i'll dream of you someday
not in the good-warmth fuzzy-feeling
limbs entwined and comfort promised
way, no, not in the bright-day fresh-faced
morning comes and i follow way, no
new-found steps and early cups of tea
shirts unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up,
no mutual joy and mutual sorrow and
goodbyes turned hellos turned i-love-yous
i'll dream of you someday
tipped in regret and laced with nostalgia
pointedly distant and further driven
deeper dug under my skin, veins bulged
almond scented and pillow still warm,
it will be untitled poems never read but
thought hard, words unspoken kept
pressed against the breast-pocket of
woolen pajamas now soaked through,
puffy-eyed stares in silent mornings
and blemishes on a salt-dried face
but when i wake it will be ashes,
not gathered, but spread, verily
wind-swept taken to seaside views
in gold-flecked divine proportion.
it will be deep breaths in and deep breaths out
and life that feels too much to live
but i will live it anyway.
Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 5:18 AM UTC
i'll dream sometime, someday, somewhere
lost in a sea of endless thoughts
think of the things that were once there
think of the things that are now lost
i know it hurts, because it should
and yet i mourn the mounting tide
if i could fight it, know i would
i wish i'd never stepped aside
tomorrow marches into frame
why does it always go so fast?
to douse the fire, **** the flame
to cut my tether to the past
all good things must one day end
i never thought it would be you
all i can think, without you, friend,
is when you're gone, what will i do?
i'll dream sometime, someday, somewhere
lost in a sea of endless thoughts
i'll say a quiet, sorrowed prayer
and hope it covers up my sobs
Feb 29, 2024
Feb 29, 2024 at 3:11 AM UTC
i look upon the horizon
with gratitude thick on my breath
and tears unforced,
in plato's beauty i am reminded
that i live for imperfection
Mar 25, 2023
Mar 25, 2023 at 10:55 PM UTC
a lethargic step is
weighed by distance,
so:
a stumble, a fall
is nothing more than
continuation
Mar 25, 2023
Mar 25, 2023 at 2:09 AM UTC
i know it well:
all good things come to an end,
but it's hard to remember.
and i ebb and flow
in an endless expanse
dispersing my weight
on a lukewarm ocean.
perhaps there is beauty
in the way things grow and fall;
good times never last
but neither do bad,
yet i cannot share that sentiment
an acknowledgement of change
because this pit in my stomach
hurts like nothing i've ever felt
and the lump in my throat feels infinite.
i wonder if this is it
if this is who i am
if this is all i'll ever know;
the waves grow choppy under my weight,
turmoil feels sweet in an empty body,
anxiety reminds me that i'm alive.
and it almost feels like a cruel joke
because i can hear myself breathing
i know the comfort of ground under my feet
i can see how the earth moves with me
yet it all seems so far away.
does it ever change? for better or worse?
am i bound to this water, smothered by waves?
everything is an echo of what once was;
all i can count on is the heartbeat in my ears.
Feb 28, 2023
Feb 28, 2023 at 6:12 AM UTC
my bedroom is dimly lit
and i sit barely awake, slumped
against my desk, the glow of
a monitor drawing my attention
and i realize i don't want to write
i want to sleep, dream, breathe easy
but tomorrow frightens me,
wavers against my field of vision
and makes it hard to stand up
a reply from a friend
snaps me out of my daze
the not-so-subtle ding
of a not-so-funny message
ambience plays gently
and i continue to ramble
far past my bedtime
deep into nothingness
pouring out like an
unstoppable waterfall
til i am empty once more.
it just feels so pointless
i don't know what i gain
from doing these movements
from memorizing the keys
from knowing it all
with my eyes closed
maybe i should have gone outside today
felt the sun sink into my skin
felt a breeze rather than this stagnant air
felt a chill outside of room temperature
maybe i should have gotten up today
maybe i should have drunk more water
eaten better. slept more. lived bigger.
i am plagued by what-ifs, hauntings
of things that could have been. dreams
of a different past, visions of a different future.
and yet i remain the same, unchanging, unmoving.
i could have died yesterday,
i could still die today,
i could die tomorrow.
and yet... does it matter?
time stands still for me.
the hourglass is frozen,
sand stuck in midair.
i almost want to reach out
grasp it in my hand
crack the glass,
let it loose.
i squeeze my eyes shut.
the monitor's glow is burned
deep into my eyelids;
i can still see it when i look away.
Nov 7, 2022
Nov 7, 2022 at 5:41 AM UTC
i am filled with a
deep, powerful,
angsty and artsy
desire to create.
what? i know not.
how? even less.
but **** if it doesn't
gnaw at me and
engulf me alive, this
painful, awful sensation
praying and clawing at
my fingers- to type, to
paint, to write, to draw.
this desire to create is
my ultimate betrayal.
because it reveals that i
have lied about not caring -
all i want is to leave myself,
traces, where someone else
may find them. a note in
between a book at the library.
a comment on a forgotten blog.
a message to an unused email.
i want to remember and i
want to be remembered.
and yet when i find myself
in front of the computer,
hands poised at the keys;
when i'm gripping a pencil,
begging to begin;
when my mouth is open,
and i wish to speak;
i find that there is nothing.
i am empty; i am a void.
Jul 22, 2022
Jul 22, 2022 at 5:27 AM UTC
it was easier when i was younger
because i still had time
they said i'd grow out of it
yet here i am, still the same
i guess i could say i told them so
but it feels like i'm just laughing at myself.
Nov 16, 2021
Nov 16, 2021 at 5:18 PM UTC
connected by the
twisting of our
lungs (the air
meets with the inner
workings and
have *** under the
last light of the
yellowing moon) oh,
is it poetry or just
a murmured tangle of
fragments that dangle meaning
in front of you (
laughingly- i am the
naked king, and
you are the false awe)
;find purpose in
these words because
it is the first time
they have ever been spoken
(written, preached, given)
in such an arrangement
and the last time
even i will remember
what they meant to say
Oct 8, 2021
Oct 8, 2021 at 2:07 PM UTC
my fingers ache with a desire to create
explore the colors of my mind
i beg for it to come freely
but i always end up searching
carving away at the layers
like a caver, trying to see what beauty
could be hidden underneath
the worthlessness and despair
for once i realize i could be something
i no longer am nothing
and i spill from my mouth,
my eyes bloom,
i see what could be and
it feels close enough to touch
all i must do
is reach a little further
i have never felt as warm
as when i am writing
and i have never felt as cold
as when i am done
i pour my heart out into
these virtual pages
and it's nice to see
what i have created
but god, do i feel empty after
Sep 24, 2021
Sep 24, 2021 at 1:06 PM UTC