Ready, set, go.

Some really old work I just found on the computer at school:

The side of my body presses against the cold, slightly damp grass;
Blades of ice, melting and sinking around me,
And I'm gazing at you.
In complete infatuation with your subtle imperfections.
A faint smile traces your lips, and I can not help but to feel
The sensation that you are breaking into my thoughts.
You are reading me;
Theorizing and calculating every word that parts from my lips
And every movement that escapes my bones.
I reveal the faintest of expressions:
A tinge of discomfort at this silent analysis.
The skill I had previously thought I mastered myself
And it only makes the corners of your mouth lift further up.
As if I were an experiment, being tested for a reaction
You slowly place your soft hand upon my cheek
And you trace your fingertips along the outline of my face.
Longing to fool you, just once I hold my breath
in a useless attempt to remain placid.
You must hear the frantic palpitations of my heart
Humming your name over, and over with every beat.
You have heard it, and you laugh softly under your breath.
I can not resent you.
I can not detest you.

I love you.

I love you.

But you will never let me figure you out.
You will never let me figure you out,
So I cling to the faint webs you have woven for me,
Holding my breath, lest it splinter a single strand.
You are such a mystery
And I long to drink in the essence that your mind contains.
You are such a mystery.
And I can not solve you.
Is that the sole reason I remain so captivated?

Because I can not solve you(?)

I am not omnipotent
But perhaps that is my desire.

Sometimes my intentions disgust myself.

The world is made up of hard feelings.

I found your heart in a box of cereal.

I pressed it against my chest and held my breath.
I felt nothing.

I found your heart in a box of cereal.
I held it in my hands
and cried.

Ranting tirelessly about the evils of capitalism does not make you look awesome.

When I burst

at the seams, there's nothing I can do but sew myself back up.
Stitch, by stitch, by stitch

until all the cotton has fallen out of me, and vanished.
My favorite trick at the magic show is when they make her

disappear.

Seldom do I ever see anything as beautiful
as that act
of elegance;
of cleanliness;
of life.