How did i get here , what did i do so wrong?
Im living my life thru a **** ****...
The feeling of being alone, is no stranger to me.
But when hitting a bone,alone i never can be.
Im so bad, so far gone on that stuff.
I do it...because normalcy is not enough.

So I'm sitting here
in my space
and it really is space,
outer space,
and if I listen to it,
it sounds
like the spaceship
which it is,
and since
I have unplugged
the television
and turned off
the radio,
I can hear
the unusual sounds
of this unearthly, earthly spaceship
humming,
and when I listen closely
I can hear
the hum and high-pitched hiss
of my brain
and nervous system,
as I go traveling outward
into the vastness
of the universe
in this spaceship
called my house
in the suburbs.

It has been two years,
two months
and twenty days
since the last time I posted anything here.
Yet I still get an email every few weeks,
from a new fan
or a new favorite
or a new comment.
And I never say thank you.

Thank you.

It's been a hell of a year.
Two years, really.
And I'm sorry I haven't thanked you all
individually.
One by one.
I'll try to keep up in the future,
because this is a wonderful community
and you are all wonderful people.
I appreciate all of your support.

Keep writing.

Keep living.

At the ripe age of three
I would take full sheets of paper
and set them gently in front of me
and think of how beautiful they were.
Because they were waiting for my words.
But it wasn't until I was in the eleventh
grade that I found them
hiding with my heartbeat.
I never really fought with my fists
but I fought with a little too much heart.
Felt a bit too much
but I don't regret it.
Nor will I ever.
Do you know how to make things beautiful?
The cellist sitting on the street corner
bowing those strings that haven't yet
broken and remember,
that you never paid attention to how it looked.
But it was gorgeous.
And you're gorgeous.
We never measure life
with how many
heart beats we've got
we measure it by how many
miles we've walked.
And although we're not perfect,
neither is God.
We are strong.
We are beautiful.
And I wonder which is more dangerous;
a bottle of whiskey
or a loaded gun.
But it doesn't matter
because somewhere out there
there's someone promising
that they will paint their lover's
portrait in the sky with fire.
And all my life I've hated being a man,
so I decided that these poems
they're my children.
And after you hear them,
I hope that you'll carry them with you.
So don't walk through your life
with your ears covered.
This is for the women who make our heartbeats.
Who give birth to lives.
And this,
this is for the men.
Who sacrifice everything they have
just so they can keep telling
someone that they love them.
I can count ten thousand reasons
to be alive.
But only one reason to be right here.
Beauty kiss my lips.
Mercy show us tears.
We have to fill the gaps with something alive.
So I spend my spare time remembering
your eyes by heart.
Let's split this night open.
We'll cleave it with our words.
We'll sew together our gaping wounds
with the strings of kites,
so that when the wind blows
birds will pluck at them and make
music from our strife.
Remember this.
We couldn't have asked for a more
exciting time to be alive.
So let's make something beautiful.
Lay me down under a blanket of stars
so that when I wake up I can
find my way home.
This world can be cold but
I've learned that heartbeats are louder than gunshots.
And you don't need to tell me there's more out there
Instead I'll go stargazing in your
eyes and strip these
ribbons from my arms.
Build me.
Give me something worthwhile.
And let's learn
how to make things pretty.

Autumn was it when we first met
Autumn is it what I can't forget
Autumn was love and fret
Winter is not upon thee yet.

Autumn has three months,
Where leaves are by counted by the millionth,
Autumn is the time to find some shoes
While the season after brings us the blues.

Autumn is colour and life
Autumn was when you hug your wife.
Autumn is all alone
Autumn was blissful and blown.

Dearest our love poem goes like this
Come to me again late at night
In between purple hues skies and patchwork blankets
Come to me when my parents are fast asleep
And they won’t be able to hear the one-two of your feet
Walk up the carpet marked stairs
And higher up still my bunk-bed ladder
And even if you miss the second step
Don’t worry if the thud of your body hitting the floor
Wakes them up.
**** it.
After you scrabble up into my bed and
Later when they come in we’ll tell them the truth
You were only trying to whisper me
Your secrets
And I was born with ears in my mouth
And let them find out
That some people were born like that
With body parts hidden in odd places
And senses that overlap organs
Making it hard to understand why I have
To taste your words
And see your heart
Because I was also born with eyes far apart
From my face and somewhere close to my chest
And it just so happens to be I found someone like you
Who was like me too
That was born with their ribcage unattached
So when we hug I see your blood
Flowing in and out of your beating heart
I could touch it with my eyes they are so close
But I won’t.
See I was born with my feeling on the arms of my blouses
And when you take off my shirt
I brush against the bend of your knees and fall to
Tickle the tops of your toes
Where your mouth supposedly isn’t supposed to be.