no words needed

She’s addicted to body language....
mental connections,
nervous laughs
and shakey hands,
The way you stumble
over your words
when you speak to her.

She’s addicted to the way
you look at her knowing
you can’t touch her
because shes forbidden,
and you’re afraid
to make the first move...

Do or Don’t

Caged in this world.
They call it life.
Everyday struggle.
Fight or flight.

Truth #521

I am a complex mixture
of spice and darkness.
Not many can handle me,
I’m an acquired taste.

write right.

a dirty mind
is a terrible
thing to waste,
so write it down...

ungrateful

i’ve had too many men
put their hands around my neck
and demand i be grateful
for the necklace.
perhaps that’s why
i’ve never been
impressed with jewelry.

pages

he gently traced up my spine
like i was his most cherished book
and god i love to feel him read...

underworld

would people like you more or less if they could see inside you?

time

a wise man said

you can never go back
.
the shifting sands of time

have covered up the track
to what 
you remember
to be true
the pain of the past

is something
 one
can never undo
you just wear it like a scar

it defines who you are

the fort

We built serotonin cities
under blanket forts
and declared reign of our kingdom,
high on the feel of skin on skin.

no definitions

“What defines you?” they always ask.

“Nothing. A definition excludes the possibility for change.”

radio waves

We talk until our
mouths are dry
and lips are cracked,
spilling our greatest fears,
distilling our hope,
and dissecting why
bad things happen.
But it just leaves me
more exhausted,
ears bleeding
and mind numb.
It’ll be exactly
the same tomorrow.
The knife will still cut
with the same precision.

imbalanced

The stillness of night
has the power to abduct me,
carrying me away
to a place where I’m
peaceful and calm.
The ripples of the water
reminds me that
all things in life
come in waves,
ebbing and flowing
with no perfect balance.

spilled ink

We write because we have no idea how else to express what we hold inside. We emote the deepest thoughts, scattered and incoherent, imagining the symbols that most portray what we feel. Often times, we cannot find the words to convey what tortures us, inspires us, scares us and drives us, but we spill our ink trying to capture it. We write because we need to, because a different world exists inside our mind, it’s beauty and darkness begging to be shared. We write because we have nowhere else to go but to the paper lying in front of us.