Blood.

I used to wish that when I had cramps that I could just slice myself across the waist with a knife and let all the pain just drain out. Or when my bursitis in my hip acted up that I could stab a long hypodermic needle into the bursa between the joint and just puncture the inflated thing and pull all the hurt out. If I could make a large incision, or cause a catastrophic injury what I was feeling inside, the nervous pain, would leave. It was in the blood or the bursa fluid. It wasn't a sensation, but a physical presence. Microscopic, but existing. Like a kidney stone, how it calcifies into an impossibly small, spiky piece of protein. That's how I see pain. Sharp, tiny shards that invade my body and are a real, physical presence.
Now they congregate like magnets. Now the pain is weighted and brings my body down. The injuries, no matter how catastrophic or meaningful they may be, they don't or can't get rid of this weight. This idea in my head violates all medical knowledge that I've attained, but it can't be shaken. Now the injuries are replaced.
I use antidepressants to dissipate the weight. It breaks it apart, dissolves it, redistributes it. The drugs destroy my sense of tact, and my ability to either cry or smile. I'm unemotional, and point blank honest. But therein lies the problem, even by inflicting this upset on others, it doesn't leave me. It's only represented in words and actions. It's a shallow imitation. Understand yet? That's okay.
Only one person does.

I Do.

Sterling silver symbols,
Sincere and simple.
Penetrated by my fingers and neck.
Chain changed to choke me?
Ring riddled to rule thee?
Potential to force us to wreck.
No, not "never" or
Nods to a "no more."
I'm fighting as hard as I can.
Honey, hold on!
Heal heartache, it's gone.
I don't need a boy, but a man.

Over the Stars

Let's start with my looks...
shouldn't be too hard.
*tick*
Well, the Aero clothes can go,
didn't want 'em anyway.
Sell 'em, get some money.
Hot topic? Black band shirts!
New, skinnier jeans.
*tick*
Well, the pink makes my eyes pop, but
A more nude makeup is in order.
Translation, barely any.
Except eyeliner. Soft grey. Black sometimes.
*tick*
The hair? Well, it needs edge.
Edge! Shorten to shoulders and blunt to layers.
Dye it dark again.
That wasn't so hard.
*tick*
iPod.
Gaga, guilty pleasures galore.
No more pop synth tracks or hip hop beats.
Torrent, download screams and pain and angst.
Not too hard.
*tick*
Quick, Tim! Show me what a "Far Cry" is...
No, wait...Sarah! I know he can trust you...
What's "Gears of War"?
Teach, teach! Adapt me!
Spin my hands at the 360.
Not too hard.
*tick*
Close...no...distant! Yes.
Hide affection, apathy. No caring.
No surrend-*tick*-er...
Too Hard.
My clothes!
*tick*
My looks!
*tick*
My music!
*tick*
My interests!
*tick*
My essence!
*tick*
What do you do when *tick*
You know how to change
But you're fighting the clock?
*ticktickticktick*
STOP.
....is he gone...?

It was a Day

It was a Night
Where I arrived in a panic of the early morning
And we didn't sleep till sunrise.
It was a Morning
Where I woke up with and without you
Warm hugs and pancakes.
It was a Day
Where I wandered a stranger,
But felt like a princess.
There was a Night,
Where blistering heat made us sigh
And the sounds of the birds made us laugh.
It was a Morning
Where a sun rose and I awoke to your kisses
Sandwiches and plans in the sun.
It was a Day
When you began to step into your future
And I stepped into your past.
It was an Evening
Where I faced intimidation only to be surprised
And felt kisses and cold concrete on my knees.
It was a Night
Where a loose cap on a bottle
Gave my pop a bit of a zing.
It was a Night when I left you...
But you gave me a reason
For there to be a Day.

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Death of a Frequency

With the sudden seizure of just how alone you'll be...
I could never let you come back to me...

But I'll always wish that you will..

Spider's Silk

My artist eye destroys you,
picks out every pit of your skin,
the way your lips dominate your face,
or the rough texture of your back.
My lover eye forgives you,
glosses over the physical flaws,
and instead picks up on the depth from your eyes.
Or how when you're alone next to me,
your form changes in context.
You pray and your chest sinks in,
your collarbone screaming against your flesh.
It makes you look so frail
when you surrender your mind to God.
But once your hands break and you cross,
you roll over towards me and you're powerful.
Shoulder's broaden and you are my protector.
Like blood has invigorated your soul.
You are spider's silk.
Strong as any steel made by man,
but if the right fingers touch you,
you will break.

Propaganda

To miss you says nothing of my soul.
To feel so lost, and have no control.
The ache that spreads through hand and head
Heart beat radical, the spirit's dead.
I can't see a scene of skin to skin
My eyes can't handle another's sin.
Lips on lips give tears to my eyes,
Just the snow gives reason to cry.
I need what words cannot describe,
a place within you, a place to hide.
A reconvergence of our minds,
An open heart with love confined.