Your absence, a petty guilt,
threw daggers from the inside my my mind.
A personal demon dragged up from Hell to replace you.
He picked up your old ****** needles.

Put them to good use on me.

Oh Demon,
Please,

Loosen the hands on my throat.


Oh Lover,
Please,

I sometimes like to breathe,
I do.
I do.

I am setting your soul on fire
Like that pack of Player's Light
I will burn on in your mind.

Because the fire on the horizon
Was brighter
Than any light
You could have given me.

It was the brightest side of your clever mind
That, with mine, did intertwine.

It was the brightest side of the sun that sways
The grassy plains in which we lay.

It was the brightest side of your darkest day
I saw your sanity slip away.

It was the brightest side of my heart that died
When you left.

My best friend, you
At three in the morning,
You asked me to sing you to sleep.
All I could do was sit; think. Silence.
What to sing,
What to sing.
My best friend, no longer.
A year later, and
I am still thinking,
Of what to sing you.

When I was little,
My dad used to drive my mom to the airport on Fridays
And everytime we passed
Cliffe St Apartments
An old man sat eternally
Looking a thousand miles out the window.

And now
I know
Why.

I am
plagued by this—
recurring dream?

And ghosts in the closet
They howl and moan
And make it hard
to stop the nightmare.
And make it hard
to fall asleep.

My love like a lone penny in the street,
Fell far from your wallet, claiming no trust.
Sitting idle where cement runways meet,
Black copper stained by love's untimely rust.

My love like the paper of yesterday,
Read over and then thrown away quick.
This torture you have given me to weigh,
Could make even the invincible sick.

My love like a needle of addiction,
Clawing at the vein of your youthful grace.
Mind and soul in a bold contradiction.
A hunger that no mere pill can erase.

My love like a burning candle in night.
My love denied by your ignorant sight.

A lover like my lungs—
     That partly provide
     with smoked-out abuse
and the air inside.

A lover like my viens—
     That tear open wide
     When your mouth does
and the blood inside.

A lover like my spine—
     crouched over snapping
     as I write this.
I hope it breaks like this rhyme scheme.

I love you like my lungs, my viens, and single spine
All were yours
And never mine.

I am caught
In gold rays.
He plays with my strings.
Plucks and pulls at my papery wings
That flutter and beat
For the lights on the street.
Drags me in through attraction
When night is black and goth.
Just like a magnet.
Just like a moth.

My people, I
Am tired of grass,
The blades are tasteless
And it takes much too long
To fill this growing flesh.

Let us eat the bugs
That eat the grass;
And save ourselves the time.

My people, these crickets
Are too crunchy,
And once again,
I am eating for days to fulfill this need.

My people, we
Have grown so big
That we must go
One step above
And pierce the sky
And eat the Gods.

Language is a tricky thing,
It changes as we do.
What now is slang could possibly be,
A speech so far from new.

Wording, 'tis a fickle being,
Doth grow along with humans fond.
What now is jargon could turn to be,
The poetic script of times beyond.

I wrote a love-letter to my demons
on the soft, tainted skin
of your back.

Sin has a name
Shaded on you,
in black.

Love faked his name,
and past but not personality.
Heart-splitting talks of sentimentality.
In the shallow depths of my heart's sea,
Your voice is merely a memory.

Entrapped in your thoughts so discretely sublime.

You told me,
*"Love is the only conqueror of time."

You told me that unrequited feelings are not real

So I will walk the five-thousand kilometres
cross the twelve borders
Appear on your doorstep
with my bones about to crack.
When you don't even love me back.

"How do you prefer to fall?"*


Test me.
Test my patience
And my soul
Test my heart within my whole.

I like a challenge, a puzzle.
I am too accustomed to easy.


Make me wonder why I am even here,

Let me delve the answers from my inner core.

If I could travel through time,
I would go back to when I first met you.

If I could stop time,
I would stay there for ten years,
     Thinking.

If I could control time,
I would have never met you,
And still have grown up in the process.

I have a lust for fire and a taste of ice.


We are the humanity which created a cunning device
called, "language."

It is not wrong vs oppositional right
Opinions change, and rock, and sway

We are not black and white;
We are shades of gray.

Snowflakes and fingerprints
We are all 'unique.'
But if we account into this,
the law of probablilty
and an infinite amount of time.
Will there ever be two identical snowflakes?
Will my DNA ever be replicated,
or am I already a copy of someone else's view
And even in
one billion years
will there
ever
be
another you?

You came as a friend,
Twisted into a lover,
and left a stranger.

Like passing seasons in a year.

You came, you saw, you conquered.

Ripped my flesh off to reveal my internals.
Walked out wordless;
     left me to wonder...

What   just   happened?


Your memory is a stale reminder of how I will never find another
     just quite you.

We were two halves of a broken heart,
but our torn and serrated edges willed us not to connect.

When you left, it
was tough.
     Is tough.

An stroke to differentiate
between he'll and hell

Not much difference.

In  the  first day of  physics,
the    teacher    asked    who
thought they were average.
Nobody  raised  their  hand.
But  if  we're  all  dif­ferent,
then doesn't that make it the

average?

I locked you in my closet,
And put your memories under my bed.

But now,
the flesh has fallen
and you are the skeleton in my closet
and beneath my bedframe,
your memories have spawned
a monster.

In past I have met a man,
Who sold his youth to sea
Now withered, before old age began
Tells tales of only memory.

I've also found a girl in ache,
Wronged by a single soul.
The past, tainted by a single break—
A future taking toll.

However many memories do invite—
I see no calling in yesterday's light.

In your depths
Between tissue,
And bone.
An ache of none other,
Red-rimmed unknown.

In your depths
Each blood cell that you do obtain
Ravages
It's caging vein.

A corridor of your heart
Itches.
The only way to rid yourself of it
Is to dissect your whole.
And rip apart your flesh,
And tear apart your soul.

Maybe in another world,
All soldiers come back at ease.
And out at sea the only sound
Is nature's tender breeze.
And in your head,
And in my heart,
The embers of love ignite a start.

But in this world,
And in my life,
As ashes, a husband returns to wife.
Disrupting nature's careful flow,
A blazing hate sets cities aglow.
And in this world, a sickening view,
My love is not returned by you.

You put together words
and syllables
and sounds because they
ring a certain bell in your ear.

You pause for a moment, an ominous drawl.

But is there any meaning?

Any meaning at all?

Can you sense me in your stomach?
I am that little colored pill.
Are you aware of my presence as your blood-alcohol level?
I am rising with every sip you take.
The cigarette which seeps into your lungs and infects your system like a snake:
That is me.
No matter what you do to your stomach, lungs or iris.
You cannot escape.
I am a violet-tinged virus.

A battle between
crosshairs,
we fall
and
rebound
back; we crack;
ricochet.

The bullet grazed,
and kept at bay.

Grow,   apply,   adapt.  As  ink,  we
seep   and  sink   into   surrounding.
Bring  with  us our  virus,  desirous
as we  come.  Sum  up all  we  have
gotten  and  it  is  not near our goal.
Soul  of   good   intentions  but  the
weapons    in    our    arms     speak:
"Weak!     We shall conquer all that
do   not  adhere!"   Clear, we   have
a  slightly  strange notion.  Motion:
**** the parasite that makes us sick.

Oxymoronic,
we are the Universe tick.

I could decipher your writing,
Every loop, curve, and line.
I know all of your secrets,
and you know all of mine.

I picture your past
as if I have lived it instead.
Your voice is my conscience,
Guiding my head.

I know how you died,
On that night, all alone.
But your favorite color,
I never have known.

Who* did you trade me for?
     (Yet you were never quite mine.)
What spurred you to do this?
     (As you stepped across the line.)
Where are you know?
     (Are we thinking the same thing.)
When will you come back?
     (Your absence brings a hollow sting.)

And I would trade these past four questions,
for the answer to but one:
Why did you leave me?
Why did you run?

There are two of me.

We are twins,
me and her.

Same body,
Different soul,
But combined?

Two parts but still the same.
Dual songs, one unsung.

I am the snake's forked tongue


The only thought
both minds share freely:
Who am I?

Who am I, really?

We   cut    and  shook
our    hands,   formed
a  bond   as  you  told
me,   "I will always be
in you as your blood."
But now you have dis-
appeared and all I am
left with is a  scar and

anemia.

I must have median.
Hurt, lust. Peace, and war.
Vast ocean and her shallow shore.
I wish for balance.
    I wish for you.

Thrown coffee mugs and movies on a couch.
Reliving hugs after petty fights.
    I want lonely nights.
Feelings of spite and that of adore.
    So in the morning I need you more.

I'll scream out "****", you'll shout out "*****,"
and when you turn and slam the door,
I'll realize how badly
     you can break me.

I want you to see my bad side.
    I want you to learn how to cope with it.

I want hurt, lust, peace, and war.
    But I'll always want you in my core.

There are skeletons in my closet
And monsters under my bed.
My ears are ringing,
with threats, unsaid.

Voices whisper,
but never caress
my body, no.
My mind they adress.

A thought that always
grinds with frustration.
Is this all real?
     or imagination?

There are skeletons in my closet
And monsters under my bed
But none of them compare
to this demon in my head.

It is five in the morning, I think,
for I cannot see the clock,
and the contacts are out of

     My eyes

ache with a hollow unknown.

How pitiful, I must be,
When even sleep will not take
     my sorry soul.

You stand on the edge
of my vision.
     Teasing?

So tantalizing.

Blurry,
but you manage
to radiate
with a perennial odor of:
Cigarettes.
****.
And bleach?

You are too far
for my arms to reach.

I think in statistics,
and you in heartbeats.

I am. You are. I am. You are.
I am chemical-based, you are a meaningful scar.

You explore,
covet,
and hoard,
anything near you.

While I am
stuck,
looking at my addiction,
through a lens.

I am forever cursed:
to skim for importance,
to look only at the bigger picture,
to glance only with logic's borrowed eye,

but you are here beside me, and you take in every little detail.

To me, blood is but a fluid,
yet in your eyes,
it is the fuel for lovers and the ink for poetry.

You are feather pens, I am erasable chalk.

The insomniac that is so filled with dreamer-talk.
So enticed by the world, that you couldn’t close an eye.

My mind is logic, reasoning, and your complete opposite.
Every word has a different meaning in your perspective
and every syllable holds a secret—
     one you must find out.

I am textbooks and punctuality and schedules.
But you, you are the only person I can wait on.

This is a cycle with ragged edges, bizarre.
I am. You are. I am. You are.

We are combined; a marvelous oxymoron.

For my 10th birthday,
You got me an earring.
Not a set,
only one.
A little white plastic wing.

I didn't even
have my ears pierced,
no.
I was afraid of that.

I threw them in the dark.
Bottom-left drawer.
The rickety brown desk
beside my bedroom door.

I called you 'icky,'
and cheap.
Very very cheap.

A fight is a lifetime,
when it lasts for a week.

I got one ear pierced.

Not because I am brave.

I wore
that little white plastic wing

to your grave.

My physics teacher told me;
we never quite touch.
The electrons don’t allow it,
or something of the such.

It would be fun to say a sentence,
idealistic,
enigmatic,
cliché,
and trite.
Perhaps a little something such:

“You touched my heart, you gave it a chill.”

But
you
never
did.

And
you
never
will.

You are the bullet.
I do not see, I only hear,
We connect, we cohere.
A split-second moment, we are kin,
As you skip across my skin.
You leave a mark, a life-delay.
You are a scar,
A ricochet.