Half a year's worth of memories became ashes in the wind
that dimmed the light from where I seemed to have fallen.
The autumn comes soon but monsoon storms await me,
the safety I found in your arms have seem to dissipate
and motions of decay seem to slowly envelop me.
Rigor Mortis
This feeling of missing you is similar to torture
I've spent a quarter of my lifetime wishing for someone like you
but then you came and took that away from me.
I am tired,
I am awake but I am tired,
and soon I will fade;
like a scorched moment, the ashes seem to float into the sky;
I'd lie if I weren't feeling hurt,
but the dirt seems to comfort me enough.

Half a year's worth of memories became ashes in the wind.

Write every word as if they will never cease to exist
diminish every demon within each single letter;
bring together the jovial gestures and utter anguish
captured in comforting language that manages to strike at hearts-
by breaking apart the tantalising daggers in souls and spirits.
Poetry is meant to be fierce, every piece of writing
is meant to encapsulate a lightning's roar:the thunder
and sunder the bits of the world that chooses not to fight.
Each write teases at breezes that aren't blizzards
and visits on topical interests that puts the world on its head.
Each write bled the soul of the poet and artist behind it
to bring sight to blinded eyes and give fantasies to reality.
The brutality of brandishing a knife is like a simile:
meant to cut simply at the way the world functions
and cross the junctions of where two things are alike but unseen.
Poetry is the trickling of sands in a world without deserts;
it confesses the soul of the one who holds the pen,
always meant to defend the views possessed by the poet,
holding closest every word as if it was still tied to the heart
and tear apart the fabric of a world too darkened by shadows.
Poetry is an arrow that isn't meant to stop the heart, but stop the hate.

I want to:
die in a breath,
live in a heartbeat,
chase a sunrise
like the wind
under a butterfly's wing,
smile like the fishes
aren't watching,
hear the cricket croak,
soak in vivid poems,
become lost in the stars,
chase the cars
that I can't afford,
raise the hairs on my neck
from the affection of a kiss,
teach a kid that
heartache is natural,
witness a meteor shower
and its ashes,
hear a pigeon
give a soliloquy
and watch a rose
frozen in mid July.
I want to touch dreams
and dance in nightmares

I want to crawl into a ball and dissapear,
hear the bells of joy ring for me just once,
hear the song of the people in ecstasy,
chant I'm blessed to be alive with others
like mothers seeing her baby brought to this world
the pearl soul and red feet that makes the pain fleet.
I seek that kind of satisfaction, that kind of happiness;
as a cloud carries us to elevated heights,
the nights are meant for closed eyes, sleep and dreams;
not terrified screams and non-stop train of thoughts.
The train has left, the station is closing,
STOP THINKING! LEAVE!
I believe one day I may just be close to seeing that train
right before a rainstorm dampens my eyes.
I have waited for a train that doesn't stop where I stand,
I am...not sleeping once again.

**I want to crawl into a ******* ball and just dissapear.

There's a barbed wire encasing your heart
no broken parts need to be held together by it
the silent sound of blood trickling down my arm
the harm I've done to myself led to no result,
like a knife in a cult I am covered in blood
and the blood I bled barely seemed to move you.
This was usual because the barbed wire ribcage
has kept your heart safe but has also kept it safe.

There's a barbed wire encasing your heart
and I promise I wil let the wires break
but never mistake it for your heart.

There's a barbed wire encasing your heart
not meant to keep things in but to keep things out,
to keep doubt on the realities of love,
to feed enough companionship in loneliness.