Green to amber,
And amber to brown;
Reflective blue
To a tumultuous gray.
Glimmering dew
Now a shining frost.

The sun,
Once beaming overhead
Now longingly gazes sideways,
Bestowing a more gentle light
Over the delicate landscape.

The marsh is ever changing,
But I feel the same.

Maybe it’s time
That I wake up;
Throw caution
To the wind
for once in my life.

A fleeting flame
Only needs a log
To relight it’s inferno.

The damp world, slowly yet ardently wiping itself off
from the previous evening’s unannounced showers,
Blew a feathery breeze, kissing my skin with ghostly lips.

The frozen flame
encloses me in pain.
The blue turns
to a radiating white.
I've become so blind now...
this can't be right.

I'm trapped inside a world so bright.

This world is so ****** up.
The smoke is falling down,
My pain is rising up.
It's hard to breathe.
I want to leave.

I'm being burned right through,
this scorching hell keeps shining
its infernal judgement
upon my dying soul.

My world's a burning light.
I can feel my soul fading,
but that's all right.

It's all right.

A slice cuts at what’s free,
But now all is balanced.

As all things should be.

Coldly bleak blackened walls
Housing a discreet warmth.
Within such listless halls,
We find the stars alight.
Dwelling inside the void
Like an innocent blight,
You stand, full of spirit.
Fragmenting listlessness,
For only void hears it

Like a spirit’s stringless song;
Soundless and brief,
Beauty remains hidden
To those with prying eyes.

Inside chains,
Captive in icy walls.
A virus which protects,
And a cold heart
Sitting close to countless deaths.

Another subzero drop,
And my soul shall shatter as well.

If only you knew
That I am sorry.

You left something behind, once again.
I just kept counting my fingers, one to ten.
You been forgettin’, lettin’ down,
Berating, belating and I just keep waiting,
Watching you hating all the things I am
Creating with my shaking hands.

My ego keeps deflating
At every insult you’ve been making
It’s infuriating how you are thinking that you are getting away with all the **** you’ve done to me.
I haven’t been forgetting or hating or belating and berating...

Until now.

You left me behind.
Do you wanna pick up what you’ve forgotten?

I lie a broken boy,
Listening to the song of love,
Humming the tune in disarray,
And dancing my feet
To each devious beat.

Behind the eyes
That shall not show,
The inhabitants run free
Brimming my moving mind
With fantasy in top of fantasy,
Giving little else to think of.

Listening to cows
and the cars, far below me.
This bench's a safe spot.

Life flows on
Even if we are stagnant.
Through all it will travel,
Harboring our emotions
And our experiences.

Nothing lasts forever,
But anything good
Is worth trying to keep close.

Watch as we rise
And gain this sky
As the worldly prize.

Beyond these coals
Lies the resolution.
Strengthen your feet
Or grow your wings.
It’s time to fly,
Not to die.

Dec.28.2019

To see this sight once again,
strikes me with a heartwarming awe.
I am alight once again,
the blue flame has consumed me again,
but it changes as does the tides,
into a vernal green flame,
flowing with flowery life.

It has changed a lot since a year ago,
even why I have done it.
I feel much better, but I wish
I really do wish,
that it didn't have to be solved like this.

A chalkboard; a blank slate.
A place for two emotions:
white and black; love and hate.
the blank space is always black,
but the white-hot love flows over it,
covering the hate with it's purity.

But then technology came, bit by bit,
and then byte by byte, it took over,
recreating our old school chalkboard.

As this change was bound to happen,
so where my single track emotions.
A junction was coming; a railyard is ahead.
I had to change tracks, or I'd end up dead.

And so, I found my two colors,
not despairingly alone any longer.
More colors came into my world,
bursting through my mind's rusted door

Each day, new emotions flow through; red, blue, and green.
They appear like pixels, flowering up onto my blank screen.

Maybe as time continues
Our wounds will fade,
And we can go back
To something like
How it was
Before.

“Why must we fight?”
Asked the boy
With the tear-filled countenance.

“Because we are told so”
Responded the woman
After a dense pause.

“Then there is no question,”
Stated the man.
And with tearless eyes,
He went to take his father’s place.

I’m on fire.
It burns.
Hotter than magma,
Colder than dry ice.

The flames
Blue in nature,
Spread from my arms
To my torso.
My body is further
enveloped
In the liberating burn

Transcending all realms
Of known human sense,
I burn further and further
On.
As the fire spreads,
Farther and farther
Around
my blistering body.

My brain is finally hit
With the blue burning bliss.
A brilliant sight is seen,
A brilliant pain is felt.
I am fully enveloped,
And my room is now alight.

When I once again
come around to sanity,
I will notice my wrists,
Leaking my blue flame.

But it’s really just red water,
Giving me a release from the pain.

Through snow and pine alike,
Salt soaked shores
Preceding a treacherous hike.

The blood of denial
Resides strongly in my heart.
Sickness and injuries won’t do me part.

I can read and write,
therefore I can bleed and fight.
Bleeding through all the troubles thrown,
and fighting back with art, the art of English.

The problem, whatever it may be,
will not cause me to fail nor perish.
I shall move onward, towards the next sunrise.

My words are the vessel of my vitality,
so if push comes to shove I will rise,
above the death that encompasses my reality.

My words are a dull sword,
used to parry and ward,
not to slash and make bleed,
as the words of others over-do that deed.

Sticks and stones
May break these bones,
But the pain will find the past.
This is but a life lived fast,
Nothing’s meant to last.

When the crow flies,
Lost feathers fill a ream.
When the dreamer dies,
So dies their dream.

You don’t need to bother
If I’m just another blotter
That chains you down,
And makes you drown.

I say I’ll be fine
If you stop conversing
With the ****** I am,
But we both know
That the opposite is true.

If I’m a distraction
And your life loses traction,
Drop me without hesitation.
You’re far too good
To allow me to foil
your immaculate flow
And create a torrenting toil.

Strung together
Like a patchwork quilt,
Bound by a thin thread.
On top of this, a world was built.
But the thread, hued blood red
Was not strong enough
To survive the scissors
In which this girl
Had brought to my world.

Softly in
Swiftly out.
Control each expansion
Of these quivering lungs.

Fire’s spreading through my mind,
Life has turned me oh so blind,
If this world could be less kind...
I would be dead, free of this bind.

Looking at an untouched daisy,
I can feel my mind grow hazy.
My limbs are growing ever so lazy
And I’m falling in again. I must be crazy.

Hit after hit,
The wall beats my hand.
Yet I keep on swinging,
Unable to stop the motion.
I feel my hands slowly beak
But I continue to hack away.
The skin finally tears,
Letting my miasmic blood
Flow freely like a fountain.
My bones start to show,
And their frail fragments
Drop to the ground,
Much like pebbles of icy hail.

My arms are my remaining armament,
For my hands are far too twisted and bent.
A mire of my blood becomes the floor,
My vision fades and I see nevermore.

It is always the walls
that come crashing down
to suspend a new dawn.

Built to illuminate power
and show integrity,
but where does integrity lie
in a structure soon to die?

Yet it is the bridges
that hold a higher power
than mere stone walls can shower.

Bridges are never blown
for a new empire to be grown,
but bridges are commonly built
to support an empire's tang and hilt.

Fear sets in
Like a soft chill.

My comfort becomes my enemy,
And my silence begins to crumble.

Lost, cold, and alone.
All i have is the road ahead,
The hill behind,
And the mountain to the side.

I am stripped of all my pride,
Through the deafening emptiness.
Nothingness comes off in flakes

As my screaming silence breaks.

As I lay in this old bed,
I think fondly of
The fruits of my love,
As well as hers,
Which need a bit of time
To ripen out of sourness,
And into a world of sweet.

I can't help myself
from the abrupt distraction
of that tiny fly

Buoyed to the blood of our planet,
And anchored to our machines of war.
The human race cannot keep digging
Into this blood soaked shoal anymore.
Or a volcano will open up the ocean floor,
And destroy our abundant life, living nevermore.

Incineration of the mind,
Quenching the white coals
Of the overheated fuel.

Gazing into this furnace,
Which radiates more
Than the distant sun.

Inflammation on touch,
Festering blisters crowd
My already damaged hand.

Before contact is made,
The hand will reel away.
Only the foolish dive in,
Because the water
Is not fine.

All work and no play
makes me a useful boy.

As long as I keep working,
people will see my lie as truth;
that I'm not a failure.

I am not calm.
My head is spinning,
My vision’s fading.
With each person
Passing by,
Is another person
That tries to interact.
And with each
Delicately soul-retching
Interaction I have,
It all moves faster,
And my stomach flips
Over once more.

Now I feel about to cry.
People have tried to
Involve this sad soul,
But I turn them away,
Only secluding myself
Further into this abyssal hell.

I’m no better than I was,
Those 3 years ago.
I say I’ve changed,
But it’s all the same.

All I could do then was run away,
But I still ran away, even now.

An ancient dragon’s horn
Summons me to existence.
Bringing with me a veil of life;
A vernal, radiant blossom,
Gracing the earth with your kindness.
I protect the golden ichor
Streaming from his wounds.
Your blood shines with brilliance,
Flowing freely in self-propagation.
Emanating this amber veil of life;
An autumnal, iridescent flame;
A blossom in its own right.

Growing from your body
This single flower stands.
A gentle volley of wind,
Guiding my unsure hands.
A love formed of simple bliss…
Is my protection your stoic iris?

My life is in shambles.
As destitute as that essay...
For English. This sounds wrong...

Four-k cameras
don't do a scene much justice,
but beautifully spun verses
can imprint a distinct image
into one's imaginative mind.

I’m fine
But People say
I’m not fine
And I know they’re wrong
Two wrongs aren’t a right

Wonderful
Isn’t
It

Off of the precipice
I triumphantly march
Through my expectations

I could never be better
As I am now
I know this fully well.

It’s different.
It racks every node
Inside my frail body.
It’s different...

But it isn’t awful,
In fact,
It’s enjoyable.

Why have all my choices
No matter how good they are,
Always hurt someone in the end.

As the snow undoubtedly decides that it’s to good to fall,
I lay in my lukewarm bed, praying to catch a wink of sleep.
It is not because I am exited, nor do I want to catch Santa Claus,
I just have a case of insomnia, that’s pretty much it.

But as I look out my window at the clear sky,
A radiant arrow of piercing moonlight strikes my heart,
Shaking me to my solemnly steeled core,
A core as cold as the clean world lying out my window,
And as sturdy as the nice red balloons found at parks.

I try to speak, but I am speechless, breathless.
I realize my lungs are devoid of air,
So I take a rapid breath inwards,
A breath far sharper than my blooded razorblades.

And then I spoke.

I stand there, asking, pondering, realizing,
and further disappointing myself...
I question my past choices, look at the people I’ve loved.
A short list, containing only two names to be held dear.
A female and a male. I love both,
but neither loves me back.
I question how to look forward, how to move on,
But I cannot find an answer

On this despairing Christmas night.

Within the midst of your lies,
Hiding among the corner
Of your drifting eyes.

I stand surprised,
Activated by what’s lost
Awoken by the cost.

These cold blooded veins
Warming to your pains
Attempting to hide your fear
Of doing man right.

Internalization taking flight.

I lay there in the field,
An unlit Marlboro in between my lips.
Gazing into the summer sky...

My breathing starts matching the lengthening shadows,
My pulse slows down to even out with the intermittent owl hoots,
The cicadas fade into the crickets, and the crickets play a lulab-

A sudden warmth hits my face,
The light of my lighter is shining back into my eyes.
Once the end is in embers, the lighter is pulled away.
I take a long drag and gaze into nothingness,
Once again wondering who lights my cigarette,
Because they always steal my lighter too.

Striping flames
Burning names
Cindered letters
Breaking fetters
A novel of ashen lies
Slowly dies

All the voices
Running through
My mind, mistaken.
My thoughts feel taken.
They can’t be my own,
But yet here I lie
Writing yet another one
Trying to wind back up,
Rather than come undone.

The sky runs a dim orange,
reflecting the distant sun's dying light,
telling me that the day's final act
is on its final leg.

(the other was broken
after a saying
was taken literally)

A purple draws in,
as does the red velvet curtains.
The theater has emptied
except for those
who had tickets
to the night show as well.

An opal glacier,
Raven in the night.
An unreceived message,
Screeching warnings so bright.
A steaming screaming ship,
Unwilling to lose the fight.
A hundred escapes too few,
Now they’re all packed tight.
A thousand and a half dead men,
Who on that night, last saw the moonlight.
A coincidence by all means,
Which gave humanity a great fright.
A tragedy yet to be repeated,
As we move into the era of flight.

The spectrum brings
Colors and light
Shrouding those blessed
With fathomable delight.

Time passes as it will
And eventually the spectrum
Will have had it’s fill.

The colors will soon
Turn their back,
And my spectrum
Will fade to black

However,
A small spark of light
Begins to flood
The sun-bleached floor.

A pinprick of light
Entering and exiting existence
Like a flickering green leaf
Among an auburn landscape.

An instance of time,
And an object of remembrance.
Burned in our eyes
By the hopeful sidelong glance.