Open, but empty.
Waiting, but without expectation.
Come get me.
Come find me.

Cone take me away
From what I am.

The pain is separate
From the person.
She acknowledges it
Accepts it
Enjoys it
But it is separate.
It barely even exists
Even though it is consuming a part of her brain.

The pain proves she still exists
Even if it's only a part of being.

He asks you
To lie down, naked on his bed
And when you try to cover yourself
To hide what you perceive as flaws
He prevents it.
He holds your hands
And looks in your eyes
And tells you
Exactly
What he's going to do.

He starts at your feet
(So he can end with your mind)
And travels up your flesh.
At each point, he kisses
And looks in your eyes
And tells you
Exactly
Why it's perfect.

At your most insecure
Your stomach, your hips, your *******
He takes the most time.
Your stomach is perfect; soft and warm.
Your hips are beautiful; he loves to watch them sway.
Your ******* are the most sensuous creation; he could live between your mounds.

He continues up your body
Tenderly tracing your curves with his mouth
With his fingers
With his eyes.
Trying to preserve your frame in his mind
To recreate when you leave
Because he never wants you to go.
And if all he can have is the memory of your body
He will remember it in perfection.

But he does not neglect your eyes, your heart, your mind.
Once he reaches them
He tells you that your eyes are the most beautiful stars
He has ever seen
And he would travel to Jupiter if it meant he could find their equal
But he knows he could never find better.
He says your heart holds the most rare liquid in the world
The blood of a goddess
For what goddess before you has been human?
He says your mind is the most confoundedly beautiful maze
He has ever traveled.
And he doesn't really want to ever solve it
Because the path is so wonderful.

As he finishes memorizing every last part of you
And every last part of your soul
He looks in your eyes
And tells you
Exactly
How much he loves you.

"The only solution is to burn the body
And by doing so, burn your misdeeds.
Unless, of course, you LOVE him.
Do you LOVE him, Johnny?"

"I could never love any but you, Todd!
It was a moment of confusion!
You know how it is.
You toss the body onto the ground
To stuff and turn into a marionette...
The next thing you know you're
Playing hide-the-sausage with a corpse.

I regret my actions.
You and I are in LOVE."

I woke up, heart racing
And you were there.
But it was too far away to be you
So I just got more scared.

The trees turned to guns
My ear turned to blood.
They must've shot me;
Maybe I mistook shots for heartbeats.
I do that sometimes.

The bullets must've been the birds.
They can be cruel, you know
And what else could a tree shoot?
Pinecones are made for glitter
Not gunplay.

You weren't you
Because you were too far
But you were so close.

Nature usually negates my nightmares.
Guns are made of metal and fire
Not wood and birds.
You are always you
Even when I'm not exactly me.

I am empty.
People can only prove they exist
By having relationships with others.
If no one knows who you are, then you aren't.
I called my lover.
We had nothing to say.
The phone felt fragile in my hands
But maybe it was just our words that made it feel so.
I called my mother
She rushed me off
Shallow words filling the scurried silence.

If my strongest relationship are this tenuous,
How can my existence not be?

The way you hold me in your sleep
The way you mumble through your snores
The way you always make fun of my noises
The way I can make fun of yours.

Your eyes, your lips, your smile, your touch.
Your hands and the arms that reach.
Your height, your sandals, your silly t-shirts.
How easy you are to teach.

The way you can always make me laugh
The way you don't make me embarrassed to cry
The way you make me feel like everything
The way you never lie.

Your thoughts and your mind and your heart and your soul
Your fantastic spaghetti dinners.
Your hair, your beard, your manly features
How you let me be the winner.

The way you make me hope for the future
(I hope you hope for it too.)
The way you allude to it, on occasion.
The way you refreshed me, anew.

I wish I didn't make that face
When I swallow wine.
My face contorts.
Mouth goes sideways when brain goes upside down.
Everybody's smashing things up
And my brain-hole likes it.

You say you're gonna go burn the house down.
Good luck.
I know it's harder than it seems.
You love it
And what it holds.
You're just insane with hormones.
But that's okay, because so am I.

When you think about it, we're all insane with something.

I thought the Shell sign was the moon.
The music on the radio, the stars.
Both burn yellow, you know.
Both are beyond my comprehension.

The curves of the highway creates mountains
For me to scale and caress.
For me to climb with ease and freedom.

The world is my ocean
And you are my vessel.
Let me sail these seven seas.

Sleep always clears my head.
I wake up the next day
And realize
I do love him
Everything will work out.
Our happily ever after will be
As powerful as the amount of work we put in.

I've been held captive
By my own life
Which I sometimes think is all an imaginary cover-up
For something terrible.
It's held me inside
In the dark
In the cold
For days
On
End.
But today I will escape!
And be set free
By myself
By my captor.
I will no longer be a hostage!
As of today.
And it will be warm
And bright
And beautiful.

sometimes it's really nice
to feel i matter
and to see that people sometimes notice me
occasionally even remember me
and maybe even want to see me again.
the alcohol helps, of course
but it still counts.

sometimes all i need
is a
really
good
night

Shaking limbs and rumbling stomachs
Poor vision and cold toes.
These are what I have to keep me through the night.
I know not where they came from
Or why they've come for me.
They are here
As an elite task force
Created to bring malaise and confusion to their victims.

I don't know why they came
And I don't know who I am
And I don't know anything.

Forgive me.

Thank God for music.
You scream until your voice gets hoarse
And yell until you run out of words
And now I think you're crying in the next bed.
The crying breaks my heart.
But when I finally get to put on my headphones
You leave
And I have a beautiful man
Singing in my ear.
This stuff doesn't really matter.
It'll all be ok.

You wrote this
It says.
Written as a whisper.
You wrote this
It tells me.
It serves a reminder.
You wrote this. You did this. This is a product
Of your mind.
This is all yours.*

It is a sign to remind me
To be proud
To show myself respect
To be in awe
Of what can happen
When you let your insides out.

Silence is always the safest answer.
My dad used to get mad at me
For not participating in conversations.
I was just smart enough to know
That most of the time the response in my mind
Should not be voiced
In fear of judgement
Or anger
Or just plain discomfort.
It is a trait I have brought with me from childhood.

Often not responding is the best response of all.

I used to dream of Greece.
I guess I still do.
It seemed like such a
Romanticized country.
I envisioned beautiful people
Floating through the streets
Hair curled from the sea
Skin rough from the sun.
Draped in soft fabric
With sexuality oozing through every pore.

I saw beauty
And nature
And freedom in one's skin.

Apparently there's a lot more to it than that.
Bombs tend to ruin it all.

Show me something new.
Or not even new, really.
Just show me something wonderful.
I promise I'm still interested.

Show me how your face looks
When you're thinking.
I can't handle that other face anymore.
You know the one.
You've been showing it a lot.

Show me what music looks like to you
And what meaning words have for you.
Show me your sun and your moon.
Show me something I haven't seen in a while.

If you don't want to, give me a chance.
I'll try to show you how music swirls in my head
And how words are made of both stone and water.
I'll show you that some days, you're my sun.
And other days my sun is explosive.
I'll tell you how the moon sings to me some nights
And other nights just lets me talk.

I'm not done talking to you.
I'm not done hearing.

I worry you feel the opposite.

It's really sad that this won't last.
My creativity comes in spurts
And I'm not ready to let it go yet.
It's possible that obsessing about its exit will spur it on
But I can't help it.
I love the part of me that sees and feels and hears and understands
But it never stays.
I wrote a story once, with the help of a friend.
At the time it was beautiful, a tragic tale of love and lies and hope and hate.
Looking back all I see is stylized garbage, with the core of an interesting idea.
I hope that's not what these end up being.
I want my prose to be cherished and seen as a testament to my love of words
My love of ideas
My love of thoughts and brainwaves.
But I'm scared that that's not going to happen.
That's why I don't share it.
If only I see it as garbage in a year
It won't be as bad as if my whole life is aware of my failure.

I hope this is good.
I hope this is cherished.
I hope I am real.

"Since you took care of
That filthy mess
What should I do with the body?"

"Do as you like, but remember.
We are in a monogamous relationship
And a corpse is still a person."

Two insomniacs stirring in the night.
Eventually, one gives in
To the temptation of a dream.
The other cannot do so.
She stirs in bed, changing positions by the minute.
Her head won't shut up,
Full of abstract phrases
And pretty words.
If only she could do the same
While being unconscious.

In space, no one can hear you scream.
However, they can't hear you make that
Weird snort when you laugh, either.
I guess you gotta choose your priorities.

She saw.
My world did not burst into flames
(the color of her hair, by the way)
My hair did not all fall out
(though i lost a significant amount in the shower)
My brain did not melt into lava.
All is still well
And I have not yet died.

I think that calls for a drink.

I don't want to write you any more praise.
No more verses about your lips
Pressed tight against my skin.
No words about how
Absolutely fascinated
I am by your mind.
And how I desire to know everything about you.
I want to write about something entirely different.
I don't like being so
Focused
On one person.

It would be easier if you would get out of my head.

I need to get out of this funk.
I am consumed by thoughts of my own inadequacy
When really I'm just another
Slightly ****** up
Human.
We're all the same, basically.
So there's no reason for me to
Obsess
Over my idiosyncrasies.
We all have them.
So I am now over it
For the next thirty days.
If I get over it
Maybe
Since we're all the same
Everyone else will
And then the world will continue spinning
The sun will continue burning
And I will continue loving.

All right, you.
Time to focus.
Get down to business.
It's game time, and you're dropping the ball.
Just like always.
But this time it's almost important!
So focus.
Stop distracting yourself.
Put away the cell phone
And the facebook.
Hide The Onion
And block out what you don't need.
Pay attention.
You need to pay attention so you can succeed.
Be like the other kids
And actually try.
Put your nose in that book

Oh but wait.
He needs help!
I have to help him
And make him feel better!
It's self-sacrificing!
It's okay!

No.
FOCUS.
You need to go and do this.
Take care of this first.
He's important too
But first things first.
I'll talk to you about him later young lady.
Right now you need to stop with the typing
And learn.
For once, don't be pathetic.
Don't just let stuff fall into your lap.
Ever heard of making an effort?
If you fail, you will be
A disappointment to us all.
This is the only thing you're good at
We both know it.
So are you going to tell me
That the one thing you can do,
You won't?
Pathetic.
Sad.
You are a sorry excuse for a student.

But I always do fine!
I don't need it!
Trust me.
When's the last time I suffered from my lack of effort?
Oh, that?
That's one class.
One grade.
Ok, two.
It doesn't matter in the long run!

Doesn't matter?
Is that why you are making your parents
Those who birthed and raised you
Pay thirteen thousand bucks a year for it?
Because it doesn't matter?
You are a waste of money.
They should've had a child
Who appreciated the things
They worked so hard to give.
Doesn't matter my ***.
Just go.
I'm done with you.
You disgust me.

Everything is far too
Temporary
To be important.

Jobs are passing.
School is passing.
People are passing.

The only reason anything is done
Is to help spend time
Until your time too passes.

I don't think I slept last night.
Listened to country
Hoping it would lull me to  sleep
Until two.
Took a pill at three.
Laid there

waiting

waiting

waiting

For hours.
I may have slept at some point.
Four or five in the morning?
All I know
Is when my alarm rang at ten a.m.
I was half awake already.

How can you tell if you've been unconscious?

It's amazing how a beer bottle can drown out everything else
And all you can understand is that you're pressing it too hard
And your lips are too soft to hold it.

The moon's on the wrong side of the sky tonight.
It's too big for me
Too blue.
Politics are too big for me too
So I'm glad you can hold the conversation.

I don't want to hear anymore
But my bottle's been recycled
And the only other thing that drowns it all out is your lips
And they're occupied.

I'm kind of glad they are
Because otherwise I'd voluntarily become deaf
And that can't be healthy.

The moon's on the wrong side tonight
So I'm glad you're with me.

Nothing came to me today.
No phrase, no
Juxtaposition of words
Sat my mind
And made me pay attention.
Today is the first day I am meant to be an adult.
Now I have bills
And checks
And balances.
Why did none of it seem important?

You will soon find another girl.
One who is worthy of your affections
And who doesn't tempt fate at its every turn.
A better girl, a braver girl.
And I know I will have to let you go.
I won't be able to sit with your at two a.m.
And listen to music with you
And have real conversations, which are so rare in all the others.
I won't be able to feel your fingers trace patterns in my hair.
All of you touches will be hers
And all your words will be spoken to her.
I know this
And I don't know if I'll be able to handle it when it comes
But I do know that while I have you
I will feel every minute, minutely
And try to extend every second into eternity.
Please let me.

You know you can make me forget
So please, just make me forget.
Make it go away.

Whisper through my screaming thoughts,
Kiss me through the blood in my mouth.
Hold me through the steel bars I'm feeling surround me.

Make it go away.

Just kiss me, kiss me please!
For when our lips meet
The world melts.
I melt.
Liquid can't think, either.
Liquid can't be tortured.
Liquid can't cry.

Envelope me with your body;
Make me believe in man again.
Or at least let me forget what I know of them.

Desperately me body needs a distraction
A release, a vent
It needs you.
I need you.

I need you.

I miss you.
It's dark and it's night
And you should be laying beside me.
We should be tossing and turning
Together.
I'm tired of being apart.
I'm tired of not being tired.
I want to be able to
Feel you behind me
Or to see you
And to put my head on your chest
And listen to music in the dark.
I miss you
And I can't wait til we're together again.

I am not deep like the rest of them.  
I have no style
No beautiful phrases
About love
And life
And chicken.
All I have are my surroundings
And how they make me feel.
I feel hungry.
I feel tired.
I feel not as good as you.

I feel so restricted
But theoretically, I'm not.
I just want
crave
desire
A few months of freedom.
To experience something else
Before I settle down for life.
I just want to be able to see
A little bit
Of the world.
I want to see someone else's world.

I think I'll shut it down.
It's nice
And simple
And classic
But it's not necessary anymore.
If I'm here,
I don't need to be there.
Yes?
And here, maybe
There might be some benefits
Whereas there I'm hiding by myself.
From myself?
Who knows.
Who cares.

You are covered with sweat, on top of me.
It drips onto my naked body
My naked face.
I lay there
Trying to look like I'm enjoying myself.
Smile.
Moan.
Arch.
I don't think you're buying it.
After you're done
You smile beatifically
And kiss me
And tell me you love me.
You tell me you were trying hard.
I wish I could tell you that I benefited
Because I know that's what you want to hear
But I can't lie to you like that.

I do it for you.
I hope that sometimes you believe me.
But I don't think you do.
I love you.

You don't have his eyes memorized.
You know they're green, sometimes
But they're elusive when you try to draw them with your fingers.
You aren't confidantes with every last cell in his hands
Or know the moons of his fingernails.
And you can't taste his lips when he's not there.

You don't know him yet, and that's fine.
But you need to remember that.
I think if you had his minutiae immortalized in your mind
And you could already sculpt his eyes out of air
You would be in far too deep
Far too soon.

I don't even have to specify
And you know what I mean
As if you read my mind.
You don't push me
But you don't fear me
And you are actually man, not boy.
You understand me
The way no one else ever has.

Just as importantly,
You want me to be happy
At the expense of your blue *****
Which I'm sure are quite prolific.
I've not been this wet in months
And you haven't even touched me.

It seems strange to be alone
Here, without you.
Only with the dark night
And the bright screen of my computer
As companions.

My bed is far smaller than yours
But there's far too much room
Because you aren't here with me.

I shouldn't miss you like this.
I shouldn't care for you so much.

I never missed him.
When did I start missing you?

All of my works are "in progress".
None of my words come out right.
My phrases are static, my endings not dramatic.
I need you to turn on my light.

It seems I only know sorrow.
Negative feelings at best.
I've not learned to write what's not said in a fight
But I don't want to give it a rest.

They say an artist must suffer.
Can only make with the pain that she feels.
But you give me no pain; I laugh in the rain.
I want you for all of my meals.

So I guess I will just have to work
And figure out how to write love.
So my words are in progress, my ends have no success
But there's nothing I'd rather write of.

Do I hope to get anything from this?
Besides a catharsis
Besides an outlet for my words.

Am I expecting something?

Maybe I secretly hope that someone will like it
And maybe show other people
And maybe I could have an effect one someone.

But surely I know that's improbable.

I guess I should not think about it
And just let my writing take care of me
And I will take care of her
And we will float on like the castaways we are.

I know what I should be writing about
But I can't.
Not yet.

I can't think about it.
I can't feel about.

I'm afraid of what will happen if I do.

I'm just glad you'll be there
When I have to.

"I'm so sorry.
I couldn't resist!
We were alone in the cellar...
Rigor mortis set in
And you know I like my men stiff."

"****** Johnny!
That was the one thing I asked you
Not to do.
I thought you were just
Going to add him to your puppet theater...
How can we come back from this?"

I dreamed you left me at Christmas.
Under snow and trees, you walked away.
You just didn't want me anymore.

I know it's false.
You've given me no reason to doubt
(Though I shouldn't be thinking that far ahead anyway.)
You have only been perfect.

I guess my subconscious is just still waiting.
(I wish my dreams didn't have a habit of becoming real.)

Summer's coming.
Soon my life will consist of water and sun
With some work thrown in for good measure.
Hopefully it's better than those before it.
But this year I am more confident
This year I actually won't be alone.
If I play my cards right
I should be spending my days by the water
***** in one hand, book in the other
Headphones on.
That is how summer is meant to be.

You might be coming back.
Back to Texas
Back to the few connections you have in this world.
Back to me.

I haven't seen you in a year
But nothing's changed.
We have a strange (and beautiful) relationship.

You are my best friend.
No one else has ever come close
To knowing me like you do
And being as fantastic as you are.
You are what I've wished I could be, sometimes
And you are the only one I have always
Been able to believe in
To count on.
(Though you are far too ethereal for solid plans).

You are a wanderer
A traveler, a barely-there reality.
You are blue hair and ****** piercings
Ska and gin and legs that go for years.
I wouldn't be able to count the miles.

I don't keep people.
I don't plan to remember them
Or even believe I will, most of the time.
But I always remember you
And I will always keep you
No matter how far you go.

I know you're here.
Maybe not right now
But you will be
Or you were.
Whatever.

Will you see me?
Can you tell?

Come see me
Let me know you remember
Let me know I don't ****.
I know I'm not
All you love
But come one.
Just do it.

Just leave me alone.
Please.
I know you think you're being sweet
And you miss me
And you blah blah blah.
But please.
There's nothing to say and I hate forcing it.
We are fine.
I just want to read
And sleep
And be alone.
It's not hormonal.
It's just me.