A vernal flame rises
As the golden sun falls,
And the blue flame quenched.

A green harbinger of spring
Carried his torch to my figure
And lit himself a second torch.

I have become the fuel
For the fleeting flame,
And it burns me so
Just to have to go,
But now I must,
Leave for the flow.

The music fuels my muscles,
Giving them the final twitch;
The final burst of strength
To push myself up one more notch,
And further excel.

Even if one thinks
That what is right
Is wrong,
There is an undeniable guilt
That follows in wake.

When I threw out my hand,
And everyone else pulled theirs,
You stayed open
And grabbed onto mine.
Through dawn and dusk,
Through wind and time,
You held on,
Without question,
Without a faltering will.

Through the glacial mountains
And the phantasmic ravines,
Your hand gave mine warmth,
And I held on,
No longer wanting to let go.

For those who held on
Even when I screamed
To let go,
I thank you for your hands
And giving me a reason
To hold my life close.

Tuesday, April 30th, 2019

A cold hand grasps my heart,
My emotions taken over.
The finger nails puncture like a dart.
I must’ve lost my four leaf clover

All that was left has been lost
I let out an unheard wail
Its thumb and fingers crossed
As it starts to drive in a nail

The pain makes me want to cry
But i must keep it all together
Even if I’m going to die
I will stay calm forever

But it’s all too late
My calm appearance leaves
I go insane, full of self hate
And drag a knife down my sleeves

When the deed is done,
My arms are bleeding, a smoking gun.
It leaves me in a state of despair,
Reminding me that it is always there.

This feeling comes whenever I’m weak.
It’s when I’m stressed or when I’m meek.
In the moment, i feel eased.
But my hunger is never to be appeased

Him uttering these three time-ridden letters where more than enough to bring his family to tears.

Ignore them.
Do what you want.
If they don’t want it,
Then all they are
To you and me,
Are enemies.

I’ve written poem after poem about her,
But I’ve never written one about him.
Is it because that ended before I
Started to write poetry once more?

I have no idea,
For I loved him just as dear,
As I love her.

Even though we may just be friends now,
I feel that he is still, by league after dissipating league,
The coolest person I have ever, and will ever meet.

I keep it all in;
Let the spiders crawl
Throughout my skin,
And spin their webs
In my soul’s
Numerous holes.

I fall asleep to the spirit’s melody;
Drifting along iridescent shores,
Welcoming all that passes before it.
An unforgiving chokehold sets in
And i am rendered unable to escape.
The silence of a bed;
The welcome of the world of dreams.

Like the song
Of a stone;
Sing along,
All alone.

Looking at you through this glass
as forever drifts to the past
An eternity of sliding sands block my path,
and a glassen wall stands at full mast.

were bittersweet memories
ever meant to last?

In this desert, another flower blooms.
Siftless sands begin to sift once more;
time always resumes.

Place the bets
Run the cards
Jack of hearts?
No,
You’re just the joker.

Face card?
No,
It’s all a facade.

living freely,
Yet chained to the game,
Life’s got my soul; my flame.
I’ve long since lost my name.

To dehumanize someone
Is to break the chains
That hold their wings
To an earthen reality.

Does complicated emotion
Really prove
That we are above animals?

Or does it drag us down?

Like clockwork;
Running on broken gears.
Seconds distorting
Beyond the minute gaze
Of the hourly chime.

I sit here
I lay here
I feel here
I see here
I live here
But
I am not here.

I never was here.

Slipping on the ice,
And crashing through the glass.

Floating shards
Hovering in prismatic wonder,
Lighting my darkened mind
Like the thousand stars
Guiding me to
My long lost dreams.

Lock me in ice,
Freeze me beyond my bones.
Let me become a visceral tundra,
Devoid of all,
Leaving only a chilling silence to roam.

Crystalize my blood; make ruby shards.
Tear the skin with your glacial flames.
Seize a still beating heart with Death’s arctic claws,
Puncture it with five frosting talons,
to diminish the simmering heat that remains.

If you’re going to ice my heart:
Spare no wrath, tear me right apart.

Slipping somewhere cold,
My grip is forever lost.
How long is the fall?

Cold and frozen
Inside a cage of my own.
There’s nobody out there to thaw me out,
Nobody to listen for my frostbitten shout.

Maybe I’m just a mannequin,
Singing lullabies and lies
Until my stifled cries
Reveal the real human inside.

Names aren’t important.
I don’t wonder who the thief is by name,
I wonder with faces instead.
They flash by and I think “what if it was this person?”

I should leave a note, saying hi to them.
I really want to become friends with them,
It is naïve of me,
at 17 years old,
To want a friend.
But thats the one thing i want.

Not love,

Not money,

Not possessions,


A good friend,

A real friend.

And I hate myself for it.

Close your eyes
You’ll come here soon.
Run away from this dream,
Fall into our tune.

It’s all a dream to me,
This horrid melody.
I call when you can see;
Setting the lifeline free.

I took a class a few months back,
it taught me how to drive a vehicle,
the extracurricular activity is Driver's Ed.
I listened well, but I wrote better,
and in the notebooks we were given,
I had written poem after poem,
covering all the whitespace.
About notes for later,
and love that was now
(it still is "now"),
this book is full of literature,
but the actual necessary contents
are one hundred percent
illegible literature.

Loftily flowing through the air,
In the almost nonexistent breeze.
It wanders everywhere,
But is locked to one spot.

The imperfect immaculacy called life,
Flowing unrestrained through all things.
It flows with neither rhyme nor reason,
It flows without regard to the season.

From the tips of my wiry, weak fingers
To the roots of the solemnly stoic tree,
Standing proud, for many years to come.

From the lifelessly vibrant autumn leaf
To the ceaselessly soaring summer bird,
Brimming with an almost vexing vigor.

From the phenomenally frostbitten stream
To the swaying spectrum of vernal petals,
Berating the grass with their "benevolent" beauty.

As I have said before,
Life:
The imperfect immaculacy,
Chained to existence.

Imperfection is everything.
Nothing is immaculate,
nothing is fail-safe,
some fool is always dumber
than you are smart,
so nothing is fool-proof.

In some cases,
you are finding the drop of mud
on the silvery crystalline ocean.
That is good enough,
don't hurt yourself
by yearning for more.

I’m happy to be here,
Alive and well.
I once lost all I held dear,
Tumbling down into hell.

But I rose out
Like a prizefighter;
Off of the net with a
Lively propulsion,
And into Death’s
Ugly,
No good,
Mug.

I’m happy to still be alive.
Not because I enjoyed rising above,
But because I
Wouldn’t ever have beheld
The beauty that has passed by.

And I know,
More is on it’s way.
So I can only pray,
To share this beauty with others.

The anger closes in,
Like a thick blanket,
Ten degrees too thick.

My worldview is narrowed,
The blanket weighs me down.
Heat is rising at a rapid pace,
And my thoughts become colder.

The blanket is now
chaining me down,
And I feel useless.
I want to help another,
But I cannot help their case.
It violently tears me open
To be unable to help them.
And as I think further,
The blanket grows thicker,
And tighter.

An incorrect output
to the anger built up over the day.
I wish I could apologize,
but the window just may
have already closed.

I should take back what I say
once in a while.

At a vexing infernal ball,
The molten ash lights up
An intricate obsidian hall.

The devil walked up to me
Offered a withering lily,
And asked for my decaying hand.

So I waltzed with the devil
Graceful fluid movements,
Like the blood leaking
From my long closed wounds.

Hand in decaying hand,
Ashen footprint by ashen footprint,
We drift further into our moment,
Dancing at the depths of our hell.

The dance will end in its own time.
The inevitable death of the
Minor notes of deprivation draw closer.
My heart starts syncing with the notes,
Tuning it's strings to the icy song in play.

As the ending major chords finish
Their prolonged hymn of fate,
The devil leans over my helpless body
And donates a kiss to my struggling lips,
Ending my life in its entirety.

Now a silent ballroom remains.
A silent ashen body lays stagnant,
And soon fades off into the dust
That decorates the ebony floor.

Two unscorched hands still lay,
But they are frail, and will soon decay.

Dec.27.2019

Why do I hold myself back
from what I want to do?

"To hide the overpowering disappointment.
You don't want to forever hurt yourself,
so you stay silently discreet; lay low."

But why don't I want to hear them speak?

"Again, to save your no-good cowardly ***.
You are quite the physical *******,
a lover of being cut, bruised, and bludgeoned,
but you suffer from being mentally skullfucked.
Aren't you supposed to me smart?
Maybe, just maybe, if you had confidence,
you wouldn't be talking to me;
the one person who wants you dead.
you refrain from everything,
yet you always seek counsel with me."

Because you're the only one I truly trust...

"Go **** yourself, just talk to someone else."

Why should I
Take pride in myself
When there’s nothing
To be prideful of?

Hidden to all.
What was going on?
It’s anyone’s call.

Trailing out what’s left inside;
Leaving a path.

Lurching into the fray
Letting come what may.

I don’t know what’s left
Inside of me;
Bloodless, emotionless.

What keeps me running
Away from my problems?

Taking into account
All the tension
That has come to pass,
I should have long since

Snap—   —ped

So why am I
Still standing
In one piece?

Driving by
These skeleton trees,
All I can really do
Is think and internalize.

As the souls
Surrounding my own
Glisten with vacation feels,
Their voices resound
In a wildly uneven,
Yet ecstatic chorus.

I listen to the awful choir,
But fail to gather my voice.
I can only sit and internalize
The soul that my love denies.

I want to steel this crumbling heart,
But she keeps me from doing so.
Now my heart takes the main part,
Instead of steeling, it lets itself grow.

Gazes repeat on occasion,
Looking into what looks back.
The mirror lies at the edge too;
All it takes is a single step.

I’m but a human husk
Fill me with your emotions,
And watch me fail your expectations.

I call myself a writer
Yet I’ve never made another cry
With the pieces I’ve written.
I’ve seen looks of disgust,
And those of disappointment,

But how does one invoke
The emotions felt in that moment
In the hearts and minds of the literate?

I want to create tears from one’s eyes,
Let the warm water streak a path,
And then send a fearful shiver
Up their chilled spine,
And freeze those beads of water
Into spikes of ice.

Maybe a boiling rage can follow,
And dissipate those trailing tears.

But when all is said and all is done,
Others spike emotion.

I spike none.

Stop.
Right.
There.
If I’m getting involved,
Give me a reason to care.

I can help with matters
Pertaining to your mind,
But I am not so kind
All of the time.

As I look beyond the ocean,
The horizon’s phantasmic light
Reflects a midnight’s oasis
Of never ending stars;
A planetary pastel painting
This distantly endless expanse,
Bringing color to my eyes,
And life to the world.

It’s this lightly salted bliss
Which I’ll come to miss.
No matter how much I move forward,
I’ll wish “once more” to see this.

What would you have thought?
I was fine all day to your knowledge.
All you heard was
“it’s been especially rough today.”

Would you have been shocked?
Sometimes i regret my choices.

Would it have been better for her if I didn’t turn around and step back in?
Would it have been better for you?

Surprises
Come
From
The
Most
Unanticipated
Places
At
Times,
Man.

Be you.
Be what you are
Don’t try to uphold an illusion.
It will shimmer then fall,
And then you’ll be left to crawl,
Because they didn’t catch your fall.

As long as you be you as well,
I’ll be me.

Sliding through salty waters,
Spray hitting my face
Each time I dip the paddle
Into the murky creek.

it’s so serene,
No people,
No yelling,
No sirens,
Just me and the geese,
And the wind.

Even though I’m thinking
About my next move,
You’re still there,
Lying, beautiful,
In the back of my mind.

The kernel blows up,
Popping it’s solid shell,
And expanding into
An amazing...
And delicious form.

The kernel
Of a computer
Is the same,
Except the astounding amazingness
Comes from the interactiveness
With a hunk of silicon and copper.

Disclaimer: please don’t eat any circuitry...

Knowledge is power.
If it’s a sin, then I’ll be
A drug lord in hell.

Lines marking a shimmering border,
Silence marks the void between.
Life and death are all that stand
In the way of a world pristine.

The labelmaker does not discriminate,
The labelmaker creates the groundwork for it.