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.

The Need Part II.

I see your dark form approaching, sheilded from the wind and cold of this December evening.
There's a wall between us, forced conversation, something that should scream "stay away."
The heaviness in the air between us tastes like me and you. It tastes like our scent.
Our sweat. Something missed. Something needed.
The conversation we're having, the tension in voices barely maskes the want to overcome feelings pulsating through us.
You're pressing firmly against the seam of your jeans. My thighs begin to grow warm and wet.
Chest heaving, bodies flushing, the desire we're barely constricting...only social decorum keeps us from having each other in the street.
No one will be watching us...

The Need Part I.

It's nights like these where I try to break out of my body.
I'm venturing, an animal that prowls under the soaking orange sky.
Shivers one through me. Cold. Anticipatory.
I've been begging for you, mind and body, this whole evening. The chemical fuels my desire; I feel my blood desending only to thrive in a place that throbs like my heart.
Inviting, my body prepares for your arrival, before you yourself even arrive.
My legs are pumping, back and forth. That same rhythmic motion to be reenacted.
I don't know what crevice of campus we'll find tonight, where our desires will converge. Against a wall, hopefully. I'd love to feel the harsh tears bound to happen on my back.

I'll Let You Ring My Neck.

I can't get you out of my heart.

Abrupt.

This silver charmless chain
I'm twisting around my fingers
like a beadless rosery.
Which is ironic,
because it seems I don't have a prayer.
It's an accusation I haven't made yet.
Something that eats away,
necrotizing the part of my brain
that has hope in our future.
I'm wearing spots into the base of my nails.
It's a sweet sting on either hand...
I can sigh.
Note the match of silver on my fingers,
and remember you want to be with her.

Don't let the black spot fade
Don't let me see his eyes.
I'm sick of crying these drunk tears,
don't make me comprimise.
I'm sick of laying in our bed
arguing ovet non-moot facts
Over why you want to leave,
When cheap vodka loosens your tact.

Wine Tasting

It's the pre-dawn slumber hour
We'll celebrate my immediate exhaustion
with twin trails of your champagne fingers.
Leaving warm and bubbly pathways underneath the skin of my bare back.
Cheers to us, our privilage.
Our silver knots and all.
I squint my eyes to face you
You blink back at me.
My eyes inhabit a red wine in the dark.
They'll be what steals your gold
and your bubbling heat.
They'll bring us to our drunken stupor
wherein truth
like that heat which spread on my back
is spilled from glass

Observe

Love under light,
a barebulbed light.
Harsh and revealing,
or shadowed in depth.
The shadow may last
longer than the feeeling.

Closet Space

In the closet of my heart,
I've got this broken toy.
He's not a wind up doll,
or a little wooden boy.
They scoffed at him on shelves
Said "he's worthless, look, he's broke!"
So he sat there, collecting dust,
Feeling existance was a joke.
One day I started scanning shelves
To find myself a friend,
And from the back I saw these eyes,
Their questions had no end.
Amoungst his black, they were bright
A sad and sharpened green,
Flecked with gold, rimmed iris dark
The deepest I'd ever seen.
I can't see what they think is wrong
So I take him home with me
I want to tell him everything
Give him something he can see.
He's broken, this toy of mine,
But I think he can be fixed.
I dig inside my closet heart,
but my toolbox is sadly mixed.
There's no one wrench to turn his head,
no screws to hold him tight.
But I love this gorgeous broken toy,
And I will treat him right.
He won't be sitting on the ledge,
watching people shoot him down,
In my arms and close to heart
Is where my broken toy is found.

Sweet Green Eyes

Oh my, sweet green eyes,
You're starkly contrasting the sheets where you lay
Oh my, brown eyes cry,
Hoping your heartbeat at my fingers won't fade.

Oh my sweet green eyes,
For such a long time I've needed today
Oh my, a brown eyed sigh
They'll show you the words that I wouldn't say.

I've spent tonight in your arms, under the light.
A full moon sky, where clouds are too high.
When a bittersweet chill holds us close,
will you forgive me, I'm not one to boast.
But for tonight, in all of it's time, you'll be mine.

Full lips meet on an orange night, the roof
top sky lights illuminating for proof
Where arousal delt out, your body comes in,
Tender embraces in our natural skin.

Oh my, sweet green eyes,
You're starkly contrasting the sheets where you lay
Oh my, brown eyes cry,
Hoping your heartbeat at my fingers won't fade.

Oh my sweet green eyes,
For such a long time I've needed today
Oh my, a brown eyed sigh
They'll show you the words that I wouldn't say.

On Risman Plaza Part II

Play on cobblestones round a fountain
watch water fall at constant speed
but now in the end of warm liquid sun
that penetrates everywhere on me.
girl, take pictures
and hipsters with their sunglasses
usurp my position

Welcome Home

Even someone waiting for the storm
knows that I have to brace the most.
But I'll be the one to survive the flood,
because I stay away from the coast.

Stiffness

Such sweet bruising on my lower back,
From the bodyrocking on solid tables,
And the stiffness that comes
from sleeping against someone all night.

A Shared Prayer

When I lie next to you as you pray,
I'll touch your arms while our hands are clasped.
I'm hoping to gain some redemption.
The fact I'm lying next to you,
in and of itself this deserves atonement.
So as you pray,
I'll pray with you.
I'll hope to be forgiven for our actions.
My heart flutters, I'm fighting a tear.
I'm seeing that someone so worldly,
Someone I know whose struggled,
is still holding onto faith.
It's beautiful.
You're beautiful.
And so I'll pray with you.