The winding path connecting winds
Carrying haggard breath
Frantic and pleading.
My fear of soliciting unheeded perception
Leads my livestock to solitude
I found my gold yet
It travels to me in whispers
A test, as everything was before
The sense that led me
Along this path

The rusted edge
Stagnation remimds me
What colors I bleed
On my sleeve
Out my pores
What more portends this calm
Walking towards
The end

I'm cyclical
Not cynical unless I get
The opportunity

Clinical depression I bested
Walking through the eyes
So dark
So wet
So sweet how they reflect me
Lines pulled tight against the paper
Apathetic writing

How could I ever stand the sight,
Of myself unable to stand the sight of you?
Moonlight, oh, how it glistens across
this dew mixed sweat caressing this
liquid-like glaze your devilish form shakes I'm taken aback, simply taken with you.
Her beauty poetically contrasts with
Sounds of silent gasps
Then laughing.

in that flow state
where everything is a brushstroke

end to end
grow fade air is buried
I'm as ancient as I am unknown

period.

weary kids make the best
clearly dead adults;
my fabled gilded career tree.
if I built it they would've came, right?
cradled wilted;
the mirror me waving at me
when I'm not looking.

should have been a comma.

on the interstate
I feel like a virus in the bloodstream
of some massive beast.
I feel glad to be here.

I feel alot of things.

I feel ugly is underrated.
I feel apathy like hearing rats in the walls.

at least I feel anything at all.
really.