She doesn't realize what happens when her eyes make contact with the small black dot that is her front facing camera on her iPhone.
She doesn't.

It's like a chemical reaction, the shivers that fizz through my being and emanate into a smile across my lips as it's suddenly gone, only a simmering memory that I have to grapple with to keep it from receding into the file cabinets inside my dusty, cobwebbed brain.

She doesn't realize what the combination of warm eyes, warm hair, and warm heart can do through a slanted lens of glass.
She doesn't.

But I can't be the one to tell her that.

She wore gloves,
long, cotton swan's necks
which she stole from the
fields outside Baltimore,
plucked from the brown
fingers that wore the soil to dust.

She wore gloves,
a white pretense of elegance,
to hide her dainty,
fingers of a lady
who had never labored a day in her life.
Or so he supposed.

She wore gloves,
he'd soon discover,
to masque the bleeding
from nights spent battling
a linguistic war
with her old typewriter.

She wore gloves,
white lies that they were,
to protect her only valuables
from being taken from her
or doomed to the fate
of being held in another's.

She wore gloves,
never took them off,
as her one and only disguise.
For who would publish
lofty, luxurious paragraphs
when tainted by the pronoun her?

not gonna ask you to stay
not gonna wait for an explanation
don't know if i should leave or love or cry
won't sit and play little games
won't hurt and take all the blame
don't know, so i'll keep screaming at the sky
if love was a myth then it's all just pretend
so i'm shooting at the stars
cause it's not gonna end

show her all my words.
complain that i've really outdone myself this time, that i've officially broken you into a thousand pieces.
but you know that it isn't me and that as much as the past attributed to so much of the anxiety i feel on a daily basis in so many parts of my life that i feel defective and sometimes want to die because of, i bear you and no one else no ill will.
but i don't doubt that by now all my words and all my truth have been passed on to her screen, and that you feel i'm out to get you.
i'm doing what i should've done a long time ago, protecting myself and my happiness.
i won't let you, unable to let go of something that happened in the past and ended for good reason, tear me up over something that any unselfish person would let go of for the sake of the sanity of those others involved.
i won't let my anxiety and insecurities, half of which are caused by you, ruin my relationship.
i won't let this rule my life.
and you shouldn't either. it isn't healthy. and i'm nice enough to not feel the need to constantly be depressed and upset and blame you or myself about what happened. because i'm actively trying to fix things and move on in as healthy a way as i can.
so tell her, show her all my words if that will console your conscience. i don't care. i lost her because of you anyways, but unlike you, we ended on good, civil, and honestly heartwarming terms, and i still check in on her anonymously to make sure shes doing okay. because i know she's not toxic.
i had just hoped at this point you would care enough about you and your acquiantances to make your problems just that; yours, and yours alone.
but show her, if it brings you comfort.
and while you're at it, tell her i say hi, and good luck in college. i know she'll be massively successful, and i believe in her every step of her journey.
and the same goes to you.
just fix yourself.

we all just hide behind the facade of a screen when reality
you're just down the road, really

did you ever stop to wonder what could've become if i hadn't been an idiot, if situations hadn't arisen, if we had all been stronger?

you never realize how crazy growing up is until it slaps you in the face and i wish someone had taught me how to before i had to learn myself
and i wish you had been here to help me through it and so that i could help prepare you so that you didn't have to go through what i did

i still wish i could protect you, even though i know you don't need protection
it's funny, really, how things have changed so much that they've come full circle
and we're back to the people that we were before
and back here

but really, who's to say we haven't been shrews this whole time, who's to say that you haven't totally forgotten? everything was forgiven anyways

but even though i forgive i never forget. not the good times, nor the bad. not the smiles, not the panic attacks, none of it.

so perhaps i'm the most gilded shrew out of all of us
trying to convince myself that i'm gold covered
when i'm really not

i'm sick of being told to forget
        i've forgotten
i'm sick of being admonished for the truth
        i've been truthful
i'm sick of being exhausted after eight hours of sleep
       i've been sleeping
i'm sick of not even beginning to know who I am
       i've lost myself

Meet my words with your own, make me feel something again.
Is it blunt of me to wish
you'd write me a
palace?

Once more, just once.

Write to me, and help me feel.

To which demons it may concern;

You know me. I'm your worst enemy.
I'm the sunshine that breaks your attempts at drowning her.
I'm the flower petals that infiltrate the scent of your rot.

You wish me gone.
I understand.
But understand in turn that is what I wish of you.

You have no right to push her over any cliffs of your choosing.
You have no right to make her feel as worthless as she does.
You have no right to play upon her heartstrings like an overplayed violin.

And if you ever lay a single claw mark upon her skin again, you'll wish you were back in hell.

Because that's way nicer than where I'm gonna send you.

Sincerely,

Hers

...to mingle?
I dunno.

I wish I could unravel
The cords in my head
That electrify my wants and needs
That are never fed

Loneliness is cool
Really, it's fine
It makes you feel free
-he don't miss being mine....

And I can talk
With whomever I choose
Say what I want
With nothing to lose

Ensnare me and take me
Make me forget
And remember that feeling
I'm trying to forget

My mind can travel
Farther than any airplane
Any train
Any Titanic laying waste to thousands of icebergs
Deep pools of liquid twilight
Know my name
I visit briefly
Then am on my way
Broken shards of starlight
Pierced through by the screams of a newborn
I have heard
Seen
All there is
And when the feathery light axe
Begins to fall down
Down
Onto the neck
Of a plasmic colored swan
We will know
All there is
To fear

The watermelon's tears alighted lightly against the bloodstained perfume, and when the steam cleared, light was visible filtering through the fingertips of the victorious battle-bound man with the paper crown. Was this ice and freezing of the tongue to be his reward for the conquest of the wooden palace of Arbol? We would soon see...

Really, just go ahead.

I know you have a way better alternative to spending your time than reading my little scribbles.

I may not reach more than ten viewers.
I might not ever receive a sun.
No one will ever hear my name spoken from the same lips that bequeath honor to the greatest silvertongues of our time.

Who cares?

Writing is, in and of itself, a formula.

One can choose to follow the rules, write what their audience wants to hear and so doing gain the popularity those shallow enough to wallow in their own words seek to gain.

I write because it gives me freedom.
There is independence in these paragraphs. Somewhere admist the commas and the apostrophes, there is meaning that perhaps only I will ever value. But nevertheless, it is there.

So go ahead, read this and move on, not giving it a second glance, a second chance.

Writers- TRUE WRITERS- are used to being rejected. It's our pastime.

Go ahead.

Congratulations to your eyes
and your mind
and your soul
for making the perilous journey
to the end of the ink
staining this page.

You read my words.

And you read me.

Shouldn't nine hours of sleep
Be enough?

Someone's gotta tell me
Why my life's so rough

I used to be able
To play my own games

But now I'm so tired
I've forgotten my own name...

You have me pacified

For now

smiling makes it hard to breathe.
i don't like faking.

smiling makes it hard to breathe...
...when you're the one doing it.

This cigarette within my hand
Is full of black, black ink
It comforts me to understand
Why smoke helps me to think.

Do you know what you desire, she breathed at me.
I do, I said, my breath creating spirits from the whirlwind of my lips over the snowbank.
Tell me*, she muttered, her eyes creating criss crossed laser sections of white fluff beneath us.
Never.

Give your wings some room.
I know you feel like you can't anymore
But you're going to soar.

Tough at first,
and you've fallen before
But you're going to soar.

Life has brought its' challenges,
And you think you've had about enough
You want to keep believing
But the winds are getting rough
Whatever happened to the the little boy whose aspirations flew high?
Or is he just another angelic memory in an empty nighttime sky?

Can't touch the stars, all you see is clouds
One by one, we'll take them down,
down, down, down
Come a little closer, and I'll hold your shaking hands
I won't let you drown,
drown, drown, drown

You're stronger than a river
your wings stretch forever
so we can soar

Let's do this.
Together.

Why can't I
do what's socially unacceptable
with my regular time

But if I claim it's for an experiment
then it's deemed
fine?

I have these little flurries, sometimes.

I tend to feel very introverted, very tired, very unencouraged.

But then a song comes on.

And I am invincible.

What does the beat do to me?
Easy.
It shocks my heart back into rhythm.

What were you going to say
Before my heart got in the way?

Speak to me, someone.

Because God knows she won't

And even if she did

They wouldn't be the words

I want to hear

If my heart knew half of what my head does
It wouldn't be so easy to break

you burned me then were surprised when you choked on my smoke

So it finally happened.

And I'm feeling so philosophical.

So I'll drop this paragraph I'm supposed to purport Toulmin in and instead, drop a beat through pentameter that means nothing like it should.

Those words were spoken in the right order, in the right way, at the right time, when I needed to hear them most. He knew. YOU KNEW. How, I can't exactly be sure. Hell, I don't even know if your conciousness deigns to dwell in the reaches of digital activity where my poetic inner goddess reigns, but I can hope.

If you're reading this....

Tell me.

Yellow congregation
Discusses their front lines
Lawn mower arrives

for shaking hands, i find a prudent remedy
is a rainy day
doctors recommend laying on the pavement
with your back pressed to the ground and
eyes closed, mouth open,
drinking in all the purity the sky
offers you

it is only then, in drowning,
that you will remember how to feel
alive

When I tell you I don't in any way, shape, or form, deserve you, you just smile and kiss my words away till they're nothing but a faded memory in the back of your mind, where they'll soon be forgotten. But not for me. I'd always said you were my saviour, my vice, my distraction; but, perhaps, am I yours? Living the life of a hero, with its' pain, sorrow, and guilt- your doting on me, covering me with sweet words, is this your distracting? You say, then, love is a musical, and we are the actors. But you omit who else ventures onto the stage, beloved. Have you forgotten our old nemesis, Jealousy? She wears jade and loathing, and is the lead soprano. Cloaked in all her majesty, hypnotizing with the voice she sings, you remember her well, as do I. Yet lo, from stage left, enters a dear acquaintance- it is none other than Hope, dear old Hope, donning her tattered rags of lost dreams and wasted words. But all is lost when the orchestra plays, conducted by the one who rules over us all- Fear has come back, placing doubt into our minds, our hearts, our souls. We said once we were intertwined, yet how can we venture to regain that conscious feeling of royal sweetness? It is lost to the stage as the music plays louder and Hope falls to the floor in a scene of tragedy. There is no much more to say- Fear has overtaken me, love. How will our musical end?

Open those eyes, I know they have something to say.

And if you won't open them, I'll open them for you.

it was cold
the sky cried
and inwardly,
i was parallel

but then the warmth
back to front
heart to heart
mind to mind
infiltrated me

lace against heathered grey
with a subtle hint of longing
and an even bigger
overshadowing
of need

not knowing what we wanted
or what we needed
awkwardly standing
as the tears began to cease
inside, outside

standing on sacred ground
for two purposes
lower, pushing forward
upper, pushing back
aligned with ease

it was a perfect fit
still is, to be honest
but the puzzle pieces get lost
in life and in strife
and come together
but once every turn of the days

but when the puzzle is finished
the tears will drench it
the warmth will break it down
and the hearts
for once
will be whole

Dowse me in the spirit of consciousness
until that inner dwelling where I've chanced to hide
is incinerated with the fire of a billion moons

Until I can forget the hurt I've caused
to a sparkling star
a dying planet
and a lovestruck machine.

Grant me the power to hold in my gloved hand
the ashes of the past
and to further crush them
until they can't infiltrate
the filters within my dreams.

And then, pray give me endurance
that I may learn to dance among the constellations
with the grace of a newborn faun,
to fall and to stumble among the comets
and to learn to love
with the disadvantage
or a hurling meteor.

For what good is there
in claiming to know togetherness
when you live
in a
**BLACK
H
                      O
                            
                                
                               ­           L
                                                    ­                                E

How come you didn't tell me
Your lips are equipped
with defibrillators?

Then leave.* Her voice lilted like light on snow, the snow that was fast to fade.
I... My heart beat faster, faster, faster still, and I closed my eyes.
I want. I need. But I....I can't.
Her eyelids fluttered. *Well, as long as you're here...

The boots she wears make not a sound,
Are stealthy in their art
As they trample rudely round
On many a young man's heart.

fire doesn't always burn out.
once it's there, it is always there.
it may not still be roaring, but embers have a way of incinerating you, just at a slower pace.
that's why i always keep a canister of gasoline handy-
you never know when you need to douse yourself to feel alive.

What we shared today wasn't just a hug....

It was a surprise.

I came into those arms expecting a brief enclosure....
And received stone walls that wouldn't let me leave.

Do I like being closed in, do you ask? You think I'm claustrophobic...because I pulled away?

If only there was more time.

Close those stone arms and take me captive.

I wouldn't mind at all.

I don't care what land we end up in.
Narnia, Middle Earth, purgatory....
It doesn't matter to me.
Just hold me.

You came just in time
to see the storm
That weatherman doesn't know the half of it
Sunshine?
*Please

lightning, bright as the sun
etched on eye, and mind
shaking with the thunder
rendered, deaf and blind

clouds, passing on
to the beat of striking shards
and ears, listening fond
as the storm's bright music starts

the darkness always passes
it's always been this way
storms and gales revealing
a newer, brighter day

so sitting on my roof
I sigh and blink, in time
I will no longer be aloof
because in a stormcloud, there is rhyme.

Once you bade me fear not the brew,
but that lightning horse stole me from you.

All I can hear is static
and yet I hear much more...

I hear a voice crying from over the toil and the screaming
of the gray madness that rolls and undulates at my feet.

The storm is coming.

As the wind tosses my hair, impervious to the time I have spent on it,
my very soul emanates from my body and wisps into the air above.

Spiraling around the lighthouse, the light flickering haphazardly,
peeking around the rusty old alarm bell,
it curiously explores
in a time more dangerous than any other it has ever known.

The storm is coming.

The fronds of nearby peasants bow to the gale, afraid,
and their hearts are torn apart by flying shine
that infiltrate even the most secure houses
and happy hearts.

His motorcycle lies on the shoulder of the abandoned beach road,
the left headlight still on,
but he is still
missing.

From the world, from his bike.
From me.

The storm is coming.

Standing upon this rocky throne admist the rain and the thunder,
I feel more alive
than every before.

------
The electricity hits.
-----

It courses through me like a wave of silk,
catching on my edges and riding me like a wave.
My heart lifts, my eyes upend to the skies...

He is here.
Shouts.
Running, slipping, dragging feet.

The storm is here.

Sitting home alone in my striped socks
Swinging my feet back and forth above my bedroom floor
There’s no one but me and my striped socks
Looking down over my bedroom floor.

Mommy died, Daddy went away,
Don’t have any friends that want to play
So I think I’ll build my very own castle today
In the middle of my bedroom floor.

It’s only me and my striped socks
Stacking pillows on my bedroom floor
I’ve found a friend for me in my striped socks
And our playground is my bedroom floor.

Lights out, flashlight on
We’ll keep playing till the break of dawn
Till all the last rays of sunlight are gone
In the windows shining over my bedroom floor.

I became royalty with my striped socks
Built a kingdom on my bedroom floor
Addressed all my subjects and my striped socks
In the dark on my bedroom floor.

So if you ever chance to open my bedroom door,
This is what you’ll find:
A fairy queen in glory on her courtroom floor,
Remembered in no one’s mind.

*She was left alone on the cold asylum floor,
With her striped socks on and far from fine.

When you're sad they never text first
But not surprised

If only I could sing
to make up for the words I just can't say

it filters in
uninvited
unwanted
unneeded
yet sometimes the little wisps wish to escape
but can find no way to find a way
out from between the floating
minefield of dust particles

And so my heart
is dark

White troops
Loose ground and fall back swiftly
Spring sunshine

Is it bad
That I'd prefer your lips
Over anything you could possibly serve me?