Some nights
I crack a window
to let out the stink
of darkness

unsheathe my knife
and think of carving
free my eyes

tossing them high
into a pine
so that they can see
all that isn’t going on
around me

instead I let the sharp
hard winter winds
of black starlight in

to fan the flames
of lonesome desire.

How does it feel
To know that someone
Needs you for real
Like a flower needs the sun

I could say great
Or perfectly nice
But that would be fake
No longer does it entice

Me or my heart
Because it's mostly overpowering
Cause you have all the parts
And the burden keeps towering

And you try to hold it
Carry it the best you can
So you grimace and grit
Trying to stick with the plan

But then you pass it all on
Because you can't them anymore
Your strength is gone
It started to feel like a laborious chore

So reluctantly you give those burdens up
You can't handle all the added stress
Your hands are too small to clutch
oh mere teenanger it was too big a mess

You tried to help her out
You did your best
no need to cry and pout
Just give it a rest!

Everyone is starting to helping her now
She's going to be fine
Stop please if you would just allow
Us to take it from here see the sign



The sign says your empathy is too much
You should put yourself first
Be slightly self centered for once
but would that be worse

If i Ignore my brain
Saying she's not going be ok
Staying shes in pain
Yet i'm scared to portray

Any sort of emotion
Because just yesterday
My feelings were vaster than any ocean
My heart tattered with fray

Yet i know
We are finding our own way

A near summer soaked nostalgia
sweet backseat demands
Banal Black night memory  
Shared sweat upon our hands

I pull your legs close, summon that smell
braille read breast, i’m near you, soft tactile tell
Of lust longed known of, that potion, so well
in an iris, I fear you, drip sacred, your spell

Still, it’s not your fault
magnets make no choices
Like Homeric Epics
with siren voices:::

Epilogue:I held firm to our makeshift daydream and
wrote an endless novel hoping...
can you will lucid memories true?

Some may think
a spark
is just a spark
a weak attempt
at a start
to a flame
when in fact
it is the beginning
of an art
found in the ashes
and stone cold bones
of a dark hole
in Zhoukoudian.

We grow wild
unattended
Our rage is our own
We learn to love like nettles
and pretend we're not alone.