I forgot what it was like to be around her, i'm so used to being in the company of lighter souls.
The heaviness is starting to sink back into my bones.
The day turns to darkness, and back to dawn soon, and sleep still hasn't come because the battle between eyelids scanning screens and the inside of themselves proved to be easier than you'd think.

You made me forget that I didn't have a green thumb
You were the green thumb, you are the green thumb
and you're still around, you're still here, but not in the dark,
only when i've got the sunshine anyway, because you are the sunshine
and **** i'm not a flower when I'm alone and looking in the mirror at a single silhouette

I knew I was ****** when I started looking for my skeleton again

The truth is you hardly know these bones, you helped to hide them, heal them.

But every moment I spend with my thoughts brings them out more

They aren't necessarily bad, but I don't know who I am
I know what I want, who I want, who I want to be,
but who am I at one in the morning when I slip back into watching
dramas about people with OCD and anorexia and I find myself crying and wishing there was another skeleton for me hold on to...
one thats not mine.


****, I'm even writing again... That's a sign too.

One Winged Angel


Dec 10, 2011, 7:39:29 PM by ~OmegaWolfOfWinter
Journals / Personal




It was very late, and Lucian had just gotten back from his assignment. he unlocked the door to his house and set his things down on the bed. he removed his shirt and removed the bandages on his chest. that demon put up quite a fight... he put on a robe and decided to get some rest. he set his things down on the floor next to him and hung his sword by the bed. he exhaled deeply and relaxed, finally back in the comfort of his own home. sleep quickly enveloped him and he began to dream.
******
Lucian was woken from a deep sleep by the sound of his door breaking down. Two massive angels shrouded in black cloaks stepped inside his room as Lucian scrambled to his feet, feeling a sudden chill beneath his simple white robe. One of the angels spoke, "Lucian, Elite Angel number 373-14, you are under arrest for high treason, grand theft, and ******."
Lucian was dumbfounded at the accusation. "What on heaven are you talking about?!"
the guard-angels grabbed the warrior-angel and dragged him out of his house and onto the streets where a small crowd had gathered. They escorted him to the capitol, which wasn't far away. Lucian gazed up at the massive black monolith before him.
He was immediately sent to the rooftop, where the Punisher was waiting.
Lucian desperately tried to explain. "I've been set up!! Please let me go! I've done nothing wrong!!"
The angel to his left looked at Lucian in disgust. "Quiet, you."
He reached to Lucian's throat and he felt a massive bolt of electricity course through his body. He collapsed in their arms and blacked out for a moment.
He couldn't say anything; he had a sign of silence on his throat. He blacked out again and when he woke he was on his knees in front of the punisher. His hands were bound behind his back and he was held by a multitude of chains and braces. The guard-angel touched his throat and the seal of silence was removed. "elite angel Lucian, number 373-14, you are charged with high treason against the holy city, grand theft of a holy artifact and the murders of 7 holy officials, as punishment-"
"I didn't do any of those things!!!"
"SILENCE!! There is evidence that places you at the scene."
"What-"
"your punishment, you will lose your wings," Lucian gasped and tears formed in his eyes. "...and will be given the Mark of Eternal torture."
"No! Not the Mark!! Please no!!"
The punisher stepped forward and drew his slender sword. As he stepped forward, Lucian squirmed and fought against his bindings but to no avail. "God help me!"
"How dare you speak the lord's name, criminal!" the punisher slashed at Lucian's throat, grazing it and leaving a long, bleeding cut. Lucian groaned and said, "No... No... Please..."
the punisher stepped to Lucian's side and raised the sword. Lucian's tears came and began hyperventilating. "No, NO, NOO!!!"
The punisher brought the sword down and Lucian screamed in agony as one of his wings fell to the ground. Lucian was in so much pain, he wished he could die right then, right there. He was crying now, tears of sorrow and pain. "No, please, I beg you! Have mercy!"
For some reason the punisher then sheathed his sword. "Fine, you may keep your remaining wing."
"th-thank-" he was cut off as the punisher knelt down and grabbed Lucian's throat. He screamed again as he felt an intense burning. He continued to cry out as the punisher released him but the burning remained, slowly spreading over his entire body with such intensity that he lost consciousness multiple times. after an excruciatingly long torture, the burning ceased, and Lucian saw that it had etched runes and twisting lines over his whole body, almost his whole body, it had left his head and hands untouched. His voice had turned into a hiss and he tried to speak. he was unbound and he reached back to touch where his left wing had been, there was only a stump left.
"Lucian, you are hereby renounced of your warrior status. Get him out of my sight." Lucian was escorted outside, where the guardians left him stranded in the street. He blacked out and felt himself being picked up and carried somewhere else.
************
"he's heavy" thought the angel. He carried the limp body off the streets and through alleys, to an abandoned complex not far away. "Melinda!" he called. A slender young angeless came from the shadows.
"Who on heaven is this, Ven?!"
Ven looked around and said, "not here... Let's get inside."
he carried the angel inside and set him down on the dimly lit bed. He was still out cold. Ven sighed and said, "Remember that trip I took to the holy city?"
"Yes of course."
"Things happened there... the Network had me do some things..."
she narrowed her eyes. "What type of things?"
"i-i had to steal some artifacts...and some officials got killed."
"WHAT?!?!"
"i didn't get caught! But... i-i panicked, i blamed it on... On him..."
melinda was speechless," i-i cant..."
"melinda... Please..."
"no, i cant deal with this anymore, i'm leaving."
"wait!"
"no, ven. Figure this out on your own." and she disappeared.
Ven sighed and looked over at the one-winged angel.
"i'm sorry"
the angel stirred slightly but didnt wake. Ven looked at the stump where the angel's wing should have been, and the scars that lined his body.
"i need to take him to the Network... Maybe, maybe then i can finish what i started... And give this angel what i stole from him... I have to take him to the Holy One..."
he closed his eyes for a moment, then,"i promise, you will get your wing back." and he fell asleep.
**********
Lucian woke up as parts of his body burned fiercly. He cried out and writhed in pain. Soon the burning became a simmer, but it still hurt. lucians heart was beating rapidly and he was exhausted. He replayed last night's adventure. He glanced over his shoulder and as expected, he didnt see his wing. he could feel the blood caked on his back and he felt weak when he tried to get up. He fell and caught himself on the table. "wait a moment... Where am i?!" he frantically looked at his surroundings. He saw another angel asleep in a chair and a doorway behind him. The door looked weak but lucian wasnt sure he could do anything in his weakened state. "i have to try..." he ran, or rather stumbled toward the door and managed to break it down. He fell down outside and was temporarily blinded by the sunlight. He managed his way into the street, where the angels looked on in confusion. "i'm... this
is my street..." he hobbled over to his house and stepped inside. nothing had been touched since last night. "i'm not going to be able to find work... I'm not going to be able buy food.. agh! What am i going to do!" he sat on the bed, his head in his hands. he looked over to the wall, where he had his warrior blade hanging just in case. He grabbed his bag and packed some clothes. He changed into his finer dress clothes that he used on formal occasions. He grabbed his bag and put the sword on his belt. "i wish it didnt have to come to this..." he pushed on a spot on the wall and it slid away. Inside the compartment were his warrior armor and weapons. He took off the suit jacket and grabbed his vest. he put various weapons in their spots and shut the wall. He put the suit-jacket back on and buttoned it to conceal the vest. He felt energized and ready for anything. That was until he turned and saw the angel from the complex.
"where do you think You're going?"
"who are you?"
the angel looked amused and said, "you can call me Ven."
"well, Ven, i'm going to find the one who set me up, and i'm going to do what he did to me."
ven looked frightened. "why dont you come with me."
lucian didnt trust this ven. "i'm not going with anyone." and he dove through the window. He sprinted down the street, the bag and his sword held firmly in his hands. "i need money, i need food... I need to find him."
***********
after all these years of loyal service, after all he'd done, he'd been thrown out without trial, revoked his warrior status, and now Lucian was going to find whoever had done this to him, and he was going to make him pay. he was a fallen angel, and he had nothing to lose.
lucian was perched on the top of the church spire, contemplating where to start his search. *the evidence.. what evidence...?
"i'll start with the judges chambers..."
lucian looked to the north, where the monolith towered over the city. he jumped from roof to roof as he neared the building. i'll do whatever i have to... anything to clear my name. different parts of his body started to burn, and the others began to cool off.
the mark... its burning, it's going to keep burning...
he cried out and fell from the roof he was on. he hit the alley hard enough to break bone, but he happened to land on his wing, cushioning his fall, only a little bit though.
this mark is going to **** me someday... he checked his wing and brushed off the dirt. he folded the wing flat against his back and sat up. he got back on his feet and continued to the monolith.
will i have to live with this mark forever?
*************
(one day later)
"GET BACK HERE!!! STOP THAT MAN!!!" lucian was on the run. he found exactly what he was looking for, now he needed to find more information concerning the artifacts and the theif. but first he had to get away. he was turning corners and sprinting like a madman, but he couldnt escape the Detainers. then he heard a voice, "One Wing! over here!"
lucian looked towards where he heard the voice and saw an Angeless beckoning for him to come. "follow me!"
lucian reluctantly followed, winding through abandoned buildings and finally ducking behind an old counter. after a few minutes of silence, the woman said, "okay, we're clear. i'm Elora."
"lucian."
"oh... you're THE One-wing-angel..."
lucian looked down at the ground. "yeah... that's me."
"you were an elite, a warrior angel, weren't you?"
"yeah, but then i was set up and now i'm an outcast..."
"you were set up?"
"yeah, i was. i had everything i ever wanted, why would i need to commit those crimes? i was loyal, and trusted by everyone. and i swear that i will find whoever set me up..."
"and then what?" elora seemed to be waiting for something.
"i'm going to do to him what he did to me."
"what did he-" elora was cut off by lucian as he cried out. "what's wrong?!"
"the mark.... of eternal torture..."
"oh my gosh... i didnt know..."
"its nothing... i'm used to it..."
he took off his suit jacket and elora gasped when she saw his scars. she didn't seem to notice the vest of weapons or the sword at his side. "this is..."
"...the Mark..."
she grimaced as she saw them and said, "i'm sorry..."
"but why?"
"because, i was going to turn you in..."
lucian was on his feet immediately. "what?!"
"wait!! i'm not going to... not after seeing what they did to you..."
"how can i be sure i can trust you?!"
elora looked down at her feet and said, "you cant... but i can get you out of the city..."
"you can?"
************
Lucian was still finding it hard to trust Elora, but he stuck with her anyway. She took him away from the city and was about to turn back. Something inside Lucian wanted her to stay. "Wait! Don't leave. Come with me to the holy city."
She seemed hesitant but willing, "i-ive never been to the holy city...."
"It's an amazing place, quite a sight to see."
She took a moment to think and nodded, "I'll go with you."
Lucian smiled and walked forward. After long hours of relentless walking, Elora asked," how far do we have to travel?"
"A few more hours of walking..."
Elora sighed and said, "Alright..."
Lucian glanced over at her and saw that she was tired. "We should rest."
Elora and Lucian got off of the path ad took shelter beneath some gild-trees. "Elora, go ahead and rest up."
she reluctantly slept, but she was glad to, they had been traveling all day.
Lucian sharpened his blades and meditated while she slept.
Lucian prayed, like he had always done every morning. He had vowed not to let his becoming an outcast interfere with his routine. After he was finished, he sighed and glanced over at Elora; she was fast asleep. He then glanced at the sky and saw dark clouds quickly closing in. Lucian didn't want to wake Elora but he wanted to get her out of the rain. He set his suit jacket and weapons vest next to her and he extended his wing over her just as the rain began to fall. he was pleased to see that the rain would not touch the sleeping angel. On the other hand, Lucian was vulnerable, but he didn't mind. He would rather shelter Elora than himself. Lucian ignored the rain and decided to doze for a while.
***********
Elora woke up as a cold wind blew. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and saw the millions of raindrops in front of her. it took her a moment to realize that she was dry. she glanced over and saw that Lucian was soaking wet and had his wing extended over her. "You should have woken me, Lucian." she extended one of her wings over him as he shivered.
"th-thanks, e-elora." she could tell he was freezing because even the feather's  above her were shivering. she decided to do something to repay his kindness.
"come closer, we can share body heat." suddenly the feathers stopped shivering, they became rigid, as if lucian was surprised... apparently he was.
"really?"
"yeah, its the least i can do." she sat closer to him and put an arm around him. his skin was cool to the touch and his muscles were tense, but they soon relaxed, as did the feathers above her. he soon stopped shivering and the rain stopped falling.

*****, it's T-Raww, blood on my paws
Big ***** chick back a ***** to the wall
Never get involved, ****** every bar
**** so illegal, get a green card
Different cars, different from y'all
I work hard, you work at the mall
Pass a ***** off like my ***** John Wall
**** her in the dark, gimme the light, Sean Paul
Yeah, ***** I do this ****
Colder than a ******* penguin lip
And my ***** ***** fire gotta extinguish ****, Lebron James and ****
Got heat super freak Rick James ya *****, leave a stain and ****
On ya couch in ya house like brotherman
Hanging like Mr. Cooper hand, ****.

[Chorus]
Posing, Heisman [x3]

[Honey *******]
Yo, got a Asian ***** on my left side
Another Asian *****, right, right side
They might send your *** off to the next side
***** hold your **** breath 'cause you might die
Got a group of bad ******* and I feel good
Oh you're hungry? Too bad 'cause my meal's good
And I shouldn't beat a broad, yet I still would
But I don't tryna be bad 'cause the deals good
Yeah, now look I got the urge to feed them off some doggy ****
Type of stuff to make them feel like alcohol and potent ****
Hold the *****, just sold the *****, ******* pay me is what I told the *****
You can't walk or talk, I own you *****
Please don't make me hot, I'm the coldest ***** (agh)

[Chorus]
Posing, Heisman [x3]

[Tyga]
Well, running from the cop, boy born to ****
Hand me the lock, bring it to your front door, doorbell
Knock knock, who there? Houdini disappear
Got green, John Deere. More green, Paul Pierce
Amazing win shot, you my son, I adopt, dop dop
Pacman, that's for opening your mouth
Bust a nut, kick her out, lit a cigarette now
Put the cigarette down, I'm the ****, loose bowels
Wow, Laughing, did I say that out loud?
***** getting busy like I work downtown
On to the next if she don't **** right now (right now)
Harder than a pipe, can't pipe down
What you ****** talking about?
Man I'm what your ***** is talking about
Two months then an album out
Careless world drop, pewm, then I'm out.

[Chorus]
Posing, Heisman [x3]

[Honey *******]
If a ***** **** around, I might go off
My advice is you better get down to go
You came to shop at the mall, but I bought the stores
I got a box of jewels, I call it *** of gold
Call the cops to go, as my pockets grow
Get the chains and the rings and the watches, bro
And I boxed a ****, I just boxed a ***
You tryna pass me *****? It ain't possible, nah
Cool as ****, I suggest you dress for the weather *****
Is forever ****, whenever *****
What's a ***** to a queen? Whatever *****!
I crop a kid, it's a hot to ****
Its some Gucci, Louis, fendi, Prada ****
Tell them *******, you ain't not a *****
Find me in the club where my partners is
(Schwagg, B-*****!)

[Chorus]
Posing, Heisman [x3]
(***** I'm The ****)

Your thighs are appletrees
whose blossoms touch the sky.
Which sky?  The sky
where Watteau hung a lady’s
slipper.  Your knees
are a southern breeze—or
a gust of snow.  Agh!  what
sort of man was Fragonard?
—as if that answered
anything.  Ah, yes—below
the knees, since the tune
drops that way, it is
one of those white summer days,
the tall grass of your ankles
flickers upon the shore—
Which shore?—
the sand clings to my lips—
Which shore?
Agh, petals maybe.  How
should I know?
Which shore?  Which shore?
I said petals from an appletree.

Discontentment always be
knock, knock, knock!
On thoracic diaphragm.
All cavities get filled
with emptiness and the brain
It sees this anomaly, does its great job:
"Fill the emptiness!";
Ironically keeping to the heart's shadow.

The blind leading the blind,
blood is boiling up inside.
Voices keep repeating
Same old eulogy
Attendees deserted the ceremony
Muscles convulse
One last waking breathe
"Wake up!"

As if this some dream before
The the soul floats above, observing life.
The tangibleness of time:
<Fear>
              <sadness>
<anger>                  <surprise>
<happiness>          
                        <disgust>; now reprise.

"Take this drug for medicinal purposes."
$Paralyze
               $Numb
                          $Tranquilize
               $Dumb
$Petrified
               $Stump
"Why don't you wake up?!"

One loud shrieking gasp
Ooh-aah!
Heavy pants
Agh
                           Agh
            Agh
"That was a close one..."
The dark matter shifted away.

The brain followed its cue;
What was the discontentment?
It hasn't got a clue.
"I only want more"
Said the voices in the brain
"Of life, that is"

Your thighs are appletrees
whose blossoms touch the sky.
Which sky?  The sky
where Watteau hung a lady’s
slipper.  Your knees
are a southern breeze—or
a gust of snow.  Agh!  what
sort of man was Fragonard?
—as if that answered
anything.  Ah, yes—below
the knees, since the tune
drops that way, it is
one of those white summer days,
the tall grass of your ankles
flickers upon the shore—
Which shore?—
the sand clings to my lips—
Which shore?
Agh, petals maybe.  How
should I know?
Which shore?  Which shore?
I said petals from an appletree.

I'm 100% Fangirl mode right now
I'm not even gonna lie.
They're just both so... so...
******* CUTE AGH I'M DYING!!

The birches are mad with green points
the wood’s edge is burning with their green,
burning, seething—No, no, no.
The birches are opening their leaves one
by one.  Their delicate leaves unfold cold
and separate, one by one.  Slender tassels
hang swaying from the delicate branch tips—
Oh, I cannot say it.  There is no word.
Black is split at once into flowers.  In
every bog and ditch, flares of
small fire, white flowers!—Agh,
the birches are mad, mad with their green.
The world is gone, torn into shreds
with this blessing.  What have I left undone
that I should have undertaken?

O my brother, you redfaced, living man
ignorant, stupid whose feet are upon
this same dirt that I touch—and eat.
We are alone in this terror, alone,
face to face on this road, you and I,
wrapped by this flame!
Let the polished plows stay idle,
their gloss already on the black soil.
But that face of yours—!
Answer me.  I will clutch you. I
will hug you, grip you.  I will poke my face
into your face and force you to see me.
Take me in your arms, tell me the commonest
thing that is in your mind to say,
say anything.  I will understand you—!
It is the madness of the birch leaves opening
cold, one by one.

My rooms will receive me.  But my rooms
are no longer sweet spaces where comfort
is ready to wait on me with its crumbs.
A darkness has brushed them.  The mass
of yellow tulips in the bowl is shrunken.
Every familiar object is changed and dwarfed.
I am shaken, broken against a might
that splits comfort, blows apart
my careful partitions, crushes my house
and leaves me—with shrinking heart
and startled, empty eyes—peering out
into a cold world.

In the spring I would be drunk!  In the spring
I would be drunk and lie forgetting all things.
Your face!  Give me your face, Yang Kue Fei!
your hands, your lips to drink!
Give me your wrists to drink—
I drag you, I am drowned in you, you
overwhelm me!  Drink!
Save me!  The shad bush is in the edge
of the clearing.  The yards in a fury
of lilac blossoms are driving me mad with terror.
Drink and lie forgetting the world.

And coldly the birch leaves are opening one by one.
Coldly I observe them and wait for the end.
And it ends.

everything seems the same
then repeat
I can't express my feelings right
then repeat
I can't even make them look like a poem
then repeat
that's the thing about repetition
then repeat
it seems like it sounds nice
then repeat
but it sounds so ****** and agh

"That is wrong... wait no, that is right "
AGH! stop it society,  let me live life.
let me tell you the definition of society in my eyes
|sə'sāııti|adjective (pl.societies) a giant butcher that cuts freedom and imagination with a knife
To be part of it sometimes feels like you live a lie
and the only time you notice is when you die


Let us who are "different" rise and be the difference
change the mindset for our generation and our children.
because all change in the mindset ,starts within
let the rise of the Minority, begin...

With you.

6 months
23 different treatments
15 different medicines
nothing, nada, nope, no results.

The pain in my head
is not one I'd ever wish on anyone,
not even my worst enemy.

A migraine
every second
of
every day
even while sleeping
is something no one should endure

I dream about headaches... is that weird?

ouch. agh. ugh.
it's been 6 months, non-stop of people saying:
"time is the best medicine"
"don't lose hope"
"you're young, young minds heal fast."
but my favorite:
"Laila, I promise, you'll be better in a week"

Well doc, it's been 23 weeks, what's up?

honestly,
it's now a joking matter.
one of which I laugh with my friends about
I laugh at the fact that I don't remember 95% of the last 6 months
Not because I find it humorous
but because I've been given 23 different "Laila, I'm telling you this "insert treatment here" will work! It works for 99% of the people that do it."

I am the 1%
ha.
actually, I'm in the .25% of teens still experiencing concussion- related symptoms after 6 months of the hit.
Yay for minorities!

and now,
get this,
my treatment
after spending thousands on hyperbaric chambers, freaky boulderite "healing gods", gag-worthy chinese herbs
is yoga.

Talk to me about indifference
Can anyone define it? Who defines ?
It’s a word we should understand clearly and fluently
Why? Well…Why not?
Because as humans, indifference is valued
Prized even
Genocide in Africa? I’m indifferent
Pity…
Poverty in our country? I’m indifferent
Pity…
Indifferent it is a word we should use so much more than we do
Indifferent to the screaming of my next door neighbours wife
Pity           …
OH Indifferent!  INDIFFERENT to the hallowed call of a child at the 6 o’clock news with a swollen belly and flies in his eyes
PITTY!
Indifferent to the passions of a man foresworn to his pride and under the influence refuses to admit to his shame!
BY GODS IM A ROBOT
Remove my emotional hardware its malfunctioning strip me of my programs their not the normal
Remove my speech circuitry I’ve been lying…
This hole time I swore closeness and collaboration..
Ideals you all share, seeing pain, listing to the agonising news off a car bomb in Syria! 118 dead! Thank god ill never meet them!
Did I know them? No? ! Well ill share a moment of agony and grief and then continue to buy slave made products and feed my mechanicals beasts with petroleum stolen from foreign lands !
I AM A ROBOT AND YOU ARE TO
Devour my heart it no longer beats, my eyes are desensitized, my spirit aghast at the agony of existing,
The high price of living I was told,
Stand fast and ready your ears like a galleon with no sails and receive the news of your defeat , or would you rather not be there to hear it?
It’s time to listen to the high price,
Social media seems to have developed unto me a craze for the worst ! ive liked pages that post videos of people killing themselves death fascinates me!
I have all of my needs catered for,  
have sources of entertainment
I have a job that allows me  to pillage part of the earth for my enjoyment
I have food that sustains me  and a group of robots that  I call friends, we share the same software  I can relate to them  via USB
And thus the only thing that excites me…that gets me going, that shakes my distraught existence is the thought of..not.
Of not existing
Indifferent..
Endure the agony of hearing that our own… brothers and sisters in humanity where killed,
Beings we share the same DNA for and beings we by some estranged number of generations are related to
Pretend to care for a moment
Indifference,
Watch my world ware thin
Watch my skin grow pale
Watch my organs fail
Indifferent.
Watch cancer take my loved ones
Watch fear destroy my hope
Alone I stand indifferent


Take me to emotion

This is not the way I was designed
The dull thud in my chest is not of rifle fire
Nor is it requisition of my life force of some higher being calling me home
No
It is the device that fights my indifference
It is the vessel that commands my soul to walk on broken glass
The dull thud It is the idea that in ideas we will never die , only grow as humans, within humanity
The dull thud ringing through my chest quickens  when I see you,
The dull thud dies down when I grow cold
It is not the pilot aimlessly guiding me through coordinates listed on a fact sheet like a tour guide
But it is the engine that drives me to aspire to be more, the location from witch I draw force, power,
I do not want to be a robot...  I never asked to be made of steel nor carbon nor sparks
An emotionless vessel to power through indignity and anxiety without a notion to an outsider,
Without consideration to feel
Without consideration to feel alive But sick…steel skin does not get ill without strain,
Steel skin does not grow pale or wither with age
The computer in my head will not fade with time
And my heart has never once stopped
I am not of robotics
I am not of steel
I am merely…
human
And I
Am not
Indifferent!
Scream to me the agony! AGH!  Genocide in Africa?  I will denounce myself to humanitarian work!
I will design my life to bring happiness and joy and inspiration to the masses! I will re-write the ground on which I stand in favour of my own desires!
Poverty in my country?! I will rise to be what is needed! And fall to be humbled!  I will writhe with angst until the government I serve hears my cries and writhes also! To change those laws written in stone and redefine what it is to be human! I will cry for every child living like a dog under the stars, under-influence and angry, because I am angry to!
The cries of my neighbor will be brought to append in front of a judge my community will whale together in her agony and burst forth with our love! we will provide! We will carry her down the streets and sing her name she is not a beaten dog but a queen of queens! As we deserve it!
I AM NOT INDIFFERENT
I am not of the programming I was designed,
Nor am I to append the functions I was written for
I am an arm that writes itself hole as it continues down the page..
I am not of machine
I am not guided by that actions of others
But I am the wholeness of myself
Though fractured I am pure,
Though ***** I am clean
Though broken I am definitively joyful.
I am not indifferent, and I will forever refuse to be so
Because if you take away my indifference…you bring me back
You will bring me back…to my humanity,

*L.G

Tracks of rain and light linger in
the spongy greens of a nature whose
flickering mountain—bulging nearer,
ebbing back into the sun
hollowing itself away to hold a lake,—
or brown stream rising and falling at the roadside, turning about,
churning itself white, drawing
green in over it,—plunging glassy funnels
fall—

And—the other world—
the windshield a blunt barrier:
Talk to me.  Sh! they would hear us.
—the backs of their heads facing us—
The stream continues its motion of
a hound running over rough ground.

Trees vanish—reappear—vanish:
detached dance of gnomes—as a talk
dodging remarks, glows and fades.
—The unseen power of words—
And now that a few of the moves
are clear the first desire is
to fling oneself out at the side into
the other dance, to other music.

Peer Gynt.  Rip Van Winkle.  Diana.
If I were young I would try a new alignment—
alight nimbly from the car, Good-bye!—
Childhood companions linked two and two
criss-cross:  four, three, two, one.
Back into self, tentacles withdrawn.
Feel about in warm self-flesh.
Since childhood, since childhood!
Childhood is a toad in the garden, a
happy toad.  All toads are happy
and belong in gardens.  A toad to Diana!

Lean forward.  Punch the steerman
behind the ear.  Twirl the wheel!
Over the edge!  Screams!  Crash!
The end.  I sit above my head—
a little removed—or
a thin wash of rain on the roadway
—I am never afraid when he is driving,—
interposes new direction,
rides us sidewise, unforseen
into the ditch!  All threads cut!
Death!  Black.  The end.  The very end—

I would sit separate weighing a
small red handful:  the dirt of these parts,
sliding mists sheeting the alders
against the touch of fingers creeping
to mine.  All stuff of the blind emotions.
But—stirred, the eye seizes
for the first time—The eye awake!—
anything, a dirt bank with green stars
of scrawny **** flattened upon it under
a weight of air—For the first time!—
or a yawning depth:  Big!
Swim around in it, through it—
all directions and find
vitreous seawater stuff—
God how I love you!—or, as I say,
a plunge into the ditch.  The End.  I sit
examining my red handful.  Balancing
—this—in and out—agh.

Love you?  It’s
a fire in the blood, *****-nilly!
It’s the sun coming up in the morning.
Ha, but it’s the grey moon too, already up
in the morning.  You are slow.
Men are not friends where it concerns
a woman?  Fighters.  Playfellows.
White round thighs!  Youth!  Sighs—!
It’s the fillip of novelty.  It’s—

Mountains.  Elephants ******* along
against the sky—indifferent to
light withdrawing its tattered shreds,
worn out with embraces.  It’s
the fillip of novelty.  It’s a fire in the blood.

Oh get a flannel shirt, white flannel
or pongee.  You’d look so well!
I married you because I liked your nose.
I wanted you!  I wanted you
in spite of all they’d say—

Rain and light, mountain and rain,
rain and river.  Will you love me always?
—A car overturned and two crushed bodies
under it.—Always!  Always!
And the white moon already up.
White.  Clean.  All the colors.
A good head, backed by the eye—awake!
backed by the emotions—blind—
River and mountain, light and rain—or
rain, rock, light, trees—divided:
rain-light counter rocks-trees or
trees counter rain-light-rocks or—

Myriads of counter processions
crossing and recrossing, regaining
the advantage, buying here, selling there
—You are sold cheap everywhere in town!—
lingering, touching fingers, withdrawing
gathering forces into blares, hummocks,
peaks and rivers—rivers meeting rock
—I wish that you were lying there dead
and I sitting here beside you.—
It’s the grey moon—over and over.
It’s the clay of these parts.

She's going to make it
Lost a lot of blood...
****!
High alcohol level
Ten minutes away
She's okay, she's okay
Losing her fast
She's gonna make it!
————————————
My head is reeling
Dear god, the world is on it's back
Please,
Stop panicking— it's only blood
No, I don't want an IV
It's okay, I'm okay
Don't give me an IV
Don't touch me, I said no!
agh!


Fears digress to slurred vocabulary
Over and over
"Am I broke? Am I broke now?"

The birches are mad with green points
the wood’s edge is burning with their green,
burning, seething—No, no, no.
The birches are opening their leaves one
by one.  Their delicate leaves unfold cold
and separate, one by one.  Slender tassels
hang swaying from the delicate branch tips—
Oh, I cannot say it.  There is no word.
Black is split at once into flowers.  In
every bog and ditch, flares of
small fire, white flowers!—Agh,
the birches are mad, mad with their green.
The world is gone, torn into shreds
with this blessing.  What have I left undone
that I should have undertaken?

O my brother, you redfaced, living man
ignorant, stupid whose feet are upon
this same dirt that I touch—and eat.
We are alone in this terror, alone,
face to face on this road, you and I,
wrapped by this flame!
Let the polished plows stay idle,
their gloss already on the black soil.
But that face of yours—!
Answer me.  I will clutch you. I
will hug you, grip you.  I will poke my face
into your face and force you to see me.
Take me in your arms, tell me the commonest
thing that is in your mind to say,
say anything.  I will understand you—!
It is the madness of the birch leaves opening
cold, one by one.

My rooms will receive me.  But my rooms
are no longer sweet spaces where comfort
is ready to wait on me with its crumbs.
A darkness has brushed them.  The mass
of yellow tulips in the bowl is shrunken.
Every familiar object is changed and dwarfed.
I am shaken, broken against a might
that splits comfort, blows apart
my careful partitions, crushes my house
and leaves me—with shrinking heart
and startled, empty eyes—peering out
into a cold world.

In the spring I would be drunk!  In the spring
I would be drunk and lie forgetting all things.
Your face!  Give me your face, Yang Kue Fei!
your hands, your lips to drink!
Give me your wrists to drink—
I drag you, I am drowned in you, you
overwhelm me!  Drink!
Save me!  The shad bush is in the edge
of the clearing.  The yards in a fury
of lilac blossoms are driving me mad with terror.
Drink and lie forgetting the world.

And coldly the birch leaves are opening one by one.
Coldly I observe them and wait for the end.
And it ends.

Tracks of rain and light linger in
the spongy greens of a nature whose
flickering mountain—bulging nearer,
ebbing back into the sun
hollowing itself away to hold a lake,—
or brown stream rising and falling at the roadside, turning about,
churning itself white, drawing
green in over it,—plunging glassy funnels
fall—

And—the other world—
the windshield a blunt barrier:
Talk to me.  Sh! they would hear us.
—the backs of their heads facing us—
The stream continues its motion of
a hound running over rough ground.

Trees vanish—reappear—vanish:
detached dance of gnomes—as a talk
dodging remarks, glows and fades.
—The unseen power of words—
And now that a few of the moves
are clear the first desire is
to fling oneself out at the side into
the other dance, to other music.

Peer Gynt.  Rip Van Winkle.  Diana.
If I were young I would try a new alignment—
alight nimbly from the car, Good-bye!—
Childhood companions linked two and two
criss-cross:  four, three, two, one.
Back into self, tentacles withdrawn.
Feel about in warm self-flesh.
Since childhood, since childhood!
Childhood is a toad in the garden, a
happy toad.  All toads are happy
and belong in gardens.  A toad to Diana!

Lean forward.  Punch the steerman
behind the ear.  Twirl the wheel!
Over the edge!  Screams!  Crash!
The end.  I sit above my head—
a little removed—or
a thin wash of rain on the roadway
—I am never afraid when he is driving,—
interposes new direction,
rides us sidewise, unforseen
into the ditch!  All threads cut!
Death!  Black.  The end.  The very end—

I would sit separate weighing a
small red handful:  the dirt of these parts,
sliding mists sheeting the alders
against the touch of fingers creeping
to mine.  All stuff of the blind emotions.
But—stirred, the eye seizes
for the first time—The eye awake!—
anything, a dirt bank with green stars
of scrawny **** flattened upon it under
a weight of air—For the first time!—
or a yawning depth:  Big!
Swim around in it, through it—
all directions and find
vitreous seawater stuff—
God how I love you!—or, as I say,
a plunge into the ditch.  The End.  I sit
examining my red handful.  Balancing
—this—in and out—agh.

Love you?  It’s
a fire in the blood, *****-nilly!
It’s the sun coming up in the morning.
Ha, but it’s the grey moon too, already up
in the morning.  You are slow.
Men are not friends where it concerns
a woman?  Fighters.  Playfellows.
White round thighs!  Youth!  Sighs—!
It’s the fillip of novelty.  It’s—

Mountains.  Elephants ******* along
against the sky—indifferent to
light withdrawing its tattered shreds,
worn out with embraces.  It’s
the fillip of novelty.  It’s a fire in the blood.

Oh get a flannel shirt, white flannel
or pongee.  You’d look so well!
I married you because I liked your nose.
I wanted you!  I wanted you
in spite of all they’d say—

Rain and light, mountain and rain,
rain and river.  Will you love me always?
—A car overturned and two crushed bodies
under it.—Always!  Always!
And the white moon already up.
White.  Clean.  All the colors.
A good head, backed by the eye—awake!
backed by the emotions—blind—
River and mountain, light and rain—or
rain, rock, light, trees—divided:
rain-light counter rocks-trees or
trees counter rain-light-rocks or—

Myriads of counter processions
crossing and recrossing, regaining
the advantage, buying here, selling there
—You are sold cheap everywhere in town!—
lingering, touching fingers, withdrawing
gathering forces into blares, hummocks,
peaks and rivers—rivers meeting rock
—I wish that you were lying there dead
and I sitting here beside you.—
It’s the grey moon—over and over.
It’s the clay of these parts.

relentless
(not a word in Spanish)
te quiero
with earth and arms
spinning like the words
mumbles in my head
poetry is inherently egotistical
as if reading what hurts
my heart.yourheart.hisheart.
will cure anything

tsk tsk asterisk
        chk chk clap blam boom

sik click arsonic
         grip glap drap gloom

wix wax anthrax
               hop leap woosh slam

sip spike archetype
               cough crash anagram

hark bark blue monarch
            wrapped in a summer's day

tick tack heart attack
            passing the cabaret


she used to say words like
            bump, beep, buzz

until flutter fizz crunch chirp
            fell beams of a truss

and tenderly did hum zap sing
            in little vrooms and snags

did she meet unfortunate ends
           woof, crack, thud, down crags


shimmer shingles whisper dust
ugh, agh, yawn, sigh!
her eye sockets gathered such beautiful rust
and did crunch clink, flick and eek
to crack the numbing morning moon
but break, snap, bash, sink
into the hyphenated royal lagoon.

Tick-tock, tick-tock
The clock is ticking
Time is running out.

I stand here with a black robe and a scythe
Watching her battling her own demons
Crying but not shedding a tear
As I await to feed on another soul
She awaits to seek comfort in my arms.

There she stands
With arms wide open to embrace me
With a stool underneath her feet
And a rope around her neck
Agh...the cliched way of quitting
Disappointing me as there was no surprise.

The nooze...
Not so choking as her parent's expectations
Or those comments she got for those extra pounds
Not so suffocating as his kiss had left her
Or that bottle of beer and pack of cigarettes
That felt too strangling to let go of

I stand here watching her
Covered in wounds she did to herself
Seemed like her body was her canvas
Every scar, wound, bruise and cut
Had a story of it's own to narrate.

I see her struggling against her own mind
Crumbling down with each thought
I see it all in her dark deep eyes
Deep yet everything seemed eerily hollow
Those eyes showed no sign of regret
Not a hint of reluctance.

No! she wasn't weak, just tired...

And so I ask
How far do you think she's willing to go
I had my answer

As she kicked the stool and also her life
Pushing away the last bit of hope
The rope around her neck grew tighter
Her lips curled slightly
Into a hauntingly charming smile
Life flashed in front of her eyes
As she thought she could escape it all..

Tick- tock tic-hush!!....

You are encased in your world of flower;
Whilst I suffer in the pit below
that wolf at the door is me.

He is the leader of my pack
and when he howls others follow in tick tack
tight formation, his howl has rendered cowards
to fits of madness, coward!

I am that too he says? hahaha!
A fit of vortex light burning brightly over there, you fool!
Screams the wolf,
'you do not know the box you have opened!'

'I do!'
I have opened the post it says sickness and fit,
a spice awakening in Sheffield, and not just the drugs
not working in Manchester,
as Ashcroft once sang banging his shoulders
into every passer by, why? For the hell of it,
take no prisoners, proper Manc wolf style.

And I will burn your souls with words, O burn those bridges burn;
I will crush you with every click of the typewriter
you seek to burn me, call me drunk and ****** and fool,
I forget you! ha! Neit papa! Neit Mama!

Da Christopher! I have made such art and wonders
so see I am not to be taken lightly.
I have danced with death, not once but twice
and lived to tell the tale, captured foes forever
their grimaces frozen in time.

In the dead of night when I have no desire
for both shallow words and drunken wounds and late night calling-
your 'fatal fallacies'
I will burn these images and all the old
word scribbled in spider handwriting
by me that eldest poet, and soul.
That fire shall bring solace.

I hate you, as much as I hate myself;
forever smoking in the corner
and laughing at deaths wings,
as it winks at me underneath
cloaked eyes of shallow indifference -

Off with you and your 'perfect' life too.
Bitter wolf blinks, and cannot sleep,
Oh look how I am red and rendered, insomnia
red eyed and twitching, shocks all over sighs the poet,
Never call me again, drunken witches. Vampires
and bloodsuckers.

Alive still and struggling against the call
of it. Defiantly myself, whilst others crawl
to the windowpane of the widows to cradle the light.
I am encased in darkness, and search for my window-
fools allay me from my path, winding, twisting to
love.

I am burning. This fire it will not cease, this is
the end. My first friend, thrown to the fire,
her fate is sealed, she is undoubtedly married.

My pack is pleased, and giggle in the night,
drunk on the strength of passion! and *****!
ACC WOO AGH
Nein Nein Nein
Neit! Da! Da!

I grin through bared teeth,
Always gnashing and grinding.

For give me mothers if I take another son away
The ***** shouldn't a tested if my ****** wouldn't spray the K
2 the face
2 the point
Hollows in yo temple *****
Leave 2 dents in yo face like some dimples *****
+
Ugh
+
The devil told me that I'm coldblooded
Semi stoic look on my face n these hoes love it
Ain't got it on me when they shoot imma road run it
Never put trust n no ***** cuz these hoes covet
+
Ugh
+
Im like the black mclovin
Wit a wrap sheet 4 days
Tell yo mans cuz he shovin
N if low keep pushing imma have 2 start bussin
'Nother dumb ***** dead in the streets over nothing
Agh
+
My mama say that idk about the struggle but she don't know half if the **** a ***** toggle wit
+
She only know about a 5th of the **** I did
+
N if she knew me she would call me the apocalypse
+
Cuz I done did mo dirt then a Lil bit
+
N if this rapping don't crack imma cop a brick
+
These ****** say they were its at but the fulla ****
+
Cuz we the only mfs really taking risk
+
When I was 17 I ****** a ***** n she was 30
+
They call it statutory **** but I was hella flirty
+
I know some ****** out south that'll do u *****
+
Razor blade 2 yo face like that ***** birdie
+
Ugh
+
I gotcho sis on my lap
N yo fix in a sack
Text books on my back
Imma lowlife pirate I ain't even gotta act
N my ****** on attack
Lowlife just relax
Ugh
1+2

N I mean that ****
I was blind 2 it all now I c that ****
Imma show u mufuckaz that u can get rich
If yo friends turn 2 opps n yo main chick flip
Ugh
+

La interminable vision de un buen futuro me alimenta mi sol. Mis manos ramas crecen para alcanzar más bellas palabras que aún no eh leído.

Walking in the dark like he often did so gracefully attaching himself to the books of his library like the grass to the damp earth. His mistakes of the day agitated him slightly he had himself a meal and the reddest wine he could smell, his hands were mist from the hotness of the room, he waited for his cat to appear out of thin air, an apparition of the mind. Grabbing his almost finished bottle, he stepped into the middle of the kitchen looking at the window he felt something move then twitched his eyes to the floor owl manuvering them he saw albert his Abby cat, he seemed tired awakened dizzinly from a long eternal nap, staring at him asking for food without words. He felt his heart broken everytime albert gave him that stare. How can a cat be so mystical he asked but did not get a response from the shadows of the room or the cat either. He was a writer and needed his space to stretch the mind and inhale air exhaling the words into the page, that made him breath better, words of silence teaching the readers of new ages. His wife had died years ago in the war of love against a nasty disease. He loved her but in his separated way, touching her but not really there. The day was Tuesday and the meeting of his writer friends was tomorrow he had to get something down by the morning. To his adored cat a sphinx on the deserted table and his manuscript layed, both object half touched by the shadows and the afternoon light. Where did she to I wonder speaking in his lowered voice, she must have agh forget it Walt you think to much, so he made the efort and moved closer to the machine that allowed him to write his words in silence just the pressing of the keys spokes and he liked it felt like home.

Agh, get out of bed
You stupid girl, you'll be late
And you need a bath.

He called me up at midnight monday
Talking to me like we have met in another life
telling me how he wants me to be his future wife
telling me about all the trouble he is going through
telling me about his secrets that I never knew

I never gave him a penny of my love
and he got attached
he doesn't really know me and he got attached
to the mystery of me created by his mind
he got attached to his own solution to his own issues
Giving his own thoughts a name that happens to be mine

but the truth is if he ever listened or took the time to know me
he wouldn't be soo attached
like all the people I opened up to
gave my heart to and they threw it in the trash
If he knew how I laugh like a monkey
and how my lungs are burned like ash
how I wouldn't fit his thoughts at alll
how I'm insecure
how I'm never  sure about anything
how I overdose on everything
how I'm messy and irresponsible
how I can never tell a full story
how I can never flirt
how easily I'm open to getting hurt
how clumsy, weird and awkward I am
I told'm
agh I swear I'm not that interesting
atleast not to someone like you

but that intrigued him more
And he was tipsy
he said you will miss me when I'm gone
I told him we are not on the same page at allll

He said tell me one thing
do you love me
and I said no
he said you do cause your still talking to me
and I felt like I wanted to slap some sense into him
I really don't want to hurt you
but where your mind is talking you
I swear it's not true
but he didn't listen
he didn't call to listen

he called to give in to his thoughts
he couldn't let it go
his thoughts he gave my name
Not me
but to him it's all the same
And that's when it got lame

he said I want you
and I almost screamed
I don't want you !
hung up

And now
I'm sorry It had to be that way

The feeling of dancing around to no music is strong.
The feeling of wanting to draw a weird monster is strong.
Agh!
I sound like a bird?
Caw caw caw
Painting someone's face is making my fingers twitch with happiness, they asked for a tiger, I'm making them a fish.
Why not?
The feeling of digging my toes under my mattress is not the same as the sand, but close.
My fingers fly against the keys on my piano, closing my eyes I smile, it's ugly the music I'm trying to make, it doesn't make sense, but it does.
The feelings of cooking toasts and spaghetti, people wonder why, I say why not?
The world behind closed doors is colorful and amazingly vivid. Shiny and soft and beautiful, once someone sees it, the beauty stops, it's the rooms secret.
The feeling of making love to you're one.
In your dream.
The feeling of acting on purpose I see how others react
The feeling of creating chaos in the house.
My inside twist and turn and eyes glaze over.
Happiness hasn't touched me completely, but I'm trying.

I think I am smart
I am good for art
I should go before a mirror!

Many times look
Turning and turning
Around and once again

I am content
I must be a spice
To make it a day!

I thought !
One,two ....thousand ,million
Agh!

Is it the call I received?!
The cite I visited?!
I was worried.

"Hey son,
Fear not,
It is the science of reflection ,
The mirror before you
Is broken!

My day was ruined!

Light
Calling always ve
Communion Clad agh
I's took The Plate Forwarnwd
My Mountain
I Did See
Her Voice
My Guidance clearly Spoken
No Other ash Shall Have Her Bold
For You To Offwr Thee
No Tres
This One
The Earth
Shall Not Be Sold

Nothing stays forever and I'm sick and tired of putting so much effort in trying to weaver our emotions into connections so I can wear our relationship happily knowing that it will get old and it will get cut and it will smell and I won't want to wear it any more.

and now whenever I'm high all I can see is the fall

I can see you becomig busy with others while I find myself some others because I'll be the one you talk to others about saying " ahh l don't feel like doing the effort to hang with her " that is if you still remember me by then .

nothing stays forever

I expect that you won't like me , like I won't like you forever. I expect life to take you away and for me and you to stray but not together.

Because

nothing stays forever

It's so sad that nothing stays forever , but I can't change it , you can't change it , we must understand the reason behind it.
But at the moment I'm just swamped in a pool of feelings behind it.
Reason and logic are upstairs in the lobby drinking some tea it's hot and I like swimming so I don't see myself going to meet them anytime soon I might just drown in this pool.
And never meet my reason and logic .

funny thing is you walk around my pool but you're never in it .
And I'm weaving in a pool and the strings are getting wet and its soo hard and your not helping your just there tanning chilling and the world does not revolve around us.

Agh these thoughts are killing ...

But I'm going down this road whether it's fast or slow we are ganna go .
And I don't even know anymore

Out pops the spirit
and out pops
BOO!
EEK! you shriek, you turn and run away.

Out pops the witch
and out pops a
CACKLE!
AGH! you scream, you turn and run away.

Out pops a vampire
and out pops a
HISS!
OOOOH! you yell, you turn and run away.

Out pops a ghoul,
and out pops a
GRARR!
NOOO! you cry, you turn and run away.

Here comes Halloween,
and out pop the scares
YIIPES! we all scream, we all turn and say
TRICK OR TREAT!

fingers moving
eyes tracking
calm down
agh nerves
over stimulation.

well it happens slowly, like falling asleep. you meet someone, somewhere, doesn't matter exactly who or the details, but. they just peak your interest. you find yourself drawn to them, wanting to know them, even just at the sight of their being; the way they do their hair, the way they smell, the position they're standing, their smile, etc. and when you talk to them, it just so happens to be even better, and although you perhaps don't notice it at first, you soon discover, maybe in days, weeks, months, who knows... but you discover that they're different. special. from the way they talk about their perspective of life, to the way their face lights up when they're just rambling about something they're ever so passionate about, even to the way they tell you goodmorning/goodnight. you'll discover yourself excited to hear back from them, ecstatic when they text you back, overjoyed when you hear their voice, and your heart will throb as you see their face; it'll be like you're seeing them for the very first time, in an even better light, and your heart will beat faster, and your breath will be taken aback, and you will feel your hands getting clammy as you try to think of something really good to respond with, something to brighten their face again because oh, you cherish that smile, the way their nose crinkles up when they laugh, all the itty bitty things. you adore them wholeheartedly. and when you realize how mad you are for them, because at first you may not even think of it as love, you might just think you're acting normal, that need to talk to them all the time? that burning feeling inside when you see them meeting other people? the way you never wanna let go when their arms are wrapped around you, and you feel as if you just stepped onto cloud nine and are soaring high? then suddenly, it hits you. at some point in time, you finally get a wave of reality; you're in love. you have fallen into love, the deep, dark hole you will struggle to climb out of, and ****, you. you never meant for this to happen, you never meant to let yourself fall for those blue eyes, the way they complimented you all the time, the way she made you laugh, the way he got your sense of humour. everything they did, that you loved so much. you never meant for this to happen! you'll then find yourself worrying constantly: am i being obvious? are they flirting? am i being flirty? what if they already know? why aren't they replying fast like usual? i swear they're usually on at this time, what if they're ignoring me? come backkkkk, hurry up, yes, respond, thank you, finally! stop being so cute, ****. oh my goodness, you need to just stop, like right now. why am i smiling so much, agh. you get me too **** much. all of the above may or may not happen, at least a couple of them. you're in love, you're crushing hard, you can put it however you want... it's happening. and the universe can't wait forever for you to do something about it, cause you either act upon it, or you live with waiting too long, and watching them find another pair of eyes to fall for as well. you live with not knowing whether their feelings were the same. you live with that awful, painful stinging feeling in your chest as they walk away, with someone else's hand holding theirs. you live with having to hold back something from someone you never had to hold back anything from. or you tell them, you confess your feelings, and you deal with the fact that yes; the worse thing they could possibly say, is no, i don't feel the same way. and maybe it gets awkward, maybe it doesn't. maybe you cry for a whole week at night before you go to bed, maybe you can't even look at them the same. but you know what? what if you don't? what if they feel the same way, and they don't hold back, you get to hold them and call them yours and everything feels perfect. love is a guessing game. love is beyond your control. love is pain, and jealousy, and tears, but it is also, and most purely; butterflies, smiles, laughter, acceptance, genuine, and true.

love is love; an extraordinary experience.