I remember when Twitter was
what your heart felt like when falling in love

I remember Pinterest was when you put pushpins on
the map hanging on the wall for where you planed to travel

I remember back when the only Facebook
was Mom's photo album

I remember when Tumblr was
rolling down the hill for fun as a child

I remember when Gay used to mean you were happy
And a Joint was a bad place to be

When I Hooked Up it was usually my stereo
All these newfangled meanings are so confusing to me

Or when Bad really meant Bad
And sick was what you did all over the floor

Now they both seem to mean a good thing
Can anyone tell me what for?

And don't even get me started on Thongs
That we wore on our feet to go to the beach

Now they're used to cover up what?
The rear with a piece of string?

I remember when we did not have to worry
about being politically correct

Or even have to worry about
who we might offend back

I remember back then
we were free to speak our minds

And not have to worry about how
everything would be perceived by society as a whole

I sure do miss back then
But at least I still remember when...

I couldn't make up my mind on who she was. Really,
A premonition? Foreboding an inevitable storm
Or the storm's aftermath;
All dull and vivid juxtaposed in parallel reflection
Yet even though debris seemed to follow the destruction around her,
The centre of all the chaos was calm, grey
I called her Grey
She liked it
She thought it resembled a fading, translucent characteristic within her that most people seemed to miss without confirming a second look
"It’s like you lifted my eye-lids with clamps-long and hard enough to gaze and wonder just who I was"
That the easy facade on her outside was just a complex elaborate hoax and her intricacies were much simpler inside
But even with all my sensors of human emotion detection and learning to wade and blend through
derelict sage-nuances
I still couldn't figure her out
For I wasn't sure what she was:
A premonition or an aftermath of new color.

She was always Grey

Moments like this I don't even care if you love me back. I have so much love spreading through my blood system demanding to come out. I have so much love inside me and if I don't give it away, it bursts my veins open and  gets my chest tight.
Sometimes at four am I think and think and I just want to love, and love so  desperately it hurts more than not loving at all.
I just want to kiss you all the time but I'd conform with loving you though, because I need to love and you're get me all dizzy and high and giddy with your smile. And if you let me just love you right, then I wouldn't be crying at 8:35 in the night with a bunch of emotions bubbling and longing to give and give and give until I had no more to give.

Some days the sky is a glass chalice we hold between our lips to take a sip
The palliative qualities divine in nature are seeping through the subtle splits on the surface of our palms
Fleeting textures suffuse through our quivering hands
Various hues illustrate the wrists as they coil upon the cadaverous structure
Outlining our internal scaffolding with diverse shades
Colours ricochet within our human receptacles
Our bodies are prisms allowing the light of the sun to shine
Beams break forth from the orifice that rests upon our undistinguished faces
Reminders of what is within splintering through every available opening
Wandering rays rendezvous at the core of the chest
Exploring uncharted paths on the geography of our physical selves
Transcendent roads vague to our periphery  
Slowly defining their forms on the outskirts of our wearied retinas
Our illuminated minds, embodying the sun  
candescent stones fortified by layers of bone meant to hold their fluorescence
Our organic beams of light, such tender arms, lingering in the punctured sky
are using the clouds as paintbrushes, pieced together bits of mosaic already at their disposal
Our backs resting on abstract clay with shifting pastels, whispering clarity into our cartilage
leftover laments torn apart to bits with the newfound realization that we are whole.
Like unearthed clairvoyance, we survey the translucent waters before us
peering into the stillness our bodies disrupt like the pillars of beautiful dissonance they are

Every voice is too loud
every question is too biting
and I hate the world for making me feel these things I feel
because not every heart comes with a safety valve and
not every pair of lungs knows how to breathe while crying