I want to write something.
I want to write a mountain.
I want to publish volumes.
I want to tear open my chest
And let all the fear and love and hate and sorrow
Pour out onto perfect white pages
Until they drown with my emotions.
I want to speak in riddles.
I want my desires etched into the stars.
I want my words to stop your heart.
I want to inspire and depress and confuse
Until you yearn to meet them,
All of my beautiful, tragic muses.
I want to make you want to read.
I want to make you want to write.
I want to make you want to live.
I want to be impressed and disgusted and amazed
To the point that I know your soul
Through the words you have so carefully crafted.
I want you.
I want you to not hold back or obscure.
I want to understand everything you've left unsaid.
I want you to tear open your chest
And let all the best and the blackest
Stain my heart and change my opinion.
I want you to discover yourself.
I want you to recognize
That there are two types of secrets,
Those we keep from others
And those we keep from ourselves.
Which ones are yours?
I want to invite you,
All of you -
The good, the ghastly, the minute, the weak,
The strapping, the social, the reserved,
My friends, my enemies, strangers,
To share something with me.
Anything.
I want you to know yourself.