this is breathing.
...or, maybe before it even begins, i can't bear the thought of losing you.
this is insecurity...
when our eyes float
towards each other,
bridging this moat of simply empty stimulus that is the world we see around us
until our eyes,
comes to be...
like the threads of be were inspired,
and created fundamental particles and the laws of physics,
a material reality...
to allow us to have body,
to wrangle this electro-emotional flight,
this chemical love warfare fight,
trying desperately to prove itself,
that for every anti-particle there is
the artistic gift of life,
good and right,
that out of the darkness really was born light,
because to breathe in the presence of your flesh,
to watch your chest heave as i give my own until there's nothing left...
is to believe.
because, i can't fucking believe that your love is happening to me.
because i've spent years,
count em', 3,
but i'm not even 20 + 3,
so that's an 1/8th of my life
just trying to recover from what a different she previously
wrecking-balled into me.
but not just a poor circumstance,
i'm talking annihilation;
- the fact that a single glance could condemn
and demolish my self-esteem
shaking seemingly iron beams to their
the exacting castration that only the most cold-hearted bitch
could execute with such perfect realization;
the type of cruelty only a masterpiece of betrayal
could adequately express from her imagination...
gripped in the ticking hands of the steadiest surgeon,
accompanied by destiny,
i watched in fascination
as an unrelenting razor threw right angles upon a tree,
creating black soil,
shaking the bough until it gave forth a seed;
this is i,
that i which temporarily bleeds for the time given for my life to be,
take all of me,
because i think it's too good to be true,
that it could grow through the concrete.