ExistenceI guess, I existthe faint medidn't enter all exits.A bit lessmy life's a mistno need to fleesans toolkits.
SerenadeHow long will it takefor me to hear the song you madeto hear those rhymes againand lines, yes, the ones you composedThey were like lettersaddressed to mePost scripts shyly telling:"I love you"And the lines weredressed with a melodylike smooth waves.
Wanna Trade?Hey wanna trade?I'll give you my heartFor your smileThey're both so pure So beautifulI think its a fair trade.Hey wanna trade?I'll give my virginityFor your wordsBoth feel so sweetBoth make us happyI thinks its a fair trade.Hey wanna trade?I'll give you my trustFor your liesBoth feel so trueBoth feel so realI thinks its a fair trade.Hey wanna trade?I'll give you my tearsFor your devotionBoth feel so heavy Both feel so unwantedBy each of usI think its a fair trade.Hey wanna tradeI'll give you everythingFor your heartYou already have twoMine and yours.Please?I think its a fair trade.
She who destroys the lightfirst seedDarling, you and I both knowin a better world I could be your Lethewrap around you, drown youerode everythingthat ever tried to bring your fate down on you.Still if I picked up the piecesI'd hear their soft humthe one shells moan for the seafor even then there would be places in youstill not free.second seedSurely women must have learned by nownever to trust fruit.A garden is a prison earnedand there is nothing satanic, nothing sacredabout hunger.Yet when your body curls in on itselfseduced by not-seeds that need only thirst to rootyou find your lips wetand what might be blood or juicebecomes the same as sweat.third seedYour skin is singingI swear, hymns to the colorsthe way the world's ringing hurts your earsthe salt of the Dead Sea come alive in your tearsthe smell only in the sky as the rain clearsthe poppy-eyed bud people who spend yearswalking around, faces turned toward the lightthrusting pomegranate crownf
I love... and hate being a writerI hate being a writeryet I love it toothough such ambiguous feelingscannot be explained so simply... I loathe the unsterilized inkwhich continually poisons my veinsand pumps from an all too emotional heartyet when this ink is set freebreathed from my syringe of a quillI'm assailed by such a breathtaking senseof relief and release that I forgetand become intoxicated on my own vile.I abhor my blank eyeswhich so incoherently delude me as to what is realthat I am faced continuallywith the realization that reality will never be enough for meand yet these blank eyes are the sameon which I paint such beautiful fantasiesand experiences which I faithfully adore.I detest the imagination which hosts menial plays with unwritten roles and spitfire linesand asks me to fill the holes
SelkieLover,shed your skin and let me hide itunder my bonesand all these little conversationsthat are so normal, so awfully normalI know you would swim away,drift like a thoughtThe limestone shores call out for you(you'd fall throughthe gaps in my hands)So let me skin you, lover,let me strip you barehide your skin so you wouldn'tfleeLover,If the Sea turns his back on youif you wouldn't have a homecome to me, Unloved,for my arms areall for you.
Bull in the China shopI don't know if finding someoneis an option for me.Like the bull in a china shopI was meant to bewith no one.Because I break them,others' beautiful core -no more I want to see red:color of blood and love.