My present hardly exists.
The day to day feels the same as 6 months ago until she made her appearance.
I've been neatly pressed into a mold to fill this cog shaped hole.
Steamland could use a sandwichmaker like me. My angry bread would laugh at how stupid the machine-like dreams money grubbers and land lubbers ring in my ears.
They fear the truth behind scenery reflected in my eyes.
So they'll ignore my laughing meat slapped on heated grain to feed and sustain the dreadhorde that fills their pockets till the change clatters across this sterile concrete for the rats to fight over.
She says she smiles when I'm happy.
I smile when she smiles is that too sappy?
Are we now trapped in happiness now the search has hit the last stop of this decade-long fix?
I hope so. I have my doubts and baggage, though I'm fairly certain I forgot it on the last train stop platform. Now can I ask all passengers to please head to the next car 10$ richer and not look back as we have only just met and need to fill up each others lack of *****?

My first love threw up on me on a carnival ride.
I kissed her a few hours later and knew she brushed her teeth.
We never ******. I suppose that's why she left me after three months.
My longest relationship in a nutshell.
I was 15.
My next love wanted me to fill the hole that loneliness makes.
I was lonely too, and she was cute, so I went along with the mistake.
We were never really together but a month.
She wanted ***, and I bought condoms to pleasure.
But she wasn't meant for me, so the plastic never expanded enough to give her pleasure.
We broke up the next day.
My next love was more gregarious.
A **** with short hair and body to **** for.
She liked me but it was one sided.
She was my brothers lover.
On my birthday she couldn't sleep and asked me to make her tired.
So we fooled around with oral for an hour.
I wasn't meant for her so no penatration occurred.
I feel it ended before it ever began, and my brother gave his blessing.
Though we don't talk much anymore.
My next love I met waiting tables.
She had long hair on one side
And a ******* attitude I couldn't get enough of.
She had a lover states away and was lonely.
So we kissed a few times, before the guilt could take her away.
She wasn't meant for me.
My next loves I would keep to myself, fow when I said anything, they would run afraid of the connection that I craved.
Now I've found my love.
I know she's meant for me.
Though I second guess my every action
She makes me forget the practice.
I love her for that.

unbeknownst to oceans,
the clouds they reflect
are their souls.

i scratch your endless names
into my wretched heart;
what is darkness anyway?

you'll be ok because you are already.
you'll see.

we were never not just
wisps of smoke twisting
slowly off the remnants
of someone else's hopes
yet to be made manifest.

maybe, they were.

éphémère.
perpétuel.

nothing ever ends
because it was nothing
to begin with.

I itch.
Like ticks and fleas are covering me
Like insulation flows along the air I'm breathing shallow to cease this itch that craves release from my incessant will.
A warden then?
I've held to many in contempt to acknowledge the comparison.
Shed now blame to another less gluttonous soul my eyes prop up to hang.
This itch, I bear the weighted shackles, my pierced abdomen cries for any patch to fill it.
I refuse the temptation, becoming now a wanderer of egrigore. Watch this gore pour out this festering itch more now than ever since it's initial scritch and scratch
My path behind a tar black trapping
My road ahead not looking much better.

The moss has it made
Growing beneath the gazing light
Prying over tops of trees for a glimpse.
How I long to have it grow on my fingers.
Becoming one of the zombied dead
Feeding stories shared beneath the trees.
My skull grins at the thought.
Lazing daily, scary fading traceless
Painless.
I long to trade places