The ache for meat from a starved vegetarian
and the life flooding from a dead mans eye sockets.
Images that blind you and burn you,
like an itch under your finger nail,
out of reach, deep beneath what hurts to break.
I'll give you the benefit that I always loved you and I'll pray out loud,
even if my teeth are clenched,
tongue bleeding,
barely breathing through the pain.

A million words wouldn't cure this silence.

This silence is dead,
cold,
rotting,
and yet it stares
with a contradicting smile
and it breathes, continuing to ****,
soaking deeper like memories do.

Understanding the nature of your actions,
                                                          reactions,
                                                          emotions.
You're my paper man.
Your strings are slowly breaking.
One day they'll be gone, and where will you be?
You don't believe in anything.
You're an agnostic piece of literature
that's collecting dust in some old building
where there aren't any people, and if there were,
they wouldn't understand your language,
or your face.
They would fear your hands,
and your eyes,
and your finger.
The finger that pulls the trigger,
that cuts the strings,
their strings, and your own.

There's this certain emptiness that comes with death at ones own hand.

I can feel the colours running
I search for the right words but nothing's coming.

My face is clear,
apart from the burn of a cigarette
and the traces from your finger tips.
This is relationship terminology
and it's tearing a hole inside of me.

Perfectly painted fishes that line your bathroom walls
and the cold yearning of a sinking ship calls.

Now I'm alive,
but some thing's never change
and what I have is incredibly strange.
It's this smile,
it shines and it aches.

Let me run until my feet begin to bleed,
because I have you and that's all I'll ever need.

I don't need something to believe in,
because my only belief is collecting dust,
and the second you cry is the second you start to rust.

We call them lies because they were never true,
and now I'm soaking with the fact that my 8 pound head
is full of over 100 pounds of you.

you listen to the music that I am now and you are here and feel like I do.
we were kissing and loving and sharing our beauty.
you are the fire that burns my lips, my tongue.
I stare into those eyes that morphed my thoughts and sent me to that beautiful escape we like to call home.
I feel your paralyzing touch and sink into our boundless love.

digging through the pavement
with our fingers
we have nothing to show
but asphalt underneath our nails.

sometime's we're attracted,
but mostly we're distracted.

insignificant figures torn
from the edges of what we call reality
wanting to be something more,
only to be left in the dark to struggle with the bends.

sometime's we're alive,
but mostly we're dead.

heavy waves of realization
scorn the oblivious into truth
proving the lack of worth
with each stroke
everything shades itself out
before anyone can think again.

shying away from the white on the walls
so full of screws and tacs and faces
run your hand across it
accept the lack of life
animate your dreams with reality
fill yourself with good news

I don't want your love unless you know that I'm impulsive

I wasn't happy about it
but i congratulated you anyway
I wanted you to know that I cared about you
that was the only way I knew how
then I hid it all away with the expressions on my face
which was pointless because you could hear it in the taste

I don't want your love unless you know that I'm repulsive

from the pool to the ground that we sat
our lives stretched for miles
like love melting in the bright gold sun
shading out the light with a black drop of night
everything bursts with shades from
blue to green to grey to red
our hands will gently clasp
glide by each other for a blink
don't pay attention to what distracts
skin tight clothes sticking to drenched bodies
drenched with the freshness of a new day
and all the happiness that we've been anticipating all along.

with the mind of an artist you'd think that she could come up with
something to jump off the page
strangle you with her words of beauty and then bring you back to life
with every word she has written
but all she can do is repeat herself and stumble, fall, and skin her knees
with the ground at the bottom
to pull something from nothing and force it in a box, then twist it into a
riddle, that's what she does
then she looks at people, makes things sad, tries to believe in her own
lies, then kills with her artificial love
coffee breath, ***** jeans, a tired girl, and a desperate search for
something more
cornering a boy with the shadow covering his face, he's so unknown in
this town that it's almost unbearable
innocence doesn't make him blind but it makes his eyes a portal to his
young untouched mind
she looks inside and tries to find what makes him smile, she unravels
his secrets and a memory or two
everything that came out of those untouched lips made everything
shine and burst with a euphoric light
the lust she had for him was held in a jar with a tight cap and a glued lid,
she hoped it'd never be revealed,
until the day the jar breaks she will forever linger, tense and poised,
until she can somehow relax