There

is an intensity hidden beneath the palms of my hands and it's power is greatly influenced by you, dear.

You'll feel it when I touch you next. I swear it.

I feel

the pressure of the world upon me like a wave. A wave like the aftershock of rippling events. I graduate, I register, I go from place to place. The expanse of my decisions increases as time continues and with unwavering consistency I find myself becoming an adult. Am I ready for that? To be unable to justify my actions based on my age. To perhaps take on responsibility for myself: my faults, my shortcomings alongside my successes and my achievements. I'm scared. Of course, if not because of what I've stated just now then because I'm going to miss the very distinct embraces of people whose arms I've become so accustomed to.

winners and losers

I will someday finally feel the way you feel
I will kiss your cheek and maybe fall straight in
I'll run too hard and break your hamster wheel
I'll know just what it is to lose and win
to lose and win to lose and win
at this game that you call falling in
to peel away the plates collected on my face
the ones you eat off of to satisfy your sex appeal
you steal you steal you steal
and make it so i lose and win and lose and win
but only at your fucking whim