"and i was born at the same moment as the sun."

My hand glowing like a moon against his black as night shirt and warm, tough, and tan skin. I want to burrow myself under his think skin and hybernate for the winter. Only coming out in warm weather to smell flowers as he watches me like he always does; Like he's honoured by the thought that i would glance at him once let alone twice.
He looks at me like he's asking, "why am i so lucky as o have you? Why am i so lucky to be your winter cave? Why am i so lucky to feel your warm skin against my walls? Why am i so lucky?"
I only know to smile at such questions. How am i to answer?
Should i tell him it's because i am also lucky to be with him? Do i respond with, "Because something must warm you skin in winter."? Do i respond with, "Because you are a cave that echos love even when i scream hate."? Mabye i should mearly kiss his lips and whisper,"Because you are lucky.".
The wind answers my questions with, "Run away and see what he thinks of luck in comparison with love.".
My child responds with, "I'll be with you forever."
The remainder of my memory wonders how much of a promise has been made? How many times will love and promise echo in the cave before fading out?
My child growls, "None."

your a bit like those cinnamon buns, aren't you?

It's like ur wings were put on upside down.
your lips were sewn shut in ur sleep,
and now you can't eat.
you try to smile,
but the effort goes unnoticed.
since all you can do is move your cheeks
up and down.

you've refrained completely from
all matters of emotion.
No laughter hums from your lungs.
you no longer weep,
since you no longer wail.
whats the point in crying if nobody can hear you?

Then he came with his scythe
and pierced your face.
tell me,
how horrible is life my dear,
when your mouth is given back to you,
yet god gave you no voice?
but he made sure he gave you
what you need to choke
...didn't he?

you saw more red that day
then you ever could've fathomed.

The Selfish Bitch Needs a Vay-k

And i said no
and i said no
and i
said yes
and then regret.
I realized and i
jumped.

Brothern of the cheated
watched my vuneralbility.
St. Nick scolding
my premiscuity.

Ezra springs from her grave
saying, listen
child
since you know not
how to open your
jars
of clay.

I agreed to things
i never would
were i
awake.
I fell asleep thinking of
the future
yet woke
thrashing and gasping about
past passion.

The undignified cock
controlling
that which should
be persuaded not manipulated.

However, whats the difference?
whats the difference mother?
Truth tells me there is
no difference,
because what is done is
manipulation and what
you tell yourself
is that it
was pursuasion.

You are a liar
for your own
self-preservation.

A Little Inspiration For The Warthogs And The Mud

The Boys I Mean Are Not Refined
by e.e.cummings

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs a hat upon her tit
one carves a cross on her behind
they do not give a shit for wit
the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck
who cannot read and cannot write
who laugh like they would fall apart
and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined
they cannot chat of that and this
they do not give a fart for art
they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever's on their mind
they do whatever's in their pants
the boys i mean are not refined
they shake the mountains when they dance

"She's staring at the boys in a way they find suggestive."

I don't want to talk. For once i'm admitting I just want to be held. Laying alone and knowing it'll be that way for a long while. Contemplateing multipule facial piercings. Considering a change of hair color. Either a hole in my eyebrow or a hole in my lip.Either white blonde or midnight black. Either sleep or take 3 times the prescribed painkiller and guage my right ear in a hot shower. I'm leaning towards the latter. Either Excederin or Motrin or tylenol. Either stop asking questions or ask myself why the fuck i feel like this.

more bitter than sweet?

I don't like to cry,but this drowning sensation is thickening. I just want to scream. I'm sick of holding it all in. But i continue to lock it all in. So this drop of clear, salty water that just threw it's self onto the back of my hand is just caused by a leaky ceiling. I'll just blame it on the leaky ceiling. Hey dad, the ceiling is leaking!
But nobody is home.
I could really careless about arcitectual malfunctions, so i'm going to forget about it and try to sleep. Mabye sleeping will become difficult because it seems like there are holes everywhere in this house.
Do we even have a fucking ceiling?
Mabye someone will come home and notice a puddle. Mabye they'll just say leaky ceilings are a part of life.


The Verve- Bittersweet Symphony

lightless

Q: How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb?
A: Only one but the light bulb has to want to change.

I heard this joke and it reminded me of the this time when my heatlamp bulb got so hot that it melted out of the socket. So the glass bulb was laying there on top of my gecko's cage, but the metal connector and all the wires were still screwed in. This then reminded me of myself and how i am a bit like that light bulb. I wanted to be changed so badly i practically fell out of my socket, but only part off me. My ass is still screwed into the warm, familiar socket. so i've got to find some plyers to unscrew the rest of me. To do that I've got to unplug the entire lamp from the wall so i don't kill myself.

I'm still trying to figure out how the last part of my analogy fits into my life at this point.

As Far As You Know

There is MORE TO YOUR LIFE than you EVER thought. There is MORE TO YOUR STORY than what YOU have read.
-Max Lucado