If you ask me I know I'll lie
Because the uncertainty must someday die
I'm unloyal and unsure
The words are true

But I want it all
I want the summer and the fall

I want my systems of belief
I want the torture and relief

I want to know that it will end
But then I want it all again

Why do I crave the pain?
The sleepless nights of starved refrain
The melancholy and sustain
But for you it seems worth it

I've never been one to moan
Over spilled milk I never owned

And while the clouds encompass the sky
My words get better to describe
This fucking limbo that I'm swimming in
And the water seeping into my skin

Don't tell me that it's love
Just pretend that I'm not there
Cuz you're making it harder for me
To make believe that I don't care

The stars align in your eyes
When you look at me
As much as I hold back
You're the only thing I see

When day turns into night
It's harder to hide it

This odd diversity of misery and joy

Always for you but never yours

It's me. I'm the one that exists with a trail. I'm the hurricane. The one that changes the landscape I step on and breaks trees at their  root. The one that leaves bruises on skin I touch.

New Moon

New moon
Don't tell me you're there because I can't see you
And what good does that do?

This happened on the same day.

How sweet
How warm
Is the pink
Of a Sunday

Lazy
Woolen
Despite
the heat.

Comfortable
Despite tight jeans

Expansive
Despite restrictions
Mapely
Crunchy

Heavy air
In the light breeze
And a hand in an eye
Reaching out to stroke your hair
And kiss the honey on your skin.



How easily can a paper
cut skin.
How it seems so harmless and clean.
Craftsmanship of every sort.
A blank page full of possibilities.
And yet just as easily it can slice right through your skin.
Small, seemingly insignificant cuts
That manifest later on
With searing pain.

There is a certain pride to be had in the claiming of constant pain.
"Never have I not felt it," as the cameras watch in the still darkness.
The sorrow the viewer feels is intevetable. The desire to care, the desire to comfort.
Silence passes between two entities.
The block of quiet is filled with pondering.
An eternal throb of ghosts weaves its way through the railing of the staircase, and the cameras just watch because they don't know what else there is to say.

Our lips move in sync.
The rhythm takes us in.
The constant beat of a bass
Moving us further in a sacred trance.
Magic hands explore the territory.
Tracing the edges of consciousness
The rhythm remains constant,
But a minor build
Results in
An explosion
And we drop.

Two entities

Two entities from different universes

A slow, gentle crash.

No casualties

But two

Magic hands contract.
Words unsaid make them linger.
Words unsaid that,
Like a piano hanging from a thread can drop in a second
And crush
Us
What can we be if our
Touches are tainted with
A thick, dirty guilt?

I cried for you last night.
Or was it for me?
You said your cheeks were wet
You didn't hear me when I told you
The tears were mine.
I'm destructive, you said.
And in short, I was afraid.

I want to take you to the mountains.
My chest fills with warmth.
I never thought it was possible for a plant to wrap around a brick house.
But in retrospect, of course it does.
How was I so blind to something so blaringly obvious?
Vines wrap around anything solid.
And brick houses just sit there, motionless as the world around it happens.

White staircase

We sat on the staircase, vulnerable to each passerby.
Eyelashes soaked.
Lips red.
Three words said,
Yet three words is too little.
Three words that are supposed to bring the sky bring the ocean instead.
We fear death by water.

Writing Prompt #1

A girl carries two heavy things:
a backpack on her back and a small child in her arms

Fog

city that flows so smoothly
into the mist
into the night
land- that fades right out
no senses aware,
no tangible fright
the fog; it consumes the space
and leaves my
consciousness out of sight
the Fog creeps lightly
and leaves toronto
alone in the night.

When we Wait so Anonymously for Coffee, Do our Movements Truly Matter?

What the fuck.
My heart is slipping through my fingers like liquid.
No matter how much I try to catch it with my hand it keeps falling through.
I once had thought that the Unknowns were beautiful, mysterious, exciting; but now I realize that all I found beautiful is my imagination and the image in my head of the Great Unknown.
The Great Unknown, the Question Mark.
The lack of knowledge and the frightening and hugely vague.
I hate the feeling now.
I hate the Great Unknown to the pit of my core.

What is Love and Why do We Do it?

So we've all heard our fairy tales about love and finding a prince and some ridiculously sexist stories on how the damsel in distress just sits patiently and waits (and sings constantly) for his prince to come and get her the fuck out of the tower so that they can get married and have many babies and live happily ever after even though they've only known the guy for about 18 seconds. Obviously real life isn't like that. Everyone knows that you have to put yourself out there and go through many heartbreaks and many dates before you finally find "The One". Numerous amounts of songs, books, poetry, and art depict this phenomenon called Love.

Some people, however( I won't mention any names * cough* my mom *cough*), don't believe there is such thing.
Isn't that sad?
I've decided to do a little research on the subject and ask the million dollar question: Is there such thing as love? What is love and why do we do it? Is it just a means to procreate and continue the gene? And what is marriage's part in all of this? Is it valid? (Alright well that was about 30 questions but you get the point)

Let's get all technical. 
The technical definition of love has been debated for many years, as it is a very versatile word, though it is only four letters, it can mean a thousand things.
Psychologists consider Love to be a cognitive phenomenon.I will quote a bit on what I found:
" Psychologist Robert Sternberg formulated a triangular theory of love and argued that love has three different components: intimacy, commitment, and passion. Intimacy is a form in which two people share confidences and various details of their personal lives, and is usually shown in friendships and romantic love affairs. Commitment, on the other hand, is the expectation that the relationship is permanent. The last and most common form of love is sexual attraction and passion. Passionate love is shown in infatuation as well as romantic love. All forms of love are viewed as varying combinations of these three components." 
The biological definition says:
"Biological models of sex tend to view love as a mammalian drive, much like hunger or thirst. Helen Fisher, a leading expert in the topic of love, divides the experience of love into three partly overlapping stages: lust, attraction, and attachment. Lust is the feeling of sexual desire; romantic attraction determines what partners mates find attractive and pursue, conserving time and energy by choosing; and attachment involves sharing a home, parental duties, mutual defense, and in humans involves feelings of safety and security. Three distinct neural circuitries, including neurotransmitters, and also three behavioral patterns, are associated with these three romantic styles"


Therefore, in science, what happens is that the brain releases dopamine, pheromones, norepinephrine, and serotonin whenever a certain person is around, creating happiness and excitement. Speaking in evolutionary terms, the body creates a desire to be around this person more often (putting it prudently) in order to create offspring and obviously keep the species alive. 

So then what is all that poetry and all that art and those songs about?
Love is a universal feeling of trust, commitment, and passion for another. Love can be shown in many different forms, from the love between a mother and her children ( most often referred to the truest love of all), the love of friendship and companionship, the love of oneself,etc. But is true romantic love really OBSESSION? what's the difference? Love is the undeniable, excessive need to be constantly thinking and wanting to be around a certain person. So is obsession.