We were driving
away from home
the rain pouring down
the windowshield
while we sing along
to our favorite song
as usual, my voice cracked
at the high tones
and the car was filled
with our laughter
then it struck me
that i can be myself around you again
and maybe i learnt to trust again
i knew i will not ever rue that moment
for in those minutes
i realized that no matter
what happens
i will always come back
to you;
and you will welcome me with both
ams open every time
Home is not always a structure
sometimes, you found it in those
moments spent with the ones
who love you as much a you love them.

I wanted to toss
something,
I wanted to feel
your body
like
palm prints
on my windowshield.

Write
"I HATE YOU"
all over me.

I can take it.

I've got thick skin,
but my heart
is shallow;
you could touch
it
before your fingers
grace
the pleather
of my backseat.

I fake it alot.

Some girls think I'm macho as ****,
but really,
at my creamy center
I **** them
like they are splinters.

Just trying to get it out.

So let's back out.

What's a splinter
to a whole human?

Nothing.

Nothing but an irritant
that itches,
when the computer
is on a high-wire
glitch
and these girls climb telephone poles
thinking
they're fixing
me.

When really you've boled
a hole
in everything
and climbing poles
gets them farther
from my core.

i didn't know
that the heart could break in
so many directions at once
a windowshield that started to crack with
just one pebble, but here we are,
still driving
on an uneven road
filled with rocks

there's a heart that beats
underneath my coat, a single heart with
countless beats, a song that lulls and arouses and interrupts--
interrupts the thrumming of the rain against the windowshield, presses pause on a movie that's gone too bland

there's a heart that beats
and eats
away at my coat, and i sleep away the pain and i awake from it, too, yet later it interrupts--
interrupts the predictability of life and breathes in and bleeds out a staccato of Life, a life that is brand
new