I appreciate travelling
the blur of a road
the burning of a sun
and the smell of the rain

I appreciate the wind breathing new life into my soul
and the prospect of growing tired and old

But if travel means moving
moving away
and there I go pushing out further from you
then a statued stance is what I will withhold
from now until the end of time
and the road will never blur
nor the sun burn away
nor the rain fall
nor the wind sway me back
nor will my heart wither and die

You are not a person,
******* it,
you are a nebula.
You don't have skin
you have island universes of stars
and your hands aren't hands
they're the whole ******* solar system branched out through your fingertips.

I can't look at you
without feeling like I'm spiralling through your galaxy
without losing breath
because after all
there's no oxygen in space

But the worst part is your eyes
those great opal voids
your infinite ******* chasms
that engulf me every time

And I always thought I'd be scared in space
like it's too big, too empty, too unexplored
but here I am
floating
not scared at all

The way to my heart is through my heart, *******.

This world is big
and I am small
yet my troubles still stand ten feet tall
here I lie in a broken jungle
lay down those leaves like you laid down me
and all I want is these trees to be broken down
it's the only natural destruction I'd be happy to advocate

I have no tools
where are my tools
I need them now

But now I remember
I threw them away last month
when I told myself I didn't need them anymore
when I said to myself that it didn't matter anymore
that the white lines that lie on my hips and drew blood when I opened them
didn't matter
anymore

But they do
they matter now
and I need my tools back
I need my hand shaking when I flip open the sharp end
I need the colour red to neutralize the blue in my eyes
I need them back again
more than I did last month