sistemglytch

nagging nasal thoughts sprawling, roughshod, through brainpool splashes of worry, rampant trains derailed every which way-- perfect gray surface-calm notwithstanding, it's a mess in here, screaming windblown words unintelligible and loud, jarring consciousness and dreams alike until sleep is more jagged than real. resounding clash of letters not fitting together, and the whole wide internet (the other end of the line) echoes with an emptiness i've seldom heard outside myself-- blue-strewn melancholic notes, half riff, half lament. consuming white noise, careless beats of outflung hand and heart, artless and forlorn: meanin

He tastes like violence, bright-dark and dangerous, like tomorrows I never thought to own-- crashing along, freewheeling through blackout nights that hum now with his presence: he's all I never knew to want, and more. Plucked, I resonate, and see how my world has narrowed to his dark-timbred voice, satyr hair, to feral eyes that claim me in whispered tidal waves of multi-hued desire, like letting go, like coming home. His hands are bridges, and his lips are passion; his movements are a symphony, poignant and serene, and mine, all mine-- as I am his, from tantrums to poetry.

Dear boy who meant the world: Once upon a time, I looked at you and saw a god; and when you finally touched me, I knew that I was yours. I followed you to every shadowed place, and you only shone brighter, my darkness swallowed by something I wanted even more. There were days when every edge glittered, with promise or with pain, and it felt like destiny, like a secret I'd always known was there but could never comprehend. I've never felt safer than wrapped in arms I knew could crush me. And crushed I am, breath ripped away, eyes blinded by waves that swell and overcome, senses flown, drowned in desperate prayers that never reach my lips--y

hesitating i falter, stumbling on all i've never known how to say-- so many words at my disposal, once i could turn pain into passion, and passion into something durable and real. but in the face of everything i've always felt between us, i'm speechless, robbed of everything i want to say and do, of what i meant to be. and i love you like freezing to death, like drowning, like the fear that circles the edges of consciousness; like a sickness and its cure together; like something i know will kill me. if i were to write an ode to pain, the only word would be your name, endlessly repeating, every syllable stealing

you're not who i fell in love with, you said, walking away without looking back, already closed, too far gone. in moments stretched through days, i slept, dreaming the truth: we're never who we were. love is seeing past that.

Finding refuge in the corners of your lips, the lines hinting at some secret knowledge of a world I thought was mine alone-- and a part of you knows a part of me that nothing could deny us; like I've always been yours, in some small way (bigger than the space that holds it). Your words find my mind like my fingers find your hips, instinctively-- reaching across time to bind us together by the pressure of a kiss, a touch, an accidental look. So count away, give numbers that explain the universe, where we stand, what we mean to one another. I'll just smile slow and whisper that I know myself in your eyes.

What about today makes you so restless? Sighing in your sleep, assigning meaning where it can't belong-- counting every step as each drop goes unrecorded. Who speaks your secret language of laughter, riddles and pain-- who are your Chosen Few? Beyond the pale reflection waits something, nameless, huge, patiently in darkened corners, a sibilant whisper, unfulfilled. Are you filled with formless dread? But danger tastes like a promise, like tomorrow, like coming home, and you are ready, you cry, ready! And step into the blackness, reverent, hesitant, defiant and proud.

If I weren't scarred would you still want to heal me? If we weren't broken would we still fit so well together, perfect-matching pieces? If you weren't bitter would I still want to taste your every flaw? Perhaps, without a past, there's nothing to bind us to tomorrow-- or even a future to bind us to.

Burning with a rage that obscures each shining nimbus, that shatters every bit of good that could have been [and it feels like coming home]. I'm sure it's all my fault, you see-- I was always better at this game; I have the finer touch for all things that scream of pain. And it will always be too much-- I have nothing less in me than too fucking much. I have it all, and I can't hide it. Bulging at the seams with every bitter bit, I crack and tear and divulge [too much]-- spill the poison out, drop by drop, until nothing is left that's not twisted and ruined. I say, beauty! and the world recoils; I feel bliss in the mi

maybe i just wanted to know who I am without you-- maybe i'm starting to find out: it's cold, outside the walls, more than it ever was inside. whiter and lighter and every bit as bad. i breathed you, in and out, so many counted heartbeats, so many fading scars. i named stars for you and told you my name, whispered what it meant to be myself, with you. but your memory is flawed, and so is every promise, each fault running clear through to the roots. what can you build on a cracked foundation? expectations, crumbling from both sides, lets meet in the middle on this one: we let each other down-- and lets take the blame on our