I was there
Beneath it all
Stubbing my nose
Catching my eyes
On the most soulful of gifts

There was a promenade
Then music
A chef in a tall white hat
Shouting at the top of his lungs
As cracked eggs
Desperately tried
To reimagine themselves
As whole again.

They did not wish to change.

I am a poem
And I am nothing

I am a man
And I am nothing

I am a before
Yet to embark
On an after

Could this be it?

I think of
What could have been
If I had done this
If I had done that
And switch
Paralyzed.

The horizon
Fades at dusk

And is reimagined
At dawn

How I wish
I were content
To be ok
With such a simple

Routine

Progress
Achievements
Recognition
Advancement
Aw­ards

Realization

The ***** turns to tighten
To hold
Only to rust
Be forgotten
Put in the back of the pantry
Read from afar

The days of the sun
Are over

Darknesses lengths
Are upon us

Taste of the hubris of the moon
Its position is fixed
Such a fact, such a reserved space

Where will the moon go
But anywhere
But here?

And of us?
Where will our bones go?
Our me minds?
Our fleeting psyche?

The I is none other
But the billionth petal
Of a flaming sunflower
In a field
Surrounded by the identical

Taste ash
Mixed with honey
As the buzz of the bees

Fade.

just two kids
riddled with anxiety and depression
finding comfort in each other
loving each other
stumbling through life
hoping to make it out
alive

I know I shouldn't but I do
People don't want me to but I do
It hurts me
It hurts them to
I feel pointless and bad
I relapse and relapse and ******* relapse
They tell me self care
I do
It doesn't help
Nothing dose
They talk and consider
About what to do with the ****** up girl crying in the corner
They yell at me
Scream at me
To feel happy
To get better
But it feels like I won't ever
Ever get well