Marcus

I am mature
I am calm
I am collected
And yet all it took were a few small compliments

It didn't matter delivery
Nor even sincerity,
Years of unexpressed emotions
All became on display at once.

I wanted a dialogue of description,
I still now, want to divulge a weakness at the knees
But I was sitting, and as always they remain reliable.

Gorgeous, I was told
I couldn't locate it
But courtesy made me accept it.

He was never on my level
Both god and a devil

But he gave a few small compliments that purged my lips to show a little line of white confessions.

Our end

The sky was dark with dust

Like a night of ever doom

The earth rose, as if to meet heaven

to leave us here in eternal hell

All that died remained

And all that lived, died

Balance meant nothing more than price

And price rose with the dust

Man on his knees

A woman to carry him

He tried to go to the beginning again

Before mistakes, in a warm womb

She knew of good and evil

But she had one rib cage,

And it did not carry a heart

She had no saviour now

The dust continued to lift

And clay was broken down

To become part of the dark

All earthly bones disseminated

The flower shut

The leaf fell

The wind sped

The ice formed

The last eye rolled away

The last beat heart came

We knew it would happen one day

We knew we were to blame

My silly things.

You really aggravate me.
There is this thing that you think I'm missing,
But I'm not,
I'm not fine,
(fine is what you tell people to fuck off)
But I am, in all honesty, fine.
I am unknowing and that is ok, thats why we try new things
I am a loner, doesn't mean I am lonely
I am patient, but I've no desire to wait for someone
I am contempt now, though I will resist any consistency. 

You may think me naive,
But one day, as equals
we will both examine retrospect
and laugh,
laugh at ourselves and each other,
           at our young notions
                                    notions of silly things,
silly things like love...

The nature of:

Oh my friend, you wear it so well, it is you.
I know you're trying at heart to be what you're not.
But does the attempt at an appearance and appearance make two outcomes?
I think not, I think you are doing well enough to fool us all.
But we aren't fools,
and you need not fake it until you make it,
because in the act of faking, you are enacting still.

So don't feel shallow because your skin sits on the outside
because your skin is all I've to look at
And from my point of view,
that is the only difference between you and me.

Crap inside.

Open pore,

open pore,

pore, more,

a pore filled with crap

a pimple waiting to rise.

A crappy complexion all over.

My skin stretching further than it needed

My face red beaded

But who is to blame for the life I lead.

Don't think it is me,

though I blame you, for you

I blame you for who you are,

Judge you for it,

Those choices.

But me, I'm an accident.

an accident like no other, everything else, ever always, 

exactly the same.

This was how you felt, before I said it.