My heart, it can't take much more
Knowing your secrets, your core
Does she touch you the way I do?
Does she love you like I want to?
Tell me, when you're awake at night
Shadowed by her hair and the moonlight
Do you think of me?
This is a game of run and chase
I'm the mouse, and she's the snake
I could prove myself to you but what good would it do
If you stay by her side until death turns you blue?
I see the way you fight and the fire in her eyes
She'd rather make you miserable than admit her lies
How can you stay?
I envision us woven together,
You and me bound by a tether
Discovering crevices and dips and grooves
The way your shoulders feel so smooth
My dreams are of you doing better, for you
My hope is that you will add me in, too
She'll call me a home wrecker, it may be fact
But don't let our chance slip through the cracks

all the things that I've red at night
in the luminous orange of sodium light
just make me feel like a yellow-belly
for being so ******* green with envy
of all the words that blue my mind
written with those lovely indigo eyes
that burn with a fierce violet flame...

...Somewhat like the sun peeking out of the rain.

An old, blue-eyed man
His heart buried beneath boards
Poe claimed sanity

to end the silence
we must first stand up and sing
for those who are mute
             ~*~

my eyelids grow heavy...
holding the weight of my choices
one is wet with tears and the other, black and ******
is it not okay to find ourselves?
the more I search, the more my identity turns to sand
tries its hardest to shift and spiral
right out of my clenched hands
continuously, I assure myself that I know who I am
I smile back, I answer calls, I tip the bartender
so I can guarantee that if they found me
washed up on this gritty gravel shoreline
they wouldn't understand that I tried sinking to the bottom...
simply to find my peace of mind  

for under the ground lies a habitat of freedom
an abundance of silence, solitude, serenity
to sink means I've succeeded
but they would yank me to the surface
they always do.
and I struggle yet again
to understand if oxygen and warm towels and emergency lights and people and warm tea and life are a blessing
or if, yet again, my plans to find myself have been hopelessly
foiled...
I really hate warm tea

your hands
grasp my hips
my fingers
touch your lips
your mouth
shocks my neck
my mouth
leaves yours wet
your stomach
presses mine
my stomach
grows butterflies
your legs
tangle the sheets
my legs
feel your heat
your eyes
watch me move
my eyes
watch you