DISSECTION: I want to get inside you, read you, rip your veins apart. Count the bruises within, and memorize every scar that's left its mark upon you. I need to push you away and then later slowly pull you back; just to see if you are willing to both lose and win. I want you to feel uncomfortable as I ask you what you're thinking at random; it's the bewildered eyes that satisfy me. Quiet people, I adore you; I will hiddenay observe you; while being anonymously eager to make you scream. Outgoing ones; I envy your sense of conformity, but I have every notion to sew your mouth shut to help you appreciate the silence you are too busy to ever hear. I like the way people are; but I like even more playing with their faults; messing with their fears; altering their mind frame so much, that they can be comfortable in any skin, not just their own.

ANATOMY: I wish I knew what it meant to be me. The more I think about it, the greater my headache burns. With my inner complexity, I suppose you can describe me as a ball of rubber bands. Twisted; tangled. All my thoughts are intertwined with every part of me. I don't have a solid core. I'm filled with gaps and holes throughout the course of my body. "I feel like a perpetual smudge. My lines all curve. I tend to connect the wrong dots." I believe there is something more extraordinary out there; maybe there is not a word for it, but I will find it.

SURGERY: If you and I happen to lock eyes as we walk about on this earth's crust; I promise you, you mean something to me. I see you wrapped in your individual linen; I just want you to know, you look like the sun. You are bright and I pray that you would follow me forever. If not, I won't hesitate to follow you. When I people observe; literally daily, I can't help but yearn for the passerby's. If I could, I would gently wrap you in my hands and place you safely in my pocket. You will be mine and I will be yours. Attached at the hip, only separated by a thin piece of cloth. You'll understand me as I will understand you. For we know nothing of each other to judge. I hope you won't flee; run from me. I must admit unfamiliar confrontation; engaging in nervous conversation; unfamiliar attraction; scares me, but I assure you, we will make the best of our time. I like the ghost in your voice, hiding every bad event; decision; thought; in your past you've ever had. Your shadow looks perfect under you; it mimics your hips perfectly; whether they are curvy or straight; they are beautiful. You are beautiful. You have caught my attention. Now; I pray that I have yours. You take it from here.

MAIN: First words and first steps. Mine were behind closed doors, without credit. It's funny; the way that you can clean yourself up and still be treated as if you are soiled. Right now, I'm the straight line that some keep trying to smudge. Everything to them comes down to the decimal point. My change is just something between the cushions in their eyes. Sometimes I feel like the new haircut that goes unnoticed. The new shirt that gives you confidence yet only draws ridicule. Believe me when I say that I've tried to die. My curse is this word "forever" that is written all over me. My failure isn't in the passions that I have, but in my lack of control of them. I've been fighting demons alone and I'm ok with that. I have comebacks for miles.
"You're not dead yet. That's just how you feel."
Excuses are just fireworks that never went off. And that never will again. Maybe all of this has only been the medicine talking. Or maybe it's just the only thing I have left in these fingers. It's all the same as the world spins and I find myself chasing consciousness. I'm somewhere deep inside all of this mess. Just promise to keep chiseling away. Forget the oxygen, pump forgiveness into the darkness.

DETRACTION: It's funny how very simple and intricate illusions can be. I don't ever want to know where the blades go, or how the assistant steps out unharmed. If the world came to an end, I'd rather stay blindfolded than open my eyes. Small amounts of "genuine" have dressed themselves in black and invaded the corners of my lips. Pulling them towards the stars and convincing them to spend the night. My stomach turns when you're near but only in the best directions. I'm faking everything, just to look like more of a loser because that's all I've ever known. These knuckles are bruised from fights that never happened except in my head. I was looking for comfort in all the wrong places, steel wool instead of silk. My greatest flaw is my obsession with feeling sorry for myself. No wait... my greatest flaw is my inherent need to document it. If you read between the lines, you'd realize I don't mean half of what I say, and everything that I don't. It's hard to be completely honest, when the world revolves around how well you can lie. I can manipulate people without realizing it, if only to get myself out of a jam. Bending the truth has become a habit. I'm losing my sight from staring at keyboards in the dark, trying to be everything to everyone, and nothing to myself.