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This is my official "I'm taking a break from whining" journal. Enjoy.
_{i'm really sorry i've been so whiny...}

(Heated) Waterand I told her;
water won't waste gravity.
she breathed in
scraps of a
wonderful life,
until she melted
down.
(she loved to swim -
sea-burns & headaches;
the way it made
her smile, she
couldn't stop)
her clammy breaths
enraptured
humidity,
as heat felt her
up.
(she wanted to drown -
wayward & dehydrated;
this time it made
her energy
stagnate)  
and I told her;
water won't waste gravity. Broken ManStop looking for this broken man.
He's half a soul
stolen; sold
to devils without mercy.
He left here long ago.
Once, you tempted me
with coy glances and shy wordplay,
and lusting for smiles, I followed.
We wound up twisted together,
tumbling through rosebushes,
sharing countless heavy breaths
and a single metronome heartbeat.
Do you remember how we didn't care?
And how we were happy enough?
No, didn't think so.
And when I awoke, you were gone.
I was left to push through the thorns myself
and my promises never held much weight after that
to anyone, not even me.
You made me into
the worst kind of liar:
"I will always…"
I beat for no one;
I pulse for no one.
He wanders without compass and
he catches only flickers
but every single time he looks the
embers rearrange.
(Not here nor there to save him.)
Once upon a time
I sang beneath balconies
and whispered in the night
sweet "everything's" and "promise-you's"
down through her tumbling hair.
Now he stumbles through the doorway
and he creamershe took her coffee black
like she took her
souls
and her tongue has never soaked
in anything more acrimonious 
than every past relationship
because she was drawn
to hurt that hurts
to coffee that scalds
to the caress of fire 
across the roof of a hesitant 
but welcoming mouth
always sipping impatient 
for the taste behind the burn
all she meant with her cream spirit
was to sweeten and blend within them
till all was soft brown and 
smooth as true love ought to be
but someone has to take the brunt of boldness 
someone must temper the angry boiling bitter
so she poured herself into each and every
full-bodied bruiser
:thumb349454118: 1000 Daysi folded you in half at your spine
and pushed you as far as i could into the coals.
now you're back again with ashes in your eyes
and your skin full of holes.
i should have wrapped you in gasoline
and scattered you over Hell's half acre.
i'm not your tin soldier, and you're just another paper dancer.
fine print falls out of your mouth like broken bits of glass,
these ransom notes written in code are your latest fashion,
and i want nothing from you. Absolvedecho girl drops down so far,
(so dark) she swears it is heaven:
exodus, this final breath
strapped to the wings of fairies
and forced to fly away,
light like the gossamer sun
seeping in her skin and the
repetitive reshedding of her
meager lungs, exodus
the awakening and glorious release—
swan-dive into everything she ever wanted,
where the broken jaded looking glass
never shines right and the spiders
nest between her spine and he
still calls her beautiful and she
drops this faithlessness in exchange
for a quiet dawn.

Auditor of the Ashes"I am an incalculable rhythm of distinction."
Those words being uttered from the other side of the cubicle wall were not expected, but they could not be labeled as "unexpected" in my inventory of daily expectations.  "Is that so, Rod?"
"I am a paradigm of undiscovered configurations."
This second phrase fell on me as the first.  "Well, that may be true, but you know how much they love it when you talk to me over the cube wall like that.  I hope this audit project hasn't finally pushed you over the edge."
"I am a master of untamed neuropathic swings."
It was that statement, I see now in hindsight's tremendous focus, when I began to worry.  "Oh, you're the Jonas Salk of neuropathy now?  I thought you were an accountant?"
"I am the King of Spades, and I have an ace up my sleeve."
I heard his chair push back, the plastic wheels rolling across the plastic mat, and his Oxfords made a few taps on the mat until they transitioned to the carpet.  He was go :thumb342044212: (c)loves and (c)loversi am no artist's muse,
    i am no ship's harbor
         i am no hero's weaker heel,
              i am no good earth's flower
i have never been your lover
nor have i ever kissed you,
- not even once
    though i dream of you (c)love-scented,
    with lips shaped like a lucky (c)lover's-
    kissing you and to be kissed by you
    over and
    over
i can never profess,
not even confess
  note:
    even to myself
i stay standing, (b)raving the cold nights,
pretty much batty and bootless
         yet again,
       the absence of you weighs metric tons on my
     ringing ear,
   shivering nape, and
 repressed shoulder
you dam(n) me with
your body;
you are my river's boulder,
untapped territory,
and undefined border
:thumb363232050: :thumb286021213: white coffin collar boneI traced her collarbone with my thumb, dipping into the valley it formed – deep enough to hold her bird soul.
“What are you doing?” She asked because we were in the middle of conversation when my eyes had wandered from her fern-green eyes, over her sunset red and rounded cheeks, slowly down her birch-tree neck. My hand impulsively finished the wandering, right along a branch, her sweet, exposed collarbone.
“I’m…sorry,” I lowered my hand. The last bit of hope in my heart crept into my mind like a child searching for comfort in his mother’s arms. My mind embraced the tiny hope born from her not moving away at my unprovoked caress.
We had been talking so candidly and she was whispering about her wishes and her "silly" wants and how I was the last person she should be speaking so intimately with so maybe I panicked. Maybe what I saw nestling feathered in her collarbone wasn’t her soul hiding away to die but only a shadow and maybe, eve :thumb346699551:

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