cacophonymy mind is a fountainof knowledge,a synaptic encyclopediathat spins and turns,each revolution fasterthan the last and allat the simple whimof wonder-lusting fingers,however when allrationality fadesand the musician hassurrendered her instrumentto its own devices, hersweet symphonyof statistical melodiesare nothing more thancacophonic cat-callsand withering echoes.
 swan songMy hands fidget at mysides quietly as I playwith the ring on my thumb,I can feel people staringat my quietly bent figure asI pass by; I know my pitted skinis painted in varying huesof red and I know my smile isravished by crooked teeth andmy awkward “fangs” I never outgrewfrom my youth; I know my bodyis not perfectly symmetricalby Vogue standards andthat I don’t move withmy head held high inperfect confidence butI have a grace all my own--I am my own swanamongst ugly ducklings.
 far from ordinarythough I carry noscars on my body asindigent trophies of war,you would never have knownthat 6 years of painwas my escape froma world that felt too heavyand from people who couldn'tquite understand thatI just wanted tobe an ordinary kid.
 To my dearest stone masonTo my dearest stone mason,Like the cornerstone ofany tall and everlasting building,you have been therein the foundation strongand quick, always thereto steady me in the windsof change.Sturdy and vigilant, you werethe anchor that held meport side as the tides and torrentsthreatened to sweep meoff of my feet (surely toonly wash me ashore later likea wasted castaway.)When the cracks begin to creepbetween my fingersand it feels as if I myselfwill crumble into a cloudof dust and broken bottles,you are the mortar and brickthat keeps this Londonbridge from tumbling down.From the days before I could evenwalk you were paving mystreets in golds and yellowsin hopes that one dayI would find my ownEmerald City.And for that my dear stone masonI must thank you, because without youI would be nothing morethan ruins left to facethe test of time.With Love,C.
 rebirth with each breath I take I can feel the heat within my chest growinge x p a n d i n g as it’s fiery trendles wrapthemselves around my fingers and crawl upmy spine like english ivy;I can feel the warmth burning between my shoulderblades until it suddenlyb u r s t sand wings of marmalade orange fall forth from my trapezius in a firework show of feathersand fire and I watch as theworries that once held me hostage,float around me in the cloudof ashes that dance aroundmy smoldering bodyas my new found wingsguide me in all of myphoenix wonder.
 paradisethe sea breeze brushesagainst my skinlike a near miss loverand the salty aftertastestings my lips asI immerse myselfin the purple-orangehues of morning sunrises--I paint my skin withthe emerald coast andlet the waves sculptmy body like nimble fingersworking at palpable marble.forever this scenic seascapewill be my home away from home,for when the days get longand the world becomes greyI will find myself by your sideonce again watching ourtime tick by as dolphinsfrolic in oceans vast andwe begin to lose ourselvesin blissful paradise.
 diamond dust its the short minutes I findin-between the moments I spendimploding (from the catastrophic pressures that do not forgediamonds from dust as I tirelesslygrind my coal dusted fingers to the bone)that I pull my head from the barrage ofself-contained hellfirecount to threeand breathe.
 intimate affairsif ever were I to have a loverit would be with my pillowcase--it has seen me at my messiest,sprawled out raw and bleedingas wrenching sobs vibratethrough my chest and my fingersare white knuckled and numb fromgrasping at my slipping reality just a little too hard. it has seen me blank and reelingas I contemplate my finite existenceamongst quagmires ofstars in the small hours of the morning when sleep has left me to combat my landmindthoughts alone as I buildand break myself intobite-size quantums.it has seen me in my rarest of forms,when my body feels like itscatching fire as a radiantbuzz unwinds the reluctant knots that have settle in my bonesand i can feel that stupid grin parting my lips so thatI may let my quiet world knowhow truly content I am. if ever were I to have a loverit would be with my pillowcasebecause knows mebetter than anyone else.