you know those hills
that you take with
your car
and it sends your
guts into your heart?

yeah, i wanna
live life
like that.

Peeling away layer by layer, I'm slowly becoming whole.
Wrapper after wrapper- will someone eat my candy heart when there's nothing left to hide it?
I'm so exposed, so open; the breeze wafts between layers, shaking them loose, and they waft to the ground like leaves.
Will this edifice be strong enough to stand on its own?
Built out of feeble candy cigarettes and held together by pink bubble gum, it's already been chewed up and spit out, more wrappings being formed to protect its' already collapsing structure.
Will it survive?
Will I survive?
**Chomp.

Dearest:

If I could touch you just once, then I'd be whole, I swear.
Sitting here letting youtube shuffle like the muddled thoughts within my mind, you're all that won't dissipate into thin air.
All Time Low, then church tomorrow morning, why won't you leave?
Are you lonely?
Do you need someplace to stay for a while?
Well, my arms and ears are open. Stay here a while.
Rest.
Everyone says "shes an invalid" and "she needs help", but I know it's not true.
Because if she feels half what I feel, all she needs is me.
And I need her more than the breaths I take, the words I write, and the ideas I spout.
One day, we'll be together again, angel, angel, angel. My angel.
My one and only angel.
And I can't wait for the day I can roll over in this same bed where we kissed and see your sleeping eyelashes fluttering admist your sleeping sighs.
I won't be doing much sleeping.
I promise.

I was the lock and she was the key.
She opened me up and beautified me.

How is it that living can so easily be mistaken for sleeping? Like, I could be dreaming all this right now and wake up to my words flying off the screen and into an oblivion lit with only the red of eyes of monsters ready to eat me up at a second glance. But maybe not. Maybe we're all living a digital life that we'll one day just digitize away from because we ran out of power. Sometimes I wish I knew how to pull the plug.

Harder than ice, I believe
Stricter than the Amish
Colder than the Artic, I say...

You can weave your best iron together but it takes
little but a rainbow glint from my eyes to see through it.

I know you, best not to say so. I know more than I let on.
I know, I know.

So weave your titanium shield and hope for the best,
and I'll sit here harvesting rainbows and waiting for a sign, a break.

Perhaps one will never come.