All at once
Or nothing at all—
I’m falling—
Blackhole kind of lovely lines
Cutting cross my angled fists
These endless daunting lists I fill to burn.

The deep-set abhorrence
Of standing alone—
Where is it from?
I stand on dead grass
Staring dead eyes in the face in the glass reflecting off my screen.
I look mean, dead angry eyes and my brows too dark—
I look mean;
mean and alone.
On dead grass in dumb boots
Waiting for too many factors
To change
Before telling myself
To move on.

Slowly...
Slowly slowly creeping up the vine
How many ants will die in my lifetime?
How many crave the sun deep below the earth
And care nothing for the vine the mind is telling them to search?
Grapes grown over
Over over over
Crushing wooden posts and stealing sun from most
My watermelon plants.
How many questions circling uselessly...
And how many ants never get the chance
To see the end
Of a daunting, pointless task.

Fire sparks along the walls of my gut.
Smoke pours from mouth—the cries I tried to release, gone.
Lies lies lies lies and excuses,
there’s a burning in my stomach.
I feel words wither on my tongue
As yours overpower and overwhelm.
Questions asked
About every word.
I’ll set it on fire
I’ll set it all on fire.
Coals to your wisdom,
Embers to your truth.
I’ll set it on fire.
Stop asking me
And doubting me
And lying.
I’ll set it all on fire.

Demons held in jars on my shelf.
I pick one up and talk to it,
"I think I'm wrong..."
Malice and the dead look in its eyes answer.
"... You're nodding. What do you know?"
When you go, will you haunt me?
Demons,
freed from their jars on my shelf,
run wild.

I am a nothing nothing nothing person
Nothing here to see
I am a nothing failing bailing person
Clinging to a dream.
I am a nothing nowhere no good one
A one who dries out eyes
I am a nothing but a husk person
Who can’t fight the dark demise.
A Dark Crystal demon look alike
It’s true, I’m not dead yet
I look my nothing in the face
And question it’s true taste
For if blood was what it wanted
Then blood it would’ve had,
But my nowhere eyes are missing spite
And deep down nothing me is glad.
A demon eyed me is nothing new
But here, I find a light,
If a nothing me was fighting so
Why can’t I feel the bite?
Give up then! I always do
A nothing keeps its name.
Look my nothing in the face
And play this telltale game.

You
Who does not do enough,
Slacking.
You who is tired, who is angry
At yourself and at the world
For making you do it.

You who is scared to make mistakes
So you never leave your head.
You who is missing everything
Trying to keep it all
For the future.

It is you
Who is tired and who is painfully bitter
At yourself