The leaves are on the trees now,

they're golden green,
reflecting the morning sunshine
so it falls in shining stripes,
split by the shadows of the blinds
you draw.
The sunlight colors your eyelids with happiness,
tickles your lips into curving
into the smile that only spring
can bring . . .

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite...

We've mastered the art of pretending,

our talent is such that we can hide,
even from ourselves,
that we're just lost in the loneliness
of lusting for Love.
The longing for belonging is illustrated on our bodies--
the questions blooming in our violet eyes,
the inky hearts strewn across our skin like so many stars,
lost amongst each other,
shining and dying and shining and dying
and shining.

HEY STARDUST

Y'know how you were talking about liking All Time Low? Well. I'm seeing them on Friday night, I'll think of you when they play :]

How are you, btw? Miss you.

You're the miserable cliche

of how painful and beautiful Love can be. The feelings you induce are the kind that twist your insides in a way that breaks them, the kind that make those ever-present butterflies in my stomach beat their wings so hard and fast that it tears me apart. But in that tearing is a stunningly gorgeous realization that I want to right here, right now, continuously shredded from the inside out more than I want to be anywhere else. Because with this explosion comes a transformation--I change into something ethereal, sharp and sparkling, rose petals of shining ice, breaking in a pool of crimson and gold, frozen and spinning in the intensity of a million scarlet sunrises.

You, my dear, are the inspiration behind the beautiful train wrecks that I secretly aspire to be--adorned in diamonds, surrounded by the haze of cigarettes and the melodies drifting between universes.

You're just as tragic

and beautiful,
as the most elegant suicide.
Drenched in lace and diamonds,
rose petals,
scarlet upon dusky pink.
Feathers upon feathers,
soft and white,
falling in the cloud-smoke tail
of a dove's flight.
Your name is written in the sky overhead,
white like snow,
melancholy, melancholy...
I can't let you go.

This midnight Love poetry,

the constant exchange of
perfection
that only we,
united by words and moonbeams,
can understand.
The desperation to be Loved
and to live...
To run and run
during the summer dusk,
moonlight at our heels,
sunset glowing crimson in the darkness
as we blink.
Indigo skies and crystalline lies--
take my hand
and squeeze three times.

Caught

in the celestial tornadoes of
your words,
your looks,
your fingertips.
Lost and longing for
the pressure of your lips.
Spinning into a blissful oblivion
of Loving you at the speed of light,
hair flying back,
our eyes locked in an
imaginary waltz.
One two three one two three,
hold me 'til sunrise comes and fills the space
that you fill in the moonlight

Exploding into the hazy dusk,

folding in,
a flower in reverse...
Winter Fall Summer Spring.
Midnight plum petals,
reflecting the black holes that suck
light through your pupils.
Pupils surrounded
by sapphire iridescence,
terrible and tranquil.
Pearly teeth and pointy ears,
glass, crimson-stained words.
Sharp and malicious,
whistling and whispering through the air.

Your silhouette

stark against starlit blackness,
dark and shimmering
with a streetlight halo.
I'll run to you,
and press my face to your chest.
Breathe in--
my heart will weep at the scent
of lilacs and emeralds,
emeralds like your fierce,
glowing eyes,
locking me in a jade embrace.
Joining into a trio of
gorgeous stone
with your onyx lashes
and ruby lips.
Your ruby lips.

It's spinning and pure,

a white-orange, like sunset
hitting diamond silver snow.
On the horizon,
dancing with the moon--
tangible, musical...
Shining opalescence,
smooth to the touch
sweet and cold,
frozen spun crystal sugar...

She'll be the one with the tears in her eyes,

the one staring, infatuated,
at the tortured beautiful boy in the corner.
She'll be the one with the ink on her arms,
She'll be the one drumming her fingers
to the beat of those silent symphonies
that you're humming so far away.

It's sad when I think about it--

My mom makes me nervous. Like really, really nervous, and I hate it. I mean, I honestly don't think she's as much of a bitch as I've built her up to be, and I really do Love her. And I know she Loves me too, but it's hard when she's acting like... how she normally acts, to be honest. I mean, I have to talk to her about my math grade for god's sake, how easy is that? but still i know it won't be casual, it'll be like a Discussion, so i practically have BUTTERFLIES from the nerves. i mean, it's TALKING TO MY OWN MOTHER ABOUT SCHOOL, AND IM CHEWING MY NAILS AND KINDA-SORTA FREAKING OUT. how fucked up is THAT? i mean really. i should just stand up to her, next time she's awful [which will be today, because it's every day]. i mean, she doesnt abuse me, she respects my opinion on some level, and she's a nice person, mostly. so many people have it SO MUCH WORSE, mom-wise. i should just fix this, once and for all. i mean, it wouldn't be THAT hard to have a decent relationship with her, would it?

i'm an idiot.

but wish me luck anyway?

Jumping off cliffs, and watching them shrink

into the infinitely expanding, star-strewn sky,
all ice-crystal and diamond-edges,
feeling the wind's invisible ink
pen gorgeous verses and sing them softly,
only to you...
That ice-blue rush below your ribs,
freezing your heart, making it shiver.
An incomparable feeling, amplified by the tickle of the tears
streaming down your face, running through your open lips.

You're In Love.



Disclaimer-thing: The whole idea for this comes from a random Ray Bradbury quote in the introduction of a collection of his short stories-- "Why did I do it? Why did I keep jumping off those cliffs? The answer is an immense cliche: Love."

I know how invisible you think you are,

shrouded in self-doubt,
shrinking further and further
into the walls of that empty,
empty blackness that you've built for yourself.
I know how invisible you think you are.
But you're not, Lovely, you're not--
i can see you, lit up like goldshine snow,
shimmering in the soft, sharp firedust that falls upon you,
shifting and filtering through the dark,
showing how beautiful you are, how full of Love.
I know you can see that shimmer, Lovely,
and i know, i know that you think
you're the only one that can see it.
I know you think that it can only be seen
by those crackling amber eyes,
that it can only be acknowledged
by that tilting, spontaneous half-smile.
I know how invisible you think you are.
But Lovely, you need to know,
you need to know,
just how visible you could be.
When you see those twirling, eternal sun spotlights,
you need to stop thinking that they're for someone else.
They're for you, Lovely.
They're for you.

It would be better

if heartbreak was icecrystal
shattering against steel.
Instant, loud, dramatic.
Not this slow ripping,
this silent pain,
disguised by a mask of
poorly composed nonchalance...

Transfixed on the space where midnight blue melts to nighttime rose,

lost in the sunset flashing
off of sheet-ice windows,
mirrored by your fire
filled eyes.
Dancing shadows,
dark and flitting,
sprint under your eyelids,
blue circles of smoldering ice
chasing them from side
to side.

Stardust (if you're still reading this):

alrighty. so i'm totally being weird today, and i went back and read all of your comments. and then i found "an oxymoron that shouldn't exist, but does". you said it when you were talking about the sparkles in cement, remember?

and then, i was thinking, that in class yesterday, this kid was talking about blacklights.

an oxymoron that shouldn't exist, but does.

i n s p i r a t i o n

• light
• Love
• colors
• people
• you
• windown
• nighttime
• stars
• pens
• movement
• cars
• building
• time
• fountains
• coins
• music
• sounds
• lyrics
• writers
• strangers
• dreadlocks
• leather jackets
• photographs
• cameras
• lists
• keyboards
• freedom
• opinons
• dimensions
• words
• knowing
• blankness
• temperature
• happiness
• sadness
• why the fuck am i writing this?

So um.

I haven't written in a while.

It's a combination of a lot of things, but that's not important.

I'll try harder though, kay? Love you guys.