Candle-lit it feels nice
Nights
Start to lace themselves with
Cyanide-
Another boy,
Another bed
But jesus ****
The first is still stuck in my head.

the serenity of suicide is intoxicating,
drawing me in.
like a moth, willed to light.
the way i once got caught up in the world of ***, drugs,
and sad teens with nothing but happy faces.
as a throwback begins, i am whirled back into
the adrenaline of fake happiness.
if only it was that easy now.
i am now nothing.
an insignificant girl
in an insignificant world.
let me be whisked away, away from it all.
oh the temptation.
who will save us from this labyrinth of suffering?

You are forward motion.
There are no steps without your shadow
before, behind or beside me.
We are sun that reflects light on the moon
and in turn, the moon lights our paths,
the cycle of light creating light
like cycles
of love creating desire;
creating more love
creating more light
desire satisfied continual motion
even when we are still.
The words we speak  
form mist to pass through
by the moisture of our breath
shaped in letters and language.
Spaces we create
both expanded and enmeshed
by droplets of our waters
lost inside the body.
One body of water.
One body of light.
Creating passageways and shadows
in forward motion.