Shake it off/lasts night's disgusts and empty bottles

Tear off the ridiculous clothes and break the smiles

There's gotta be more than these wasted minutes

Spent on a stool and in front of all these fools

There's something about the stars tonight

I'm hoping to see something new

It all goes away so fast for anything to last

It's gone all too quickly and we're left with....

up late

i have been keeping things nice and tidy in here for quite some time

and then something like this comes my way

and i can't keep it together any more

and i'm falling apart at the speed of light

yes you fall apart in front of me

achilles isn't the only one

everything comes falling down around

burn it

burn it

burn it to the ground

let there be nothing left

let me melt with the cement that layed with me

for these centuries

making my bed with the dead

ones

i had grown happy with the dust

and the corners

and the rotting pages

melding my bones into the moldings

and at the speed of breath

you stood there

and all i could do was make calculations

of how much space I could put between us

before i completely lost it

and could no longer keep it together

you have no clue how hard it was to look away

to hold ground and

to let fate stop it's bottled letter and sail on

my god, all this for you. what am i thinking? what am i becoming? have i been relegated to some desperate late-night jostling with keyboards in hopes of pinning you down in between spaces and words?

what are you doing woman?

Let It Go.

the science of secrets

the science of secrets

the science of the the present

the science of too many what ifs

the science of let downs

you were too sweet, honey

a little bitter, ill-timed memory

little fish, you are too far gone

to make you mine

Musings on a lover

He who paints the upper echelons of the stars

with his feminine lips and begs me to suffer

for a simple glance, a touch, a sliver of gold

He who carries Michaelangelo under

furrowed underarms

and charms sorrowful magicians out of terrible

secrets

My love is the ghost of renaissance oils loosed upon

Ottoman carpets

grinding themselves into the backs of their

lover occupants

My love is the corpse upon which dark irises make their

beds, where grasses keep their basements,

and where time ceases it's dreadful

song

My love wears a crown of thorns caught in his wild hair. They cut deep and burrow themselves past thought

**Disclaimer: I've been reading A LOT Keats and Thomas.

Jeans

Sweltering summer hues

and too many

I wish I loved yous