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To heaven from earth
But your arms are heaven in life
Although I haven't found you yet

But with every passing breathe
I step closer to you still
And it's that thought that keeps me afloat
I could **** these feelings out
But my last lover ruined that
For me

And I can't even blame her

But I don't want to be like her
Because I did enough of that
Already, for both of us

And isn't it ******,
My friends,
How heartbreak
Can do that to a person?

And where's the drive now, huh?
Why's the release locked up
A ****** vault door?

And now the winds howl
And the rain pours
And the house creaks
And the blinds are shut

Oh what a day, a lovely day
To work to death
Or to work for death
Or to cheat her into submission
It's all a verbose analogy I make
Out of fear for death herself

And I've seen some who chase her
Like a calf to a cow
And spend their whole lives running
To or from, it doesn't matter which
I've seen it happen with my own eyes
And they're still scared regardless

For death is to life
As love is to the heart
And the sun is to the sky
She's fleeting, but inevitable
And we're obligated to do something
For or about, it doesn't matter which

So some work to death
And some work for death
And I try to cheat her into submission
Yet she still lives in me
In verbose analogies I make
Out of fear for her inevitability
Life and death are twin siblings
The wind is gusting
And shingles are flying about
It's like
Nature is describing my composure
And she speaks of it with such flourish
*** is easy
And so is romance
If you know where to look
But I'm learning
What I really crave
Is defeat
Sign the card, O apathy
Get well soon, I tell myself
As I hold my hand out
To grasp what's left behind
In the aftermath
In the wreckage

Light the fuse, O apathy
With time being a hidden bomb
Ticking, sparking, molded to fit
Into sentence structure
And verse form
Into handwritten letter

Save the day, O apathy
Take me to a different place
Where weather never changes
And the earth doesn't circle the sun
Never burning
Never freezing

Twist my words, O apathy
Contort them to your whimsy
Play this melody over again
Until the notes crawl to the gutter
A time to rest
A time to recover
I had a voice as a kid
And as quiet as it was
I was so much louder then
To crave the intangible
Like it's light and I'm a plant
Or like it's water and I'm a fish

If I was a fish I wouldn't need attention
I could swim, yeah, I could breathe
Maybe even suffocate in a fisherman's net

To crave the intangible
Like it's needed to live
A new class, up there with
Food and water
But why?

I used to think I feared abandonment
I probably still do, actually
But this is different
Maybe it's replacing my self image
To know I'm desired by others

But I dream I could be that fish instead
Black and white
Striped in patterns over my life
Never grey
Never green
Never red
But always new

Black and white
These words that make me tired
Experienced in vivid contrast
In forests
In concrete
In health and wellness

Iron and treasure
Painted by the rain
To rust
To nothing
To be buried under words and houses

Black and white over again
****** out to deafen the thoughts of
Situations replaying in my head
I said and I meant every one of those words
In these imaginary scenarios
That never happen, a circumstance of my action or inaction
This is a breaking news headline
One insignificant man thinks he's dying
And now he's crying and calling up his friends
To complain, always the same, always out of luck and out of his mind
I swear to god this **** runs thick
Like every chance I get I hop on board
And then get told to get back off and wait my turn
It's a pain, and I get used to it sometimes
But I'd be lying if I said it ain't still a crying shame
When I get in line on time but still miss the train...
Of thought is off track again, back in
Unhealthy places and I know it's not right
How I'm never comfortable
With the comfortable and lay awake at night
At 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, and the sun's up again
I guess it's time
To pick myself up for another round
A cage match, nothing but fists
And I'm on myself again, boy am I winning this time
Where was I going with this?
Wait where am I at now?
****, man, if that isn't a metaphor for how I've been living my life
It's done, poems up, everyone go home
It's a celebration of life
Every day

From the lady that held
The door open at Starbucks

To the guy that burnt
That department store down up North

It's a journey and a half
From where I am to where they're at

So celebrate, you beautiful idiots
You lovely monsters, celebrate

It's a match between you and
The rest of the whole **** world

I know I'll be celebrating out here
So pour me another one!
Maybe if I relax for once
I can see clearly and find
What I really want to know
Or maybe even
That I don't need to hide

Or maybe that's optimistic
And I need to sit back
Just go with the flow
Brave the waters,
Dodge the rocks
And get swept into the undertow

But maybe I don't know and
Maybe I never will
However at this point in life
With where I've been
I need to believe that
I'll find
A greater truth if I keep digging
Fortuitous are my glances
Through coffee shop windows
As the strangers pass by
In cars and by heavy step

What fleeting glimpses
Of lives I'll never know
Exist beyond this glass portal
Founded with warm drink in hand

And I think of their lives
What drives them to pass
To venture the places they're off to
And experience that which I've never dreamt

And fortuitous as am I
To browse the wonder
That exists in the heat of other's glow
Through coffee shop windows
I met a girl in the city once who
Was the emerald of Seattle
She loved the arts
And the passion of the
Common man -
It was inspiring
Told me
The countryside is all wrong
And I believed her

We'd walk
The sidewalks between
Coffee shops and bakeries
Vacancy and marketing
The line
Businessmen and the homeless
All these people
Like mantises feeding on
Each other's heads and hands
All this opportunity

Then she was swept away
At the light of the
Next city crowd we passed
So I went home again

I met another
From my city who
Told me
That art is all wrong
And that dried all the
From my heart
But I believed her

So I followed her along
To find out what
Art meant
And it was
Sleeping in
Gluttonous love
That was never
Satisfied by just one man
But I think
Was scared of
Committing to
The opportunity
And I have to confess
I write about love a lot
Because it's
My favorite way to die

And I'll tell you
When the fires of Hades
Shine bright
Behind blue-grey eyes
Or opal and brown
Or whichever **** color
My heart craves
In this moment
It'll be the death of me

And I warn you
It'll be worth every second
And I asked him, I said,
"What was the first thought you had as a child?"
"You know, before consciousness took hold?"
He looked at me confused in the mirror
"What was the first thought you had when you woke up this morning?"
He uttered in reply
Flowers. A field of them.
As far as the eye can see.
Colors. Every color I've ever seen.
For miles and miles and miles.
From here to eternity.
A sea of ******* flowers.
Where nothing matters.
Except the sun.
And the air.
And I could be free there.
I could sit in them.
I could trample them.
I could burn them to the ground they grow from.
A field of them.
And one of me.
Is too much.
To watch them fade.
From the sun to the night.
Or life into death.
Leaves and pedals on the ground.
In meadows.
In fields.
In eyes.
In minds.
Flowers of every color.
And it's still too much.
As if looking direct upon gilded summer rays, she blinded my every sense. For after one glance upon her blue-grey eyes, the world became ephemeral, and every breath felt ethereal.  It was as if history melted away, and every book, every photo ever taken, told a story of whatever led to this moment. Chaos. Fate. Anxiety and courage. I don't know. But just as soon, time showed its transcurrent ways, and she had left. Minutes passed, hours passed, eons aged every pore, but I had just arrived. I gazed upon heaven and got lost in the garden of eden, and now, falling back to my seat, I watched every memory I never had walk, just feet away. She is gone now, and as dreams pass in sleep, sometimes too, do dreams pass in wake. I sit frozen.
I just woke up
It was supposed to snow today
But it didn't
I hear a baby crying
In the upstairs apartment
And although it's almost noon
I haven't left this bed yet
There's really nothing profound
About this morning
But I guess there's really nothing
Profound about any morning
Until we find a meaning
In the mundanity
Or put it there ourselves
So I think
I'll try to do that,
Good morning
I was just another game you threw in the trash
Garage sale splendor
Waiting to get picked up by another lover
It's a wonder that we made it this far
With your habits and my sadness and all
And I love you, I still do, like weeds in the garden that we planted
And I wish it lasted, I really do
I could sit back, and my world view
Wouldn't be this slanted
But I'm sheltered, and not by rules nor virtues
But by my optimism in situations like this
I never got a final kiss
So this is goodbye, good year, good times
Hard times, soft times, and whatever else ******* rhymes
This is heartbreak
For your sake, and not for mine
I want to burn up all my time
Because this **** happens nearly every night
Every time I close my eyes
It's your face that fills my sight

I think this might be trauma
Or maybe it's karma
Coming to steal my heart
And it lures me in with your voice

I ride this roller coaster of
Different emotions every day
I know they're in my head
But I never have a say

It takes time to come back down
Is all that my friends can preach
It'll be okay, Brandon, as long
As I keep trying to make the reach

And sometimes I believe that
And sometimes I can allow it
So I keep walking, sometimes striding
To keep myself from checking out

But all that said, I'm never fine
And I'm never at ease or at rest
Sometimes these thoughts of you are torture
As I'm still trying to be my best

And maybe it's for myself
And maybe it's to show you that I can
But the reason honestly doesn't matter
As long as I'm better in the end
I say
Like I deserve all the attention the world has to give

What'd you do today?
I reply
Like there's a grand scheme that's hidden behind locked doors

Oh nice, what for?
Oh what?
No one wants to talk to you?
******* for saying that to me
To me...

Narcissistic hero
And his friend
The antagonist
Crossed paths in the chat window today

Friends are more like enemies
Because I keep them close
It's not right, it's not right
Always making friends of my foes

It's not right, it's not right
And they're right to be upset
At the narcissistic hero
Whose story isn't over yet

And his friend the antagonist
Postured neatly, types away
All their problems and what
Does the narcissist say?

******* for friendship
And ******* for my problems
I'm sorry I snapped
Now what's YOUR problem

And it flips over
And I'm back again

I say
I don't own a gun because
Too many of my friends
Would take a bullet for me

And when I fall in love
I fall like the bomb of Nagasaki
Where everyone gets the flak

So, whoever is out there, answer me:
Is the enemy of this war myself?
I feel
For I am a Piscean artist
With statues
Built from marble sentiment

I feel
As I search for love
Holding hands
With ever-bitter longing

I feel
For I am drowned in depth
Where winds rattle
My heart and the house she lives in

I feel
For I am human
With a fire kindled emotion
And there is nothing deeper
I'm over you
But I'm not
I pass benches
We used to sit
And drink coffee
I brought between
Your classes
And this is painful
To write
But every time
I see those benches
My heart tears
All its sutures
And I die
A little more
So I wait
Until I start
To think that
I'm over you
But I'm not
clipped wings
open cage door
deafening stillness
learned obedience

and so it goes...
I've killed myself twice already this year
I've sat back and watched my life go
I let it happen too,
I just let her pack her bags and leave
I've never met a beauty that was
Without the pain it inevitably brings
Never a gift without tribulation
And even nature gives thorns to its roses

It's a law that everybody and everything obeys

But who are we
To not question this natural authority
To not seek answers in the first person
To just lay back in all this sickly comfort
And turn a blind eye on impossibility

It's a ******* waste, if you ask me!

And yet I am the optimistic hypocrite
Stuck in the same trenches he's dug
Pacing, pacing, pacing his daily rituals
In stagnant comfort, without impossibility
Running from death, and never fighting it

So be that soft beauty, please

Somebody has to and it can't be me
I saw a dead baby bird on the ground one day as a kid. It had fallen from its nest much too soon and must have died upon impact. Or maybe it died in the nest and fell afterwards. That's mortality. That's fragility. That's a god ****** metaphor for everything. And nature beat me to the punch.
It's a treasure trove out there!

So many faces
And hands
And bodies
And words
And voices
And conversations
Of love
And deceit
And growth
And defeat
And it's all ******* happening

Right now
Love isn't polite
And love isn't happy
It isn't sunshine
It isn't flowers in bloom
It's not even human
Love isn't fair
And it isn't a mind at peace
Or your favorite pet
Or in the books you read
Love isn't alive
Love's not even dead

But don't listen to me
I've never even had it
In almost bitter fashion
All lovers clash
Be it in backward glances or
In each other's embrace
They clash
And that's beautiful

Some fade away like a summer's night
Whilst others outshine the fullest moon
Others even turn to primal escape
And it's all beautiful
I've never been a kid person
I've never felt comfortable making them smile or laugh
I'd honestly rather just leave the room
And I hate the birds
That sit outside my window every ******* morning
Chirping their little useless heads off
And the rain
I hate the rain
But only when it ruins my clothes or ruins my day
And I'm angry
As I write this, and as I live through another day
How I can let myself hate so much
Yet give so much praise to love as well

And it's *******
It's *******
How the most fleeting things have the greatest impact
And those that hang around upset me further
So I hate those birds
And how carefree they fly away
When a car goes by or the branches shake in the rain
And I'm jealous
How I wish I could fly away with them
And chirp my useless head off in the morning

But these metaphors fester, and it's all *******.
I've never felt so tired
As I do today
Like my eyes are
A showpiece
At a carnival where
The ringmaster, in all his glory
Prods the elephants to roar
And my eyes are the elephants

And frankly
I've been worse
And more tired
On other days

But days are experiences
And experiences are change
And change is difference
And difference is ****

So today
I'm so tired
I could sleep into death
And bless my afterlife with
Morning indifference

While the imps and others
Laugh at their own kind
And dance around and sing
Their songs
Until I wake up
And do it over again
Mentally speaking
Every year
I feel
A little older
And a lot
More free
But I hope to feel that way every day
So birthdays don't mean much to me
You were always my favorite
The one who hurt
The one who listened
And I speak in the past tense
Because that's
The only self I know
And I gave her my heart
My soul
That selfish
Excuse for a woman

She was sick
From cover
To ******
And I only knew it
Too late

But I'm self destructive
And sitting here, wanting
To share my victories with her

Maybe it'd **** her
While killing me too

For the sake of

That god awful woman
Deserving of nothing
But burning coals

I wish she'd burn me down
She was a bridge
Built of her own design
No water could stymie us

But soon people came
To use her as a diving board
And she was much too fragile
To handle that burden

So she crumbled away
I am woodrot on the tree of life, and flames where new growth attempts its bloom.

I am the thunder warning of lightning upon the deaf.

I am ink.

I am starvation of the mind, of the heart.

I am a bone to the wolves and coyotes, I am a blanket of dew.

I am coldness and I am ember, dark but only until the touch. A kiss, a blessing, an ending.

I am death, and I am nothing.
There are three constants in life
And happiness lies in their acceptance

The first is time,
Which has existed longer than us, and will outlive all of our problems

The second is ourself,
The only one you can truly know

And the third is death,
Which is something I haven't quite gotten figured out just yet
Think of a fish with no water to breathe
That's the state of my heart
Where love is oxygen

Now think of a man who's tired
Of the cycles his emotions live in,
Nomadic from happy to sad and over again
That's the state of my well-being

Now think of all the pills
And capsules and liquids
And tablets and vials
In your medicine cabinet right now
A feast to hungry eyes

And I'm here, with all this desire
To live, and the desire lives in my optimism
Will the next cycle break, as the big bang
To start life again from the top?
Am I patient enough for that?

So I write
To distract from these unhealthy thoughts
At least long enough to
Realize they're unhealthy
Sometimes I wonder
If my handwriting was yours
Something you left for me in another life

One day I'll turn the page
And see a message you wrote out

And other times I wonder
If I could be your favorite book
In a story about both of us

That one day you'll turn the page
And then the next, until you've read it
A hundred times
Clouds, and the ******* sun. The heatwaves leading to this foggy haze, like dreamt days, and I'm here as a shell.

Candle scents and incense and common sense, I don't have any. Like money spent, and time spent, the ******* days we slept away. If I knew, and I knew, if I only knew, I wouldn't have shut my eyes, these tears I've cried, this taste of spite, and I hate it.

I hate the way she sleeps and doesn't talk to me.

It's deafening, the silence, the panic attacks that come beckoning, leaving me a wreck, I sing. Along.

To all these sad songs, the words replace my phone, lit up by her name, and I wish, I wish

For nothing else and nothing more than time away, to be spoken for, no more, it's no more, I'm no more. Than dirt to her.

So pick myself up, to shut up, bottle it in, and march on, I'll march on.

I'm at war with myself, battles fraught in cannon fire. Ballistic projectiles, and I never smile. I haven't seen my teeth in weeks and I can't blame her for that, it's me. It's on me.

But her face is in everything, the window glass, to the balconies of the apartments my bus drives past. Familiar routes, they haven't changed, but I have.

So which way is home, can someone point me there? I'm lost, my phone's dead, and I can't even stand up.

But I'll march on, I'll march on. Infantry zest for the peace they'll bring. And so will I. I'll get there, I'll get there, with the sun in my eyes and a new cut for my hair. I'll get there.
And a sense of right and wrong

For whatever is best for yourself

                                    And we are
All just temporary in existence

In a chaotic world
We always seek

In romance
We want our other half

In ***
We want our perfect partner

In business
We want our perfect employees

In family
We want our perfect siblings

But that's not how
This cruel world
**** the butterflies while they're still caterpillars
Because they might just be moths in the end
That live for nothing more than soaking in your light
And beating their heads and wings against the bulb until it goes out

**** the optimism that we're all born with
Because it'll sink underground with you one day
And the people, the mourners, they'll all gather to grieve
Reliving a dead man's struggles as if they were their own

**** your honesty because no absolutes exist in this world
No truth nor lie means anything more than you do
And you mean a lot, you know you mean so much
So **** the worries and **** the obligation you put on your poor soul

**** your heart and let it bleed dry just one more time, love
Because no tree ever grew without shedding a few leaves
No tower was ever built without a hole dug for a new foundation
So **** your past and even your present, but live on and embrace the unexpected
If you look up at the night sky
After even the owls have turned in for rest
What do you see then?
I see fear, memories,
Things I could have done differently
And every star, a beacon
A dimly flickering reminder
Like ashes off cigarettes
That fall gently onto sidewalks
Destined to be trampled by a thousand soles
And sometimes I see satellites
Drifting clumsily by
And in this metaphor I've spun
What do they represent?
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