i write like a five year old.as we were driving, a satellite sent me urgent messages to be a home for you. they were hidden in commercials for new houses. the messages said they needed to be sold now now now and filled with people eating and loving and sleeping and leaving it and coming back. everyone needs a home. i turned off my radio because i don't want you to be reminded of what you don't have.it was quiet then. i liked the silence, because i can listen to you breathing. if we were silent long enough, i can imagine your warm breath filling up the car, mixing with mine, until what was inside of me could be inside of you. i think you would find that creepy, so i promise myself never to tell you. you hate silence, and a wave of irritation crossed your face. it is fascinating. i almost hit a car, watching.watching you.i parked and we walked. i walk too fast for most people, and it's annoying because i don't slow down. i expect others to speed up to my pace, or risk becoming a blur in the past. you are not like
i am being empty i am point byou are likea communications towerdirecting signals across an oceanto radio receivers on the other side. andyou are beautiful.there are two kinds of people in this world:people like you andpeople like me.you are like two grammes ofsodium nitrate in my bloodstream.so small and so subtlein terms of volume,but nevertheless killing me.
this is the endwe stood still and watched the earth rush towards us.the train tracks looked like a ladder,ever star a step. life stole so much.every passing moment greeted by another. fluidand constant motion, escaping from our grasp.stay close, and we are time ticking. we are passion. for once,we are not afraid.what for, you asked. why anything.your eyelashes spoke symphonies, systematic and it sent me shivering.how could i be so hollow and so full? i am nothing that you are.i've seen many dusks and few dawns.there are mountains i hate and birds i envyand stones i throw. i wish for morehands to hold. i only love one thing thatcan't contain me or i contain it. i feel electricityin palms and fingertips, and it's pulsing. it's brilliant. it's killing me.my breath is stale. i am lost,but in the darkness you felt familiarand i just want you to hold me for a while.the train will swallow us, whole,if we're lucky. look deep into the blindinglight and step forward. this is ourlast breat
when you paintI am fightingto be a building burning to the ground.you are a lover. you are my lover.you have cans of gasoline.you have matches.you have no causeand no pity.I am alight.
obsessionsstone manyou don't look me in the eyes anymore.and sometimesI really wish you did."come alive (I want to be someoneyou could live for. I want to beyour reason.) move.anything, please. just once,just for me."(I carved you to besomething beautifuland I can destroy you into something better.with a hammer in a heavy hand,you'll be in pieces scattered aroundand I'll never be alone again.)stone manI made you a stone heart.and stillyou can'tlove me.
directionas life grows coldI head for distance.wandering dusksettles on my shoulders,searching for it's beginningand my end.I'm so tired. I needyour warmth.(some nightsI sketch your handsto remember the lightfor a whileeverything is good.)
make new friends, keep the oldI have many friends,and they are lonely.They like alcoholand cigarettesand pills and powder and fuckingand they don't like being toldwhat not to do.they are poorthey are nicethey have each otherand that's enough(until they need more.) they say I'll be an alcoholic.they say I'll become a chain smoker.they say I'll live in a shitty apartmentand all I will do is write.(I ask them when the fuckapathy became an emotion. they don'thave an answerfor that one.)I say we all die eventuallyand being a writer is terribly cliché wayto do just that.They ask me for more money.I give it to them, usually. I don't care.I don't need lonely friendsbut they need me.
spaceI sank.the worldlooks betterdown here.empty. dark.quiet.my ghosts can'tfind me.this is my placemine alone.(until the day I need to breathe.I hopeI neverdo.)
soundwavesradio towerscounting hoursfor every static lettertransmitterand make-shiftladderlike fingersflying downspinesrealignedlike thoughtsstumblinglike watches andwindowstumblingand electric timetickingrhyming and lying(I lied) tied,side by sideby myself.
five things they don't teach you in highschool1.it's okay to fall in love.i mean, they tell you you're never goingto marry your high school sweetheart and i'm not goingto tell you it's a liebecause it's not. you guys will probablybreak up and is gonna hurt like hellbut you'll be okay. remember, you are not the only onewho has felt loneliness like a knife,the only one to know the pain of lungs collapsingbecause they were your air,and you will never be the only one who whispered"i love you" two lives too soon.you will not be the last one to have tuckedhair behind their ear and leaned in for a kissor the last one to wake up reaching for a hand that's no longer there.but it's okay.2.your favorite book will not always be your favorite.like you, it will change over timeto something unrecognizablethat gives you only a vague nostalgia in the tips of your fingers.flipping through the pages will neverfeel the same again.you will learn to love something new;your next favorite will teach you something about you
/ boy // boy come into world / baby boy / blue boy / boy with shadow /boy son / brother boy / boy with god in eyes / boy in story / boy in this story / this story / this boy /this boy grows up / boy in china shop life / boy is bull / stubborn boy / boy with thick skin / bad boy / boy is bad / boy in bad world/ boy in men's suits / boy in man suit / boy with no face / boy wears another/ boy wears skin too tight / broken boy / boy of glass/ boy in own head / boy in sad body/ boy oh boy / oh boy / oh boy with a mouth / boy with big mouth /loud boy / boy of spit & gas / boy of no words /boy of smoke / boy looking back in broken mirror /boy climb into bottle & can't get out / boy lose himself in sea of mouths /boy lose himself in stranger's legs / boy been lost since birth/ found this out along the way/ boy with wandered eyes / boy with too little time / you boy /all out in cold / boy now in dead winter / here boy / come in /boy makes home inside / boy with crown or noo
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisDo not assume (if I hold the door for you),that I am making a statementabout your inabilitiesto open the door for yourself.If you hold it for me,I'll say 'thankyou'.Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),that I am underestimatingyour earning capacityas a woman.If you invite me out for a meal,you're paying.Do not assume (if I defend your rights),that I am belittlingthe attempts that you have madeto defend your rights yourself.If you defend my rights,I'll consider you human.
Brown Eyes Compliments, and AnalogiesBecause I'm sick of people saying there aren't any.Your brown eyes are like the deep intoxication of campaign wine, bubbling with hazing richness and expensive taste.Your brown eyes are like the color of mahogany wood- comforting and home-steady toughness that lets me know you will be the beams of supporting me.Your eyes remind me of Dove chocolate, smooth, creamy, delectable, and melting.The color of brown eyes remind me of mountain terrain and nature, something subtle, but beautiful in every form and season.Brown eyes make me think of Devil's cake, taunting and tempting, curtained by black lashes, the symbol of rich seduction.When brown eyes delve in love, they become the color of a leather book, promising a story of loyalty, long-life, and devotion.Your brown eyes remind me of mysterious secrets, dark to cover the pain of ignorance, opaque to cover to want of another.Brown eyes are like the stable ground, steadier and prepared to embrace you when you fall, into a nurturing a
i watched you set, suni.today we put our sparksto restand our scarslet festerarcing towardrestorationinhysterical cadencelest we make sensethese shardsmeasure outour unmakingand arrestour achingii.when your torsosplashes up withcertain fashionand your wrists turnfast with a furioustractionand your spiralsgive birthto undeniable fawnevery chiralmolecule in imperfectflauntthese are the momentsyou outlastall wantand in the nextmy reasonsdauntiii.grim flutterof lover lipsunder coversstutteringin morose gripsand drunk sufferflustered thunderand dumb tonguesgust ruddyand rumblenone musterfrom the rubbleiv.there was a timethat my fragmentsalignedand before thati wasn'tshattered
Insanity needs companyand now I’m stuck here,pondering,how the walls becamea veiny sight-(could the cause be me calling outyour namein the middle of the night?)and alone I stand here,wondering,how my feet gotnailed upon this floor-(do you hold my ankleslike an anchordoes the shore?)and I know it’s been thirteen yearssince you were here at all,according to the hash marksdrawn in chalkupon the wall,but I can’tlet goof our memories,that hauntme everydayso for now,I’ll let the doc declare: Insanity needs company.
catching upI'm spent andsitting. broke and bleeding.within my memories,your hands arecaught.I can't forgetwhat time forgot.