat and
lost love

*******
on top of the sheets
and my clean laundry
dirtying without care

Neglect
ing myself
and the giving
of a care

Oh sly sweet sugar of a man
you make me feel at ease.

I find it in you,
comfort,
with a cross on your neck.
I never thought
you'd be in the church
because you're delectably *****
and taste of pure sin

You're so nice
and quaint
but bubbling
beneath
is a beast of a man
a rough brute of a boy

Oh sly sweet sugar of a man
you make me feel at ease