i am stuck in a
tangerine dream.
a breath of fresh air
or just air
that seems fresh
to me.

red face
quilled with ice cold
water.

there is only beauty
between the cracks
of contrast.

//

i cant call myself
a poet
if i dont tell you
that her lips
look soft.

they could heal me
like a bandaid
and hurt just as much
to peel off.

it doesnt feel like
virginia yet.
maybe only
vermont
or conneticut.

but im ready
to go home
if home feels
like it used to.

As far as I remember
You came in a dream
Washing your blonde hair
Causing quite a scene.

No words left to swallow
No swords left to fall on
I thought you looked nice
But what the hell do I know right.

Cold september evening
Under friday night lights.
A family affair
A quiet kiss goodnight.

A bullet through my stomach
Coming through my spine.
Feeling dead as air.
Feeling cold as ice.

Never learnt my lesson
Not sure what it was
What I was supposed to learn
What I should overcome.

Anytime I’m anywhere
I always see the same
Pictures on the wall.
Things I gotta take

And I’d beg for your forgiveness
If I was certain I was wrong.
But somewhere in these pages
Is my secret siren song

All that I have
Is all that I shared
I pray someday you hear this
I pray someday you care

I know it can’t be me
I think I understand
How I could love a girl
And how she could **** a man.

love and guilt
are different cars
on the same highway