Wreckage
Slow-motion blood
Aging carcass
Pain strewn
All well earned
No station missed
Time sodden gift
Rumour laden
Balancing the edge
Twisting the knife
Flashing backwards
Fun on the run
Stand and Fight
Following the way
Way of the wayward
Aimed at the graveyard
Hammered to hardness
Til nothing breaks
Nothing matters

                      By Phil Roberts

It took me years
to fall in love with myself.
It was a foreign idea
throughout my childhood.
I remember the jealousy I felt
for the girls with flawless skin,
and perfectly straight hair.
I thought they were beautiful,
and they were,
but not in the most natural way.
I wanted to be the girl
who was beautiful
after rolling out of bed at noon
without any makeup
besides the mascara
from the night before.
I wanted to be the girl
who was effortlessly beautiful
without giving it a second thought.
I always admired those girls.
I loved the security
that radiated off them,
like the shimmer of sunshine
on delicately tan skin.
It took me years
to become one of those girls.
It was a slow process.
It took the shedding
of a society built for
flawless makeup ridden
artificially created beauty.
It took acceptance
for who I am without the mask.
It took forgiveness
for the flaws I was blessed with at birth.
It took years,
but I'm finally there.
I'm one of those
naturally beautiful girls.
I'm one of those girls
that could careless about shaving,
or washing their hair.
I'm a girl without cares.
I'm a girl in love with herself.

sugar boy,
your heart is caked like a treat,
soft as a bendy gummy;
but your eyes are what get at me,
for they shine like those
glow-in-the-dark rubber bands
that little kids played with.

sugar boy,
you're as sweet
as those dum-dum
lollipops.
your smile is as gentle
as a little, innocent kid
who is listening for
the ice cream truck.
your tears, however,
look so salty and
burn your face with
blackness.

sugar boy,
i'll wipe away those tears.
i'll make them fade
by a soft kiss on the lips.
i'll caress your ginger colored
cheek with my dry hands,
i'll make us both sweet lovers,
both so imperfect.

you're flaming. little specks of crimson burn like fire in your heart. your physique melts like *** on a fire and sparks of amber make you glow like a candle in the darkness. magenta lines cross your lips and your skin mocks the setting street lamps and the burning sun.

you're a mountain to me. dwarfing cities below you with peaks that stride above the heavens, attempting to graze the planets if even so slightly.

you are worth becoming the enemy of hell. you are worth every friend you've ever lost to file yourself. you are worth it, because i've never met anyone who loves as perfectly and passionately as you.

We danced toward
each other's wounds

with gentle step
and touched inside

and now the bleeding
has resumed

and all this blood
is hard to hide.