I live on a planet that will eat you
No matter your thoughts nor your ego
With seven billion people
All of them evil
Blood lusting, dumb
or deceitful

They will defeat you

I live on a land that will feed you
But to beat you,
Freeze you
To build you,
Into

A machine

A machine that harvests energy
from the trees
But only to leash you
To lead you,
Unto
Unleashing
upon the
seas

But to deplete you
To fill you

of these

d
  r
   e
     a
       m
          s


I live in a prison system
In a solar driven orbit
In a spinning piston
of an engine
that absorbs
It

And
It

i
t

is a
planetary
collision course set
Forced in motions not
born yet

A speeding galaxy
ending on its
onset

An ocean of matter
serving as a
concept

A banner
filled of skeptics
and of prophets

Even the nonsense
of our profits

Is prospect

to the progress
of a faucet
unsolved
yet

stopping
where it

S
t
  a
   r
    t
     e
      d

absolved
of it

heart

l
e
  s
   s

When you first look her in the eyes and admire the way they shine in the moonlight,
look deeper than the iris and drown in her pupil
as it is dark and it is deep, and it is similar to that of the Marianas trench itself.
When you get deep inside her brain, you will see the monsters that man cannot at first glance.
It gets so somber that your heart will get heavy and your palms will sweat,
you will repeatedly want to turn and you will want to run away,
but don’t.
Because these thoughts are not demons after you,
they are attacking her relentlessly and while she does not need a hero,
a helping hand won’t hurt.
She is not helpless, but she is also not safe
and she is afraid, and she is hiding from them.
So when she flinches away from your touch,
be gentle.
Like the breeze she feels when she opens her window on a late August night to feel something other than the stillness of her room
and to remind herself she is not just imagining her existence.
Remember that she has been through her share of nightmares like you, and while some may not be as bad, they are incredibly real to her.
Remember that she needs someone to love just as much as you.
Do not think this is a demand you love her when she has no one else,
just open your mind and your heart because that skinny girl with tired eyes is one of the most beautiful you’ll ever meet
and you will remember her for years to come.
Please, be gentle for she is fragile.
She is cracked, but has been dropped and broken so many times, the pain is not as bad,
the hurt is not such a surprise.
Do not let her be surprised if you stay when she expects you to go, because she will,
she will assume, she will get weak and she will picture you leaving when she needs you most
or she will try to push you away,
but remember her smile and remember her face because every actress is told they have so much to love but that does not mean they are all in bliss.
You’re the polish on her scuffed up shoes,
you’re the sun peeking through her blinds on a cool summer morning,
you’re the reminder that it will all be okay,
So long as you don’t run.
When you meet a girl
with shaky hands and a faint heart,
remember that she can get stronger again.
You are not her crutches, but you are support.
Do not think her life depends on you, because it doesn't.
Never put that on yourself.
You are not a superhero, but you can be her helping hand
If you remember
that it’s alright to stay.

I’m scared, too.

we're all addicted to secret killers wether it be cigarettes you stole from your mothers purse or alcohol you found it the garage or that boy who swore would never leave you, maybe those anti depressants at the bottom of your backpack or the razor blades you hide between the pages of your books. but baby the cigarettes will burn away the boy will leave even after promising he wouldn't, and sooner or later we all find our way to the bottom of the bottle and my dear the only happiness that will never die away is the kind you give yourself.

To awake rested, yawn and
get up on the
completely right side
of the bed.

a full, healthy breakfast,
quality coffee.
good news headlining
the paper.

the smell of a bathroom after
a woman has spent time
getting ready for a
night out.

words of kindness from a friend.
such things I adore.
...but I love
poetry more.

a fully comprehensible manual.
a love letter post-it note,
or a book on something
hysterically interesting,

like psychology or history.
music of the kind that you welcome
sticking to your mind for a
whole day.

these things make my day for sure.
...but I love
poetry more.

her hands on me, warm with
sleep as she reaches over and
sighs between dreams.
yes. he's still here...

waking up with her hair in
my face, falling asleep on the
sofa with my head on her legs
the way a dog warms its owner's

feet with itself while resting.
not feeling like myself when
she's further away than the
next room.

hard to not shake
when she cries.
impossible not to laugh when
she laughs,

and to not want her
when she
wants me
to.

****. it's plain to see.
...I love her
more than poetry...

For as we lay
Together in tangled arms
To regret the land that's too far
Waiting to grasp any hope
Us finding a way to cope
Love is a difficult thing
Never the less it clings
But you are the blinding light
In my no longer dark night
So run away with me
For our fate will see