Broken street lamps
Scattering luminous dust
Along the chalky sidewalk.

The particles fly
And the phantoms fall.

The light summons radiance
And the darkness casts its shadows.

Beyond this ashen landscape,
And the sifting smoke,
Lie melodic rivers,
Glimmering;
in their chilled iridescence.

Blossoming orange clouds
In the morning’s shining sun,
The softly stagnant lake
Sleeps, a dormant source
For the singing streams.

As I lay in this field,
The sun shines its rays upon my skin.
A shadow is created upon the
Opposing side of my delicate body,
Darkening the once golden grass,
Now degraded to a lackluster bronze.

My shaded half is becoming uncomfortably cool,
Because Jack Frost nibbles at the exposed skin,
Seeing it as a wonderful midmorning snack.

My better half, however,
Shines with a soft, unobstructed glow.
Filled with a calming, serene warmth
Generated by the ever shining sun,
I continue to lay in my solitary love of myself...

But as I lay here,
I realize that I don’t know
Why I despise all of myself so severe.

Feb.2019

I am a leaf
Flimsy and death bound,
Waiting for the grief
When i float to the ground.
I am a fallen life
Brittle and soon to die,
The cold stabs with its knife.
The wind makes me fly
It shoves me through the air
With it’s taunts that get me to weep
Eventually i will tear
And go to an endless sleep
Another leaf broken
Because it was left open

If life gives you lemons,
Why would you make lemonade?
They taste perfectly fine
On their own.
Maybe a spoonful of sugar
Might help the sour feelings
Rinse from your mind though.

Even now,
You’ve slipped into my mind, unannounced.
Once again, your absence plagues me,
And I attain more symptoms of love sickness.
I think of how much nicer this serene scene
Would be with you, next to me on this bench.

The cold weather
that’s striking our world
Would be less chilly,
with your warm heart
Resting next to mine.

I’ve started coming here daily,
To rest and ponder.
My mind will aimlessly think,
And my heart will slowly wander,
Cycling in front of my mind,
Obstructing my rational thoughts.
And each day, these cycles grow longer.

It’s ok to hate yourself,
As long as you’re trying to like you.
You will fall from grace,
But it’s ok, life is sour sometimes.
If you don’t ever let go,
Life will let go of you in your stead.

Before you love someone else,
Learn to first love your own **** self!

Lessons learned through progression of life.
Lessons I had unknowingly tried, and never met success.
Lessons I all learned at once yesterday.
Lessons I will now follow.

Life is what I am to make it,
So it is no longer an autumn hell,
For I terraformed it into a vernal heaven.

Let the cold consume me,
Bring me farther into darkness,
And run my soul through
With two daggers of ice.
Drive my fingers numb
With its glacial insanity.
Turn me inside out,
Become my calamity.

Into all of eternity,
Over the despairing
Expanse of Ginnungagap,
Across the Bifrost rainbow,
Through the golden fields
Of the prosperous Fólkvangr,
And into the trunk of Yggdrasil,
Life forever moves through the nine worlds,
Binding us all together.

Struck dead awake
Then pushed off to sleep
As my knife stabs my side
And I silently weep.

My suffering continues
But the emotion dissolves
Like a drop of milk
Inside of an amber marsh.
“It will see me tomorrow,
But for now,” I thought,
“I’ll bid it a good rest.”

An object of hatred?
Or an article that
Appends additional anxiety?

A hand that let go,
Allowing me to fall into the flow.
Another that grabbed on
But it’s grasp now weakens.

The fear of knowledge
Overriding my yearn for it,
My fear of the answer
Increasing beyond finites, bit by bit.

I wonder if something like that
Is really the truth,
Or is it just her hidden tone
That venomizes my mind
And removes rational thought.

When I read those messages
I can’t help but laugh
In my vast contempt
At the figure you represent.

You boast a similarity to him
Reminding me of my blunder
That sent my mind and heart asunder.
I do not hate you or him,
Far from that fact.
I hate myself,
For my awful tact.

Venomous voices
Tempting fate.

Listless lisping
And culling words.

Silence prevails,
Pervading my guilt...

And feeding my
Venomized thoughts.

An arid, cold fog sets in
On the once emanating morning,
And dampens our planet once more.

A wet, ebon oaken wood bench lies
In the place where the usual bench rests.
And the grass glows an affluently ardent amber,
Drowning out the sulfuric gray clouds.

On this day I look and wish
That someone was by my side,
And we could share
This gloomily wet,
Yet so intensely vibrant
Visage of life.

The cook books lie
In the realm of bakers,
Those who pass are to die
And meet their makers.

The time draws out
And the sweets stop arriving.
We will cry and pout,
But the bakers keep on thriving.

The shops have closed doors,
So we skip the baker forts.
The acidly cold rain pours,
But neither side makes retort.

In times like these our town begins to drop,
We can only hope for the demise
Of the dreaded baker shop.

Living in desperation, looking for a
Silver sliver of golden hope;
A contradictory existence I shall never find.

I just want to love and love,
Is that too much to ask?

What if I created a livestream?
A video broadcasted in real time,
For all to see my dastardly crime.

All it would take is a service,
And an awfully amazing plan,
Then I’d be set, oh man!

What if I held
A livestream suicide?
For all to see my body fall
And drift out by the ocean tide.

Mistakes are a demon
Bludgeoning you with a bat.
You get nothing but pain,
See nothing but failure.

And then your hospitable
Tormentor
Tells you to learn from
Getting beaten severely
By an infernal divine.

One of my best friends, and the third friend I ever made is finally getting a replacement kidney. It’s hard to express in words just how happy I am for him. He’s been a lifelong friend for me and I’ve had to live through the decline of it’s functionality. All I can do, is hope that tomorrow’s operation goes smoothly.

I want to run.
Travel far away.
This place is hell
I have no idea why
But my blood’s boiling as well.

My mind is hell bent
My blood is pumping,
But...
I can’t break anything
My fear is overtaking.
I want to break something,
Yet I’m breaking nothing.

I don’t want to be here
I don’t want to be here
I want to ******* run
I want to cough up blood
And wither away.

Split myself open again,
Laugh at the sight of blood,
Ride the wave of serenely
Stabbing,
Butchering,
And ultimately
Mutilating pain.

Home is where the heart is,
But my heart has burned away.

The cliff looms over like a monolith,
Radiating a ghastly aura.

I can’t bring myself to cut ties
Even if I know that their eyes
Hold a different light than before.

There’s no way I can leave now.

The monolith stands above
And I need to find the top.

Paradise is just over this precipice,
So why can I no longer see it?

When what is lost
Has not yet become found,
Why do we miss it’s presence
And dream it was still around?

What’s lost
Shall be missed,
Held dear,
And close.

But remember:

The lost
Can be found,
The broken
Can be repaired.

The only true dead
Are the ones lost
From heart,
And mind.

If you love your hate,
And hate your love,
You’d be rather irate.
I’d suggest flying a dove,
And make peace,
For the hour strikes late,
And love is in everyone’s fate.

Nov.28.2019
Love lies.
It turns you on but turns you off.
Not sexually, but communication wise.
You want to speak,
Toss words out of your mouth
Like a panther just unchained.
However, you cannot speak.
You can only stare on as she turns away.

As she turns away once again.
You seem to notice that more.
Every time she walks off,
Says goodbye,
Leaving once again.
You invest hope in the questionable God,
Pray that she’ll come back and talk again.
She almost never does.

You hafta lie to your friends,
Saying you’re completely fine...
But you can only say a trailing
“Yeah...”
As you stare at her.

You want to be by her side,
You want to have someone lean on you.
The darkest times will always haunt,
You want her to help your fear wash away.

Someone to lean on.
Someone to hold up.
Someone to cuddle,
As the night grows cold.

You haven’t once thought about
...
That
Thing
Called
...
consummation.

Love strikes you out of nowhere,
It’s never a soft, feathery, padded strike.
It’s quick, hard, and piercing.
Claws or a knife are probably involved.

A fever courses through my veins,
And I’m feeling lightheaded
The world continues to spin
But I’m standing still
Wondering to myself
Am I sick with love?

All I can do is stand and hope
That my brain is just on elope.
But sometimes I can feel, and know,
That I’m just a **** dope.

Love
Lies
Little thoughts
Lingering doubts
Living in a lovey drought.

Love escalating, but
Lies pervading through
Little cracks
Lingering of a broken foundation,
Living in this silkily scripted silence,

And hiding from the moonlight.

The vague moonlit visage
of her eternally beautiful face
was burned into my mind.

I remember it all,
especially the eyes.
She was smiling
a ventriloquist's smile.
Her face may have been
a summer sun's smile,
but her eyes
were a winter moon's sobs.

I want to help her
more than my pride
would ever
let my mouth admit.

It stabbed me,
like a rose's thorn.
Her immaculate facade
wrapped me in silky petals
then stabbed me with
those desolate eyes.

I still believe
that if I lost my sight,
and saw her no longer,
I would still see her that night.

What if time had stopped
In that very moment;
Never to continue?

What would you think,
If I had become the autumnal leaf,
Drifted away by the wind?

Would things be different
If I paused indefinitely?
Would have it been better?

A jolly, corpulent man, taller than high tide.
He hosts lavish parties for all, sparing no pence.
Living in front of media, nothing to hide.
Donates to charities in all his benevolence
He loves the people in his honest mind,
and the people love him, but they are blind...

Inside the saint lies an angry diamond;
Discretely rattling if one gets too close.
It’s venomous fangs puncture the media,
Infecting them at their already corrupt core.
Preying on the blind defenseless mice,
Robbing them of their “truly pitiful” life.
It puts it’s catch into blackbox charities,
They cycle it back with a tainted clarity.

The diamond holed it’s way into
This jolly saint of a man.
The deviant sunk it’s fangs into his flesh,
Infecting him with a truly visceral avarice.

All the bullets that hit the man
Were meant for the slimy scaly *******.
But the devious diamond deftly dodged...
And the man was broken forever.

All because the man was but a vicarious vessel
Of the snake’s diligently destructive divinity.

Wings for Mary,
Donate her wings of smoke,
To carry my mind ever so higher,
Where the wind is softly blown.
Mary Jane sounds like someone
I’d like to take to the smoke-zone

A browned, ******, and derelict oak door
That never should’ve been opened.

The vicarious visage of life
Hidden behind masks.
A broken mask
Means a broken man.

An endless window sits before me
The ebon gleam
Entices my forest green...

Contact starts with eyes
But what contact is left
In this empty planet.

It’s a way to calm oneself
After a tough day of work.
Clearing your mind,
Or filling it with other thoughts.
You feel refreshed at the end,
But it all hits back on you,
Like the hammer hits
The glowing metal,
Sending sparks of joy away.
Then you feel like
You should meditate again,
And so you do.

Drawing out the vile ichor
Which flows through my veins.
Cleaving out what’s left in me,
And leaving it to dry.

As you’ve taken out my sun,
Only moonlight remains.
And with the rising night,
I enjoy glistening pains.

Spiking into me like a soulless torrent,
Bringing a slight vignette to my vision.
I drag it to the side, feeling the skin part,
Feeling the cold metal searing my hot flesh.
Blood bubbles up,
but it’s not good enough.

Again.

I drag it through quicker, harder, deeper.
I want more pain.
I want less blood.
It still doesn’t pass the bar.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And on it goes...

My arm drips the blood I never could have cherished.
My patience with this process is almost out,
I feel a desperate hatred, as my desolate mind shuts down.

My arm becomes increasingly ravaged
by each sweet, disappointing stroke.
My mind runs out of patience with all my failures.

“**** it. I’m done.”

I raise my hand, the one holding my ever so cherished blade
And sweep the slice of a hopeless child;
a child who sees nothing left of themself but the pain they give.

The flaming arm releases some of its ruby blood,
Flinging it towards the walls and furniture,
Unable to hold onto it through the violent strike.

A vertical line of deep red divides its lighter counterpart,
A vertical line, far too shallow to stop my worthless heart.
“There’s always next time...” I think resignedly,
But I know that next time will fail as well.
I forgo the bandages once more,
And go back to what I was doing, ten minutes before.

Through all the disappointment I saw this as my savior.
But I know, that this was never any form of acceptable behavior.

Math is a wonderful subject.
Pushing numbers through
Variously evil algorithms.

But I cannot stop writing
During this intriguing class.
I want to listen, and I do
But I’m also weaving verses
Made up of muddy threads.

My math notebook has
A large quantity of poems.
And finding that one formula
Is like looking for that one minnow
In a pond of vexingly vigorous carps.

And I’m still working.
Each drop of sweat towards a goal,
One too far from my hands.
It’ll take a hundred years,
Or ten-thousand more.
I’m just the system’s... dog.

Among the trees,
And through the sky
Flying fast
And flying high
The million mile lightning
Will never die.

It seems to always be those
Who weigh on you the most
That will impressively impose
On the thoughts you host.

When disarmed in the fall,
the winter ground
Hits harder than all.
No way to brace
For the mind’s justice,
So I lay, cold and tired.

Possession:
To have something.

Unique:
One of a kind.

Something that is
Mine:
A unique possession.

Why can’t I say that
A N Y T H I N G
Of
E V E R Y T H I N G
Is mine?

Am I just a
Stolen existence?

Stolen:
To take without
prior permission.

Nothing stolen
Is ever truly mine,
So I am, without doubt,
A stolen personality,
Nothing more.

The glistening tide
Flowing in
From the sunset’s side.

A splashing red surf
The flow of a molten ocean.
But the red turns to black
As the sun finally turns it’s back.

A million stars to light the dusk,
A million lights to paint the mire.

Now I’ve found what I desire.

Misery fills me unforgivingly, once more,
But this time, it pushed me out the door.

I ran out with an unrequited rage,
Against the world that taunts me.
I took one breath after another,
Melding into the rhythm of my steps.
The darkness became my world
As the sun was shot out of the sky
By a luminescent arrow,
Only to be replaced by the “innocent” moon.
Yet I move on, step by step, trail by trail,
until I find my way home.

Now I am cold,
Fatigued,
Sore

And still full of misery

People always say
That mistakes are okay.
But what consolation
Have we made in preparation
For when mistakes become a blight
That decimates our planet’s light.

Under a dead mid morning sky,
I welcome your eternity
My time has long since drifted by;
Just a glimmer in the river.

A fleeting sparrow’s gentle breath
Bringing life to the air again.
In your silence, I stand once more;
A quiet child, looking for light.

My light, my wonder, lead the way.
Or are you just another moon;
Casting false light from the shadows?