If You Do It

If you climb mountains,

I will start climbing trees.

If you drive your car,

I will drive my red bike.

If you take pictures,

I will draw what I see.

If you do drugs,

I will smoke candy cigarettes and do pop rocks.

If you have sex,

I will start kissing boys.

If you start getting into fights,

I will fight in the schoolyard.

If you sell your body,

I will write my number on the bathroom stalls.

If I see you,

I will have people watch me.

If you do it,

I will too.

Bare Skin

Perfection.

Not a wrinkle, not a single vein.

Not a single goosbump or scar.

Smoothness, fairness.

Uncomprehendable beauty.

Surreal.

Soft as cream,

clean as water.

Pure as white snow.

Naked.

Laying as still as a tree without the summer breeze.

Holding the pose like a marble statue.

Hair flowing, sunshine warming her flawlessness.

This is the epitome of my life's purpose.

This woman, her stillness.

Her perfection.

The bare skin.

Shut Your Eyes

The world is loud, tense, nerve-racking.

How you make it through the day; even you don't know.

Pedestrians cross the streets, never lingering.

The only thing moving at a slow pace is your eyes.

Exhaustion has become a source of offense to this exaggerated existence.

Why must you b so alive, in a world so dead?



Why must you accept tragic ordeals, or chaotic natural occurences, if you cannot accept God?



Your Mouth shuts; no longer tasting, no longer speaking.



Your ears are deaf to the sound of everyday droning of a fucked up world.



Your sense of touch dissolves at the feel of the cold cast iron casket.



Your mind goes numb to the senseless debates; money, war, politics, fuckery.



Finally, as your accepting your fate and your body is ready - a voice speaks from within.

A voice that comprehends what it is you need to do.



Pull away from life all at once.



Just do it;

Shut Your Eyes.

Careful, Love

Careful, Love.
These tender hours, call for a tender thing.A softness, resembling the lightness of whimsical chime in the distance.

Hush, Sweetness.
These breaking pulses from your skin to mine,its a fiery thing.A current, resembling electricty sent from an unexplainable source.

Relax, My Dear.
These plush curvy things on your face, are mysterious things.A burst, of licking flames and chilling breathe sent my mind on a voyage.

Breathe, My angel.
Your body, is a precious cargo.A sight, that sets heaven and hell into conference- for they don't even know where this sinful perfection came from.

Scream, My Heart.
Your rush of exctasy through my roots of masculinity sets my soul into a euphoric frenzy.

Careful, Love.
For the dawn breaks through, my fallen angel.To shine, and illuminate my neverending sight that is set on you and your godliness.

Scrapes and Cuts

Many scars, many wounds.

Many stories about the injuries that I've done to myself.

For many times have I fallen,

For many times have I ran.

Fallen on my face.

Ran and tripped.

Over you,

over him.

Foolish wounds, over foolish reasons.

Over what reason- it is clear that reason didn't exist to my blurred eyes.

Blinded by love,

cut by affection.

Tossed by care,

tricked by tenderness.

Scrapes and cuts,

falling and running.

Thats all it ever is,

thats all its ever been.

Perhaps I fell too fast,

maybe i fell too sudden.

But i know i fell- on my face.

How did i get all these scrapes and cuts?

these scars and wounds?

Each one holds a different tale, a different twist.

But its all because of the same girl, the one with the blurred vision

the flimsy feet and the complusive instincts.

the one with the scraped knees

and cuts on her hands.

Call Me Insane

Apparently I’m insane.

I am too patient, people have claimed.
If you test the waters with me, they will be calm and still.

According to some, I’m mad.

I don’t crack under pressure, people have stated.
I have competed with Atlas, and I too can carry weight on my shoulders.

Apparently, I’m strong.

How have you not snapped? My friends ask.
Could it be that brick wall that I built, to block out people’s bashing?

According to some, I’m odd.

You aren’t a normal teen, people have declared.
The lifestyles of the Drunk and Foolish have never appealed to me.
Yes
Very odd.

They claim I’m odd, mad, insane;
So be it.

Toss me a straitjacket.