PoisonYou make me want you more than anything else in the world.Because, fuck it,I'd drink a glass of poisonIf I knew it would taste like you.And I'd walk the 1,123 miles it would take to youIn a heartbeat,Even though Google tells meIt would take me 364 hours to do so.I would set fire to my plans,To my life,To feel the passion burn next to you.And to hold your face,Once rough yet smooth in mine,I'd pay any price I'd have to pay.There isn't a person I won't tell off when they try to stand in my way.Because I've picked my poison.
What I Can and Cannot DoI can write longer lines and make your brain forget to breathe.I can insert a comma, or a period. I can control you.I can make your mind spin like mine is spinning ifI use enjambment and there you are not breathing again andI have nothing better to do with my time than control yours.But I can't control me.I have no grasp on what is real and what is not.I have no security blanket to cover my flaws from the naked... eye.I cannot bear this confusion, andI cannot treat what I do not understand.But you can control me.I can trust you to keep me sane.I can trust you to keep me whole.I can trust you to keep me strong, andI can trust you to keep me weak at the knees.But you can't trust me.I can't trust myself to hold you.I can't trust myself to wipe away the troubles that you've faced.I can't trust myself to stand in your presence.I can't trust myself to be enough for you.But I hate myself for that.I know I'll try to be,I know I'll always strive, and I know I'l
jumbled ideas of loveShe can't.She won't.No matter the reason, there's no way she does.The idea? Absolutely.She loves the idea.She cherishes itAnd feeds it to sheep,The dependent and the trustful.She never did.She never can.She never will.Her ideas of it are sparse.She has experience in pleasure,And a degree in fun.But her words are wrongHer words are untrueHer words aren't there...They're jumbled. the idea. the function of itI can't take hold.The words and letters!They don't make sense in context,But I assure you they're there.i'm losing sightof the road aheadi'm drowning in the delusions.downhill i have becomeincoherentlonelyundecipherable.i am donewith your ideasof love
ParabolaYou deserve my full attention.The curve of your forearm,And imagining it around my waistStartles and distracts me from reality,Reaching, tearing apart my linear functionAnd forming a parabola.You are the only one capitalizing my time.The shape of your lipsAnd picturing them on mineShakes and forgives the past unbroken,Rethinking, shifting away from what was once straightAnd creating a parabola.You promise me a future.The camber of your shoulders,And visualizing the position you use to laughExtrapolates and destroys the meaning of my existence,Bending, relinquishing me of this flat-line lifeAnd generating a parabola.You secure my mark in humanity.The arc of this reality, this existenceAnd picturing your reality with mineDismantles and eliminates everything I thought was real,Deflecting, deviating my own thoughtsAnd producing a parabola.
Awakening from Paralysis Your whispers in the night bring her down;They drag her down to the dungeons and take from her the crown.The crown is all this beauty had in the world,But it was after you took it that her real journey unfurled.You took her to the steaming hot bath,And watched as her back arched under your wrath.Now all she wants is to find her true love - One who will not be neglectful ofHer needs to be touched with a softer handThat will stop in an instant with a quiet command.The dream itself is totally free,But the journey is indeed sold separately,For she has traveled through tunnels of fire and sootFor coming down your chimney, no shoe on her foot.She whispers quite solemn to her pillow too roughThat she's done entirely and had enough.She reaches for her water kept next to her bed,And beats herself to death, ending with her head.Into a deep sleep her eyes engageUntil her true love wakes her from this stageOf fear and uncertainty that strains this quiet missOnly to be awa