So I'll throw stones,
cause I can already see the cracks.
Aim for them and brace myself
for all that's hailed back
Cause sometimes the best way
to see who you really are
is to see what you do under attack
I won't rely on glass to protect me,
I'll have my own back 
Shatter my own shell
Be rid of false Fragility,
Free all the ability
With the agility
Gained from the shield I now lack

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

I watch her parting lips
form around tongue-tied mouth
waiting for the words to come
waiting to hear what she has done

I brace myself for what I am about to hear
astonished that somehow she can see through the cascading tears
a haunting silence fills the room
She says her time is ending soon

If I'm not in my right mind, then what am I left with?
Would it be wrong if I left it?
We live reckless just to feed on breathless seconds that we wish would last a lifetime.
There's no suicidal mind when you're your own lifeline.
We can't run from ourselves.
I'm sure we have all wanted to just stretch out of our skin when the words burn from within
Because you don't know where to begin, avoiding what they would taste as a sin as it drips from your lips.
The conflict that exists in the midst of the mist that crawls upon these fists that refuse to give in.
You don't have to fight yourself.
If I am not in my right mind, then where am I? I am daring to deny that you are not I (eye) - because I see the skies live larger than life.
This time I hate to be right, but the life is stale in your eyes.
You must've never learned how to scale your sight.
Run from this limitation.
A gun to your finicky fixations;
Be one with x in any equation.
Multiply you are not just another number, by you are not just another stutter that is uttered through the lips are the unsure..
And you will get the summer.
You would know that if you ever dared to wander from the shade you hide under.

- L.g

**** your condescending words, dripping out of your mouth with false justification, while your left hand leaves your side to crash down on the entirety of me.
With this mindset, it'd never be right to have the upper hand on me.
You deceive your right hand man.
**** your demeaning doubts that you place upon my mind, begging to come in and destroy the art I have displayed inside.
I did not cry out for you, so why are you here? Speaking of which, I remember when my cries drove you to steer far from anything that might be near my heart.
You don't get to see me fall apart.
You don't get to see me tear down the art away from its poetic position, just so you can place it in a box and treat it like its garage  sale quality.
I get to have all of me.
**** your motives ulterior that are just as superficial as your leather interior.
**** being inferior to the ones who cannot function if they're not superior.
I've been living on my feet for the sake of time, and you're only getting off your knees because you're out of it.
**** being distant from truth because you don't like the sound of it.
Drown a bit in the waters of self-confrontation, and choke on the paralyzed verbs you throw at the population.
**** validation.
**** your accusations.
And **** being mistaken when the step you've taken is only a misstep.
You are not your mistakes.
So **** letting the outtakes paint the scenery of your film.
My patience is wearing thin like a film on the edge of an outdated window seal.
**** making me feel something that was never real because your seal was never sealed tight enough, ******* in cold nights when you didn't write enough.
Riled up in silence with a heart beating violent...
**** allowing your chest to become the battlefield and letting stress feed your diet.
I've tried it and tried it, but today I say...

**** being quiet.