we always have
perception
open mindedness
an idea
us
humans
created
to feel as if
theres some hope
in becoming pure
but theres
no pure people
if theres still earth
beneath my feet
to remind me of
the dirt of our
past and present
and pupils
differently sized
to remind me of
our future
and blood
that pulses off beat
to trigger a genetic
passover
to remind me
of the nature of it all
that imperfection
and mutation
drive evolution
that we are
essentially
****** up

When I'm feeling frail
Or even full of anger
The pen meets paper

Even if its a few words
Or just a measly scribble
It makes all the difference

Maybe it's the quiet
The solidarity
A time to reflect

Could it be the escape
Into my dreams
And creations

Or is it simply
The smell of the ink in this cheap pen
That feels like home

Most people have scars that run in
perfectly
              straight
                           lines
                     but
             mine
        are
hopelessly crooked
because
I hated myself too much
to be that careful

I hacked at the paper-white skin
that was my wrist
and drew
               thin
                      red
                           lines
that didn't seem to know
where they were going
or even where they wanted to go

Today
when I touch them
the pain is still
                        so
                            raw
­                        so
                  real
I can almost feel the tears
rushing down my face
and onto my arms,
mixing with the blood
trying in vain to heal me

When my arms were open
I didn't see blood
I saw
         hurt
                hopelessness
                               ­      fear
                                           insecurity
                               despair
                      doubt
              pain
       hate
anger
The pain is hidden
underneath the layers of skin
that rushed to cover the ones
that I had pierced through
but sometimes
I think
           it
              might
                         still
                                be
                        ­              there

you may not be perfect, but you're perfect for me

Watch as the sun
Slowly slides over the horizon
Leaving behind a touch of
Pearly pinks, dusky purples
And vibrant hues of red
Ah there,
Battered dreams quickly wither
Darkness settles in,
The crystal envoys
Paint a portrait of
Pure serenity



Hope is reborn
Our destinies are within our
Reach as our dreams soon
Come to realization
It's a beautiful ambiance
And the solid gold
Paints over the Eastern side
And it's overwhelming beauty
Is welcomed by those
With expectations of
Bettering their present

On the first night that I met you, I went to sleep trying to remember your face, but I could not make it out.
The only thing, the only feature that came so vividly to my mind were your lips, beautiful as they are, like I know you are.
*Lips that kiss my soul
They are the lips I wish to kiss
Your lips,
So warm that melt my own
Lips that whisper to my ear
The lips I want to hear
Your lips,
Lips with which I fall in love
The lips worth dying for