The black, the blue; pure white and red -
In brightness dimmed he lived by greedy whim,
Yet never thought so far ahead for naught -
Until he felt the gaze of Grim on him.

The sky, the sea; ***** brown and greeneries -
Hence fade away to soot 'til none remained,
Oh lovely memory of sceneries begot -
Lost; still destiny maintained the same.

The rich, the living; quiet enviosity and rain -
His heart slows from the veiled shadowed threat,
In vain, he held his presence close and taut -
Then and there, he lost his precious painful breath.

It's warm when I seek the cold embrace of frost and midnight chill. I can only grace my blessings and praise the sheltered stars that through the open, narrow window, the winds buffet in the late twilight; I lie awake, armed and emboldened with nothing but sophistry and unneeded nor unwanted thoughts.

Pretense.

In the absence of light, short of this device I hold that which replaced the venerable pen and paper I seldom used; my senses honed into cruising, fleeting, unnerving, banally nonexistent creatures that swim across my view.

Randomly.

They make me shiver as they come across memories I'd rather not remember. Why can't I forget? Or better yet, why can I not slumber when I thought I loved it so? I should be drowning in sweet, beguiling dreams. ****** upon realities outside the realm of known truths or histories or possibilities. Drifting upon all genres imaginable.

Stories.

Experiences old and new. Perhaps a journey nobody ever knew nor envisioned. But nay. My eyes remain open. While my mind wanders this little room I've grown accustomed to.

Enclosed.

Should I wake tomorrow, and I hope I do, nothing would greet me but the sun and the heat on my face, notwithstanding, maybe a little morning dew. Hence, I wish my tomorrow self the best of luck as I bid adieu to the hours lost staring into empty, void space.

Good night to all but me.

Delirium.
Here is a time when I know nothing
Yet seemingly everything, all at once.
Pretension.
Addicted in the feeling
Of a lifetime of exaggerations.
Encapsulation of a behavior
And vice I always envisioned
Feared, even.

Evasion.
A method I turn to;
To escape that which I always
Thought would shatter me
My whole personality.

But am I even sure what that is?

How abysmal, small, insignificant.
I realize at times
What I consider to be what
Matters most
Means nothing at all.

Hazy, fleeting, floating
In an atmosphere where I feel joy most—
Illusion. It wasn't joy at all
But freedom—

Still, it could be.

Uncertain.
Haphazard thoughts crash
Against my inhibitions.

Still, I am me.

I cry, laugh, smile, frown
For all sorts of reasons

Still, I will be.

For what I am:
The boy I knew
The man I grew to
Hating and Loving
Endearing and Enduring
Will always stay within.
I shall never forget
Who I was yesterday
And what I shall be
Tomorrow.

These confessions of realizations.
Things I never said—
Wanted to say,
Always
But never managed to.

To you who closed the doors.
To my struggling, elusive honesty.
Then inevitable it was
That I grew tired and besotted
With what we had
Where I could neither retreat
Nor advance towards Elysium.

Delirium.
Encapsulation—
Everything that I am
Towards the void
We find ourselves.
Finally, surrender was all I had
To save my drowning conceptual notion
Of all I perceive
Of whom I am
Of whom I was
And who I will be
From further despair.

Oblivion.
Emergence—
From the cocoon I've wrapped myself in.
Eternally questioning: am I free?
Have I grown from what we had
Or do I remain as myself,
Complete, as I view
The aspired self I lost
Along the way?

still.

Remembrance—
The Preservation of what needs to be
Propagating the lesions I earned
From you.
The imagination I conjured
In hopes of a better
Cause and outcome.

Finality. Nihility.
This moment shall be the end.

Of us.

Destroying what elated,
But ironically
Hunted all that I can give.

Remembrance—
The good times
The bad times
I shall carry
Perpetually
Wherever the winds,
The lightning,
and the Imaginary,
Shan't take
This delusional life I led.

I've Forgotten
what I wanted to be,
until a day came and went
where I was forced to remember.

I've Wondered
what could've been
had I willed this slothful self
to expand his meagre knowledge.

I've Imagined
had I the stamina to write
for a time uninterrupted,
would anything be different?

Could I be
happier
then?

Hence, in a faraway place
A lone man went on
busily
while the world continued to move
undeterred.

What was once lovers,
now turned foes for reason
unbeknownst
to the now, loner,
me.