I am caught, in your eye,
and I drown, in your tectonic wave.
You rattle, intimately,
for me, and shake...

You shift,
minutely,
soundlessly,

collapsing, into sprawling patterns,
into formulaic strains, of madness.
Then you madden, me, as you cascade,
into beautiful, and brilliant shades:

Your Rorschach mosaics,
in prismatic hues.
Each gemlike, facet, of YOU, that is you...

Burning out my gaze,
with your radiance,
as you irradiate...

I'd give anything...to label each color,
that infuses, your face...

Scattering trickles of light,
and roseate shapes...

as if your soul,
were a treasure trove,
of the most precious jewels.

Your vibrant emeralds...
your smoky citrines...
your sapphire blues...
your ruby reds,
and your royal amethysts, too

You twist, in my hands...
and, under the light,
I turn, and return, too,
if only to seek,
a fleeting glimpse...of you.

I don't think, I really want this...

But surely, I
still have the eyes, to perceive
that she's the kind of,
fever dream
that makes grown men, and women,
lament, and weep

for the way, her jeans
gather round, her knees, and thighs--
for the way, her eyes...
pay homage, to the ancient skies...

would you take...a ride?
And, hey...would I...?
I don't think I might...

but she asserts her swerve,
with a certain sway,
and her curves,
would serve,
as hors d'oeuvres,
for days.
Her fruity lips...
with a sparkle glaze

they trickle...dark...as marmalade.
But if harvested, late...
what's their carnal taste?

...Is she the mark, on the grave,
by which, I think...I know myself?

No...I don't think I really want this...

not a shiver, runs through me.
But, sue me...for looking,
when she's so ******* juicy...
does it consume me?
Does it titillate me?
...I don't feel me, hyperventilating?

What if she turned, to face me?
To lay me, lace me
between her thighs...
internalized; eternal lies,
to sate me,
with her flavor, to bait me
acerbic, and savory...
Her skin, burning, like a lamp wire,

and her fingertips, debasing me.
What if I, was her vampire,
and she,
the one slaying me?
A slaking queen...
aching to break, her thirst...
so, what if I staked her, first...?
Would she mortify,
like ash?
Or would she forge, a lighted path,
and make me wish,
she had, forced...my hand?

No...I don't think I really want this...

not a shiver, runs through me.
But, sue me...for looking,
when she's so ******* juicy.

i think i was meant
to be a flower --
maybe a tulip.
soft,
sunlit,
open.
but i spent
way
too
long
wilting away
before i even got the chance
to bloom.

there were summers
i didn’t feel.
playgrounds i left
way too early.
and dresses i never wore
because i didn’t feel pretty --
or skinny enough
to.

i wanted to run
along the beach
with my group of friends,
laughing,
smiling.
but i was too shy.
too scared
they’d make fun
of the way i run.
so i didn’t go.

i’m only fifteen,
but some days
i feel like
my petals
already fell.
like i was just
too late.

and maybe one day,
i’ll grow again --
maybe as an orchid.
maybe softness
isn’t something you miss,
but something
you return to.

I am one of many
Small branches of a broken tree,
Always looking to the ones above
For guidance, strength and security.
One little branch trying
To keep the others from breaking away.
Who will fall?
And who will stay?
Now I stand alone,
Looking at the earth through the rain,
And I see the broken branches I knew
Scattered about me in pain.
There are those who have taken an ax
To the root of our very foundation
And who have passed this destruction
Down to every new generation.
If I could take that ax,
I would toss it deep into the sea,
Never to return again
To harm the generations that follow me.
I am one of many,
But alone I will go
And plant the new seeds
Where a beautiful tree will grow.

trying to sleep without you --
is like the depths of hell
the big fires,
the scary people.

i can't get comfy.
my body burns,
aches even,
it itches
without your warmth.
without your touch.
i feel like --
im burning alive

this is the worst it gets,
right?
unable to sleep alone,
unable to cope alone,
needing you with me,
just to quiet my brain
enough
to finally get
some shut eye.

you were always
something oceanic --
pulling,
never touching,
loud
but somehow
without sound.

i had never learnt
how to swim,
but i waded into you
like i wouldn’t drown.
even though i couldn't swim.
i waded anyway,
like softness
could save me.

you had looked at me
like a wave
right before it breaks --
beautiful
confident
but too full
of something
it cannot hold.

i should’ve known.
even low tides leave salt.
even still,
quiet, gentle water
it pulls you under
if you stay too long.
especially if you stay too long.

but gosh,
you were just so --
blue.
and i was so incredibly
willing,
to just let you in
to let myself drown,
slowly losing myself.