Black List.

Clinging to daily rituals to draw me a false smile,
I have painted a desperate laughter upon myself about the way you view me.
Sarcasm is spewing from my mouth on overdrive with every word becoming an exaggeration with more and more elastic accuracy.
It's almost as if i have expanded the capacity of the word truth so far, that I have taken a word with strict boundaries and curved them without breaking definition.
I am finesse with my words,
Accurate to my perceptions and judgments.
A dangerous time to be my target,
A dangerous time to be my fantasy.
My compassion for an acceptance of other's opinions in love has been locked up.
I can see my desires for the little things cowering in the most eerie crevasse of my mind.
They are crying with dire fear of my seriousness.
"Cry Desires,
Cry."
The liquid shell has been poured on the ice cream,
and now its only a matter of time,
a matter of time,
before I harden, and devour myself.
Spoon feeding my own mind with delicious bites filled of everything I wanted to believe in you.
Feasting down on that every perception I had of you, that little secret that lurked the back of my mind, the tiny spark that triggers when I first experience things.
Intuition.
I tried to stuff you in the closet of my brain, and shut it hard every time you took a peek at a new experience.
Be my friend again,
Show them we can be friends again, and own this place.

First Dates Taste Like Sarcasm

There is a sandbag tied to my ankle, and I have just had the pleasure,
of watching it be tossed off an airplane.
What a sight!
There she goes,
spiraling to the dissipated mesh of land and sky I see below me.
She goes fast, doesn't she?
It is my curiosity that leads me to lean over the edge, and watch this flawless, fate-deciding object dissolve from my vision.
My head peeks from the open door. 
The rope chases the sand,
the sand chases the ground,
and the ground wants my misery.
Down and down they go,
the distance grows, making best friends with the ground.
Shapes of 'S's' and 'W's' and 'Z's' just hurl themselves out of the plane.
Goodbye i say to the rope as if it has nothing to do with me.
But i look down and observe a knot tied to my ankle.
Normally,
I
Am
Fine.
But today, i don't have a knife, so...
i will be ejected.
There's really nothing to it,
i just sit and wait for my demise.
I mean...
it's that simple,
I never thought it would be so easy to plummet to the ground,
if I would have known before, i would have done this sooner.
We should do this again sometime,
really we should.
And I am tossed like a weak salad for being the nerd on the football team.
I look up at you, enjoying your time spent above me.
You wave,
you smile,
you giggle.
This is fun.
We should do this again sometime

Silver Sailboats & Necklaces

I see it there, sitting there,
alone.
alone and closed,
damaged.
damaged hard and sheltered.
Hiding.
Why would anyone want to view the flower's beauty if it's closed.
Black and white huh?
Is that how you view this?
I remembered seeing vivid colours of yellow, reds, and violets.
Tall carpal,
anthers spread like a tight, warming hug.
How many bees did it take?
Flying in like a 1925 kamikaze predator.
One after another,
Bombing your heart with tastes of the outside world,
Preparing their landing from the other side of the phone.
Gunning down pollen with a selfish mischief,
satisfaction is fulfilled, but presented as a lie.
But i liked that about you...
You were rare,
you trusted.
you allowed.
you gave.
They flew in with direction,
direction you couldn't see.
You were rare,
you couldn't see.
They damaged your colour,
they stripped your pollen,
and they left you.
I watched it all,
i watched you fall.
before all this,
you stood tall.
And the most amazing feat of morbid destruction sequenced like a bat out of hell...
You invited December.
You calloused from the stem up.
You brought hibernation,
and you closed.
Pedals are dull,
stem is clear.
No longer do you posses your soft honey smell,
but a putrid,
tasteless,
aroma of mental damages and forced smile.
Your lips don't budge,
tongue held captive; ransom at an unreasonable price...
A price i want to pay.
Maybe i cant stand winter?
But if i have to, i will dig you up,
roots and all.
And plant you where the clouds wont shrill,
the wind stay still,
the sunshine hill.
Open for me,
where is your colour?
I have my shovel.
I have my pail.
Here i come.