I spiral, and
I burn

'round and
'round

trying to catch
the sun

How I try to
become

someone you'd
know

but I'm not the
one

The days grow
old

the nights come
undone

There's so much
to forget

about the things
I never learned

The knives twist
and turn

the scars weave
and have spun

My tears, old
and young

'round and
'round

I spiral, and
I burn

trying to catch
the sun

A thread of wonder weaves through my mind,
As I ponder the what-ifs, the paths left uncharted
What if this life had unfolded elsewhere?
Would love have found me, or would hate have been there?

Would peace have been my companion, or would it have fled?
The questions swirl, like autumn leaves on a windy thread.
Yet, in this moment, I am here, not there.

The pears
bend the
crooked branches—
flushed
and drowsy
with sugar.

The juice waits
for something—
for its skin
to be bruised,
for a mouth
to bite in,
and when done
waiting—
suffer the wind
do what must
be done.

have you ever felt too alive?

ya know, so alive that ya feel like killing yourself like four or five times,

just to feel alive