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winter Mar 2019
youth in dying
heaving through childed lungs
to drink is to release in the barren
the tide of the moon's seed
depart of my planting
and live radiating the being
i see her there,
my love, my love
i am guided across our departure
my moon, my moon
the very first sight of my possessed infantry
infatuated with illuminated isolation
loneliness
i felt it in you,
feel it in me
deceitful boldness to candy the night
i am obsessed
**** the light from the sun
and pour unto me
every of your unhinged desires
oh
winter Mar 2020
oh
resonate
can i tell you of how i met the void?
i long to
but the story itself is too long
i travel only to search for someone
who's ears are as patient
can i tell you of how i met my death?
i long to
if it weren't for my heart that scratches from the inside out
every time i speak of my one unspoken instant
my so solemnly celebrated instant
that haunts me and drives me and revises my charge
i take each step only for the instant that urges me forward
and forwardly marches like a puppet
i am my own string and bones of a larger hand
the one from deeper down
deeper than my own hands can reach or grapple
i can't blame myself for each and every person
i've morphed myself into being
unknowingly, unspoken
i can no longer blame myself
for that of which i have no control, that of which being myself
it is the drive, it is the core, it is the heart, it is the hand,
it is the instant of my death
i long to tell you the story of it
tell me you have the time
but only tell me if you have it
if you are ready to spend the march
not by stopping time
but by defying its presence
by shredding it into something greater than
what we could ever acknowledge it to be
it is the time spent
it is the words spent
it is the surging and the opening
and the long walk into this aching direction
let me tell you this story
oil
winter Apr 2022
oil
an exorcist
mines in my brain like its digging for gold
ow that hurts mister
can i eat dinner now please
winter Mar 2019
what a heavy heart i hold
when an ex-lover tells me
of his 2a.m. window
how he stares through it and cries
he longs to be held,
by anyone, though not me
but i can sing for him
through little videos of folk
and little words of honey
"I'm older now than I have any right to be
Old enough to repaint and young enough to sell
I feel tired
I want to be held
I'm just
Cold"
I told him once how life was short,
but love grew old
My trust is nervous
he has the right to be so dear to me
I'll hold this pain forever
I'll let it rest within
every weathering and lacing moment
where the knots in his hair have been
I still have this window
I still have his heart
I still feel his warmth
even without him
winter Mar 2019
release our tensions
and dispel of this worry
after all that we've been through
your words and my words
my hurt and your guilt
to reconcile our hands
and disprove every doubt
i lend you my hand
joyful and beautiful and miserable man
you're confused and i'm tired
i'm confused and you're tired
however many times it comes back
to you, to me
let's try this again
winter Sep 2022
i am a star of bridled rage
i cannot be picked apart
but this burning
will grow and grow
into years of yearning and
open wounds that can't seem
to neither worsen nor heal
winter Feb 2020
Complete disregard
To the extent of your exposure
How vile could I be
My empathy is in vain
winter Jun 2019
for now I will keep my little papers
because they bring me joy
but one day I'll chop myself up like a piece of clay
grey and soft and firm
to a small blank surface
ready to mold
ready to begin a new road
cross my fingers
not to sicken
cross my heart
not to remorse
mourn my memories that leave me still
but break from this proper cycle
fill my trashcan full of papers
that soon will empty
by then, there will be nothing
I could hope to do
my treasures are fleeting
and I, for once, will be new
quite literally about me being a Hoarder as a kid because I was obsessed with remembering everything... I still have little old sketches from a decade ago, little worksheets from my 2nd grade class...
winter Feb 2023
glamour associated with parking garages
the fancy places they connect to
hotels and theatres and law firms downtown
stepping out in all black, always
winter Feb 17
that we are empty space,
I feel this the most

just the empty
just the space
winter Feb 2022
i'm still in love with nate
from honor choir camp
the skinny kid with the fringe who
played his guitar
at the other end of the field
i never spoke to him
i'm still in love with phoebe
who kissed my hand
in the underground tunnels
below the stage
before the performance
i'm still in love with max
who used to run the flies
i used to dream of him, and
he never knew my name
until years later when
we were somehow making out
in his car
i won't text him back but i'm
still in love with the boy in the flies
i'm still in love with eleanor
who would chase me on the playground
the first coolest person i ever knew
i'm still in love with you
i'm still in love with jess
my first (online) girlfriend
who had short blonde hair
and sewed her own pretty blue
dresses
one day you disappeared
i dont know if youre alive
i'm still in love with jordan
who would talk to me about his books
called his desk an island where he and i
(the cool kids)
would sit and blush
you hugged me goodbye and
well i thought you were gone for two weeks
turns out you'd moved out of town
i'm still in love with lyric
i stabbed him with a pencil
because i thought his name was cool
he switched schools after that
guess it wasnt the right move
i'm still in love with bailey
you were good for me
i don't think i was good for you
we're too different, i think
but it was wonderful
when it lasted
and i'm sorry
i am still in love with you
i'm still in love with
some horrible guy
i knew you as matthew
you didnt ruin me
but there's no making up for the hurt you caused
you were the hardest to recover from
i did it
but still some nights i long for your apology
in the form of sweet kisses
looking back,
you never meant for them to be sweet
and yet,
part of me is still in love with you
i'm still in love with afton
you are the sun to my moon
talking to you brought me endless
comfort and joy
i had never been so open, or seen
everything about you made sense
everything about you made me want to be a better person
i loved watching your games and your art
i would draw you with charcoal in my diary
which i still read
just to see how you were the solace and relief
of a time so terrifying and lost
no matter what was happening
in the world
at least there was you
in your own little bubble

but i couldn't do the same for you
we are only friends, from now on

i'm still in love with you
winter Aug 2019
they don't understand my horror
when I tell them 'I'm afraid to die'
they don't understand
how this feeling is new to me
how, for once, I could see myself aging
how, now, it seems the stakes keep raising
joy cannot be ripped from you
if you do not possess it
but now that I do
this feeling is new
for the first time, in my short life
I'm truly afraid to die
winter Sep 2019
finding solace in thinking
that death comes in multiple stages
rather than an instantaneous there-then-not
to live is within our own conscience
and who's to say that we do not live elsewhere
to be a string in another memory
that is my only life after death
winter Apr 2022
I miss you, prairie lands
Honey dew, grasses
Where have the fields gone
now erupted into hills
no more vastness only
full
where is the room for air
and where
are the puppies who burrow in the soil
and the big blue skies who's hand
pumps clouds like giant fists of love
where do they lay
but in my memory
winter Nov 2019
I hear a noise that is simple
a ringing that may suffice my temper
If I can find the substance
which allows my mind to whirl
like a spool un-spun,
dissolving into a single thread
the single point that I believe myself
to descend into mortality
and rid of my own conscience
My, spine, undone, will lead my way
through an abyss of my own creation
to part from myself and love the soil
to become the roots rather than possess them
it is a dream that I will have only now
a fantasy that will die together with me
until I am no longer together myself
but an unending string, webbed in coincidence
with a prayer on my tomb,
and the earth on my lips
winter Oct 2022
little room in new york
on a high floor
over looking these lights
this all came to me
in the form of many dreams
i can sense it
the end, an end
something sublime
the terror-ous kind
draws near
winter Nov 2021
black void
behind the streetlight
don't walk there, don't go there
turn around, walk back
dripping from under you
heavy object inside
on top
crushes you
go back
you're lost
go back
winter Nov 2023
by my heart, may i be fierce
in rounding up you nihilistic
prey to destruction
mother's arms will strangle you
from dropping past the black horizon
squeeze and break you from
falling leaving bruises leaving
life
winter Oct 2022
It is taking every piece of strength within me to keep pursuing my business on earth.
If I found it in me to want to keep trying, the Earth will find a way to swallow me, still.
Either way, it seems, I will always have unfinished business.
Is it more tragic then, to take things into my own hands, or moreso for wanting to live and then being struck by unhappy fate in the midst of my work?
And do I pursue tragedy?
Yes. I do.
So here I am, mustering all the will I can to keep trudging.
So we shall see how far I can tread this path.
winter Jun 2022
my childish nightmares
have started to come to life
creeping around the corner,
down the stairway
dark endless rooms with no doors
to exit or enter
launched into nothing
by an impossible swing

the dark

as death waits outside the window i
can't help but feel it coming back to me
shadows beginning to dance
exactly like they used to
whisping and waltzing
but most of all
watching, waiting
reassuring me that the end is
quite familiar
the end is
a dream
of a long ago girl
so new to life
so close to death
having only spent as much time
as she ever could or will

death is a lot like how it was before you were born

i'm fortunate, in that
i have a good memory
i'm unfortunate, in that
i can remember the pain
the longing
being late to the party
being a whisperer of stars

being so

enveloped

in

the dark
winter Aug 2019
I want to recreate with you
all our missed chances
Forge a sensory moment
From the unhinged twitches
that our bodies bury underground
I'll direct you this time
I want to see what's in you
winter Aug 2022
it wasnt that
raw, choking
animalistic death that we read about
and call the hard, real truth
it was unearthly,
it was paranormal
like a demon holding her
up by the throat
and slamming her down
twisting her limbs
and trying to escape from her insides
it was
a horror scene
but more cold
more violent
there was no reason
for it to happen that way
at that time in the morning
i can still hear it
i can still see it
i can still smell it
i am bending over her as we speak
witnessing all
and being unable to do a thing
about it

for something so natural as death
you'd think there'd be an instinct,
a chemical in our brain
that allows us to deal
a way of processing and
understanding that
what we dealt with was real

but there is no such thing,
not in our bodies,
not in our souls.
apathy for the world
misanthropy aside
i cannot sit by
and watch the world
race itself into nothing
this universe alive, aching
shaking this God by the shoulders
and pleading for life,
life
let me have life
for a moment
and I will never speak of it again
I will forget all I know
I will return to the dark,
to the formless, to
nothing
with no one to watch me go
with no one to hold my hand
I am vanished
I am ceased

When a tree falls down with no one around to hear it, it never happened at all
Because as it falls,
on the forest ground,
on the hardwood hallway floor,
it surrenders itself
to the infinite void
and as it dies
the forest dies with it
the past dies with it
and as all the data decays
there is nothing left
to indicate
and with no way
to ever find out
that anything was ever even there
to begin with

this is the end of our universe
this is the grand finale
of this little cycle of existence
and we are watching it
right from home, folks!
with not a **** clue
of what we're looking at
at all

We can conceptualize
we can philosophize
we could be right
and yet
as we cross that line
of that great event horizon

it will not have mattered
and we will have learned
nothing

and to nothing

we will return.
winter Mar 2019
i wished to be whimsical
but my words remained bitter
a cold, guttural stinging
to be everything was to dream
to have something to prove
to love and be loved
i still cannot tell whether or not
it is greater to live in the fantasy
to wake and lift into your mind
to blur your vision, finding any reason
any reason by any means
to wake at all
is it better for one to wake if everyday
they have to envision candy-canes
as the railing on their staircase
if they insist on their futures
or pray to their God
"Don't let me suffer"
is it better for one to wake if everyday
they dye their hair a new colour
just to stop thinking of how they will rot
and how it will smell
and how long it will take
to completely crumble
so deep into the soil that the bone dissolves
do these thoughts make people "open"?
knowledgeable?
sentimental?
wise?
even if, every morning, it may as well nearly cost them their lives?
how severely should truth be praised?
do not medicate me for i can alter my vision
if it takes a fantasy to let me be real
then god bathe and drown me
in the worst of whimsicalities
winter Aug 2019
one of the worst feelings
is being too depressed to *******
winter Feb 2020
what a special time
we were all special people
I can only imagine
the purest form of unity
were our games in the woodchips
one by one
I see you again
I wasnt the only one
Who remembered everything
They, too, remember everything
We've all felt this loneliness
Six years in the void
Are we too weak to reconnect
The lot of us have split
winter Mar 2019
god do i think i love her
lord do i want to hold her
feel everything that makes her so bold
striking and evil and red
where now she is so keenly radiating
a powerful and tiny joy
before she was so sharp
so dark
years crawl beneath primeval distances
still her scent remains prominent
i was eleven years old when i first saw her
a flower in her hair, a buttoned blouse
i sketched her every day
enigmatic attire
she adored
two years pass and i am in her basement
2am, face painted white and red
we watch Moulin Rouge
and we talk of moons and suns
and in the morning i use her shower
for the day, i would have her scent

she is deeply gone and will i remember
her gracious form
and flirtatious laughter
her glasses and her tap shoes
and her will
a girl who outreaches her own arms
she is soaring today
mythological in word
in her voice
in her skin
in her black nail polish and biker rings
in everything
that everyone hated her for doing

in her
winter Sep 2022
my childhood self
is inhibiting my body
like an old queen
returned to her throne
this time with no feeling
this time with nothing
winter May 2021
Virginia, I'm feeling you tonight
Like you're waiting outside my window
Arms outreached with Jacques Rigaut
Elliot I hear you mumbling around
Why now, when you've been quiet for so long?
Cradle me with dreams of California
Under those Teasdale Stars
Drown me like you did to River
I cant take the Mayakovsky life
It's like you're whispering, Brandis
But i hear you,
Your presence moves me
Closer to something
That I'm too scared to see
And yet
You won't stop coming for me
Until the end. This,
I know
winter Jan 2020
Congratulations!
for some reason
this kinda ****
is the reason I got abandonment issues
winter Jan 2020
watching videos on how
suicide is the answer
and wondering why
my mental health is depleting
ayye
winter Jan 2022
A rose long risen will whither
Imprison it’s blushed palm
At the sight of you
Who do you see
in your reflection? Your
complexion puts to shame
the foliage unnamed who
bloom for all to view
But you
A shine in the dirt
A spark in the night
May hide away from all of sight
But I
Can see you clearly
Quartz and Garnet
Beams of light with
Rays of gold and red, you
Paint the sunrise Scarlet
not my usual style, indeed this is for a fanfic
winter Feb 2022
Who are you?

I came to your new house when you cried
Your life was falling apart, I Saw.

When he died,
when everyone else left for the night
and you opened up to me
you were still searching for yourself
and nothing made sense
I heard you
I knew you

and when you slowly revealed so many bits and bits and bits
your mother and your father
your brother and your sister

your family your history the
day you showed up in braces, even though your teeth were already Perfect.
"they told me i have to be perfect."
you said.

in that moment, i knew you.

we drifted apart, of course,
mostly because i didnt belong there
but still, but still,
i did know you

but years have passed
i watched them pass you too
blue gowns and suede shoes
the entire lot of you
in one grand assembly line
all looking exactly the same

no, i didn't know any of them
and there was no trace of you

more time has passed
actually, i've traveled far away
i see y'all exclusively now in photos

but it scares me.
"kristi"
is in your eyes
i dont know what theyve done to you
or what youre doing
in that evil town
that steps over the people it buries

but i'm looking at you now
i've never seen anyone so
far
gone.

there is no trace of you
i can't even recognize you
your mother is in your face
your father is in your dress
those things i know,
because thats how i know you
but the rest isnt true

so who the hell are you?
to all of the girls who go to south dakota state university
winter Feb 2023
I've decided to start treating myself as a person and not just an entity. Behold the beholder of the planet, except perhaps I can be perceived, too.  This means I have to be more careful, in fact.
What is the line between safety and delusion?
Suddenly I am no longer able to expose my soul to the world, as if releasing my secrets into a dark void, an unfavorable algorithm.
I am, in fact, here.
I am, in fact, perceivable.
winter Jul 2022
by a strange
impossibly unique
sequence of events
the universe woke up
and saw itself
sky
winter Aug 2022
sky
object in the sky
we are witnessing the end of the world
we are witnessing our collapse
we are partaking in the final joyride of earth
a couple more swings around the sun
before we're done
august 9 2022
winter Sep 2019
that’s it
I’ve felt it once
and the ending doesn’t surprise me anymore
I feel it now
as if I’d never left
and you’d never said goodnight
I’m alone for a day
and reduced to believing
in the remedies of being held
We are different
that’s what I’ll say
you’ll ask me “how?”
and for a moment, I’ll lose my answer
But they find their way back again
winter Mar 2019
our foreheads are battered with the symphony
corrupted by theory and gauze
your lips are sweet
but mine are sweeter
let me see you to sing consolidation
let me see you at all again
wellness cannot be spoken
though my expression heed no desire
to lure you into my hold
to cradle your head in my breast
dizzied and dazed
remember me there
find me in the warm night
such kindly temperament out of reach
reach for me when your bed becomes cold
when you yourself become cold
mustn't you fear me among the others
I long to lend you my hand
There are times when I can feel
come to me
speak to me
winter Apr 2019
Season melting into my arms
My sentimentality is not a product of my hope
which still prevails
though the weather ties me back
The cold of the backstage walls
brings me comfort
connects me to a memory
subito!
It becomes glorious to remember.
a present wind is pleasant
so long as it doesn't sting
But to feel the waves of matter
slipping through the creases
soothing the cracks of old troubles
It is everything to breathe
the spring of 2018 brings back some terrible, terrible memories. now that time is passing, i hope this peaceful feeling is a result of time, and not a re-experience of that old false hope.
winter Sep 2019
the good morning
is sitting at the back of my school's library
so the sun hits my face
just before I leave for class
just before I finish my coffee
I listen to my mother's spotify
and choose not to finish my math homework
winter Sep 2022
midnight
everybody wants to follow me home

who is gonna pick me out from the crowd,
and mutilate me
winter Feb 2023
strength
in the morning
every hour minute moment
when despair takes its hold and every
word thought sight reminds you
of everything you've lost but
despair is useless and
despair won't get you through
winter Jun 2023
there's a head in every window
peaking through the blinds
and there's a man on every street
to follow you at night

there's a chip in your computer
and a dagger in your heart
and they're working side by side
to drag the guts into your art

every day I change the street I walk
every day I change town

but there are always tinted windows

and they are always slowing down
winter Sep 2019
& after six years
put the same people
in the same room
and nothing will have changed
you reenter
and all of that growth is gone
for a moment, all progression
dissipated
by their presence alone
winter Mar 2023
I am not a sweetheart,
my soul is dark and muddy
I'm tired of people seeing
a me that isn't me
I'm tired of making friends
who for years might love the show
never understanding,
nor do they wish to know.
winter Jun 2023
Did I not ask for pain?


I'm thinking of you, little girl,
who stared too long at the squirrels in the street
or at the birds in the backyards, missing their heads
poor animal, sweet thing
What a brutal way to go

I heard you wanted to know
what it felt like
I heard you wanted to see for yourself
winter Dec 2021
symphony child
it's time
to arise from the basement
from your little couch cusion
wear the dress that you keep
folded in the bathroom
along with the rest of your clothes

put on your pretty symphony face
and sit in the front seat
with bravery
stare straight ahead
when you're on the road
and look them in the eye
only when you're told to

melody baby it's okay
to take your eyes off the pain of the stage
because when the lights go down
it is only you in the back of the house
and it is only you
who can hear the voices
of the folk
in that great, rolling, symphony ceiling
only you can see their eyes
peaking from the catwalk
it is okay,
to let the sounds lift you up there with them
lift you up to death
a beautiful calm
that begins to
distort
the concert is starting to feel quite long

treble youth
for now this will be your life
you shouldn't have to
be aware of how temporary it all will be
you shouldn't have to
look forward to it

but while it lasts
feel free to explore
even if that may only be your own mind
grow where you're planted
even when the *** is quite small
as a seat at the back of the symphony
as the cushion seat
of a couch in the basement

symphony child
music functions
through movement
as time will move
through you
winter Mar 2019
the moon is gone
and the crescent my fantasy
for so long, never seeing you
the time has finally come
for me to have forgotten your face
when night is risen and moon is full
i imagine you there
your soft, beautiful face
gorgeously round and pointed and soft
the arch of your brow
and your wailing eyes
digging so deep into my own
that in my reflection yours are buried
formed from little craters and debris
historically indifferent
they must be your eyes
i was crying the last time i looked at you
you staring at me, indifferent, remorseful
i am crying now, looking at the moon
it must be you up there
eight months and twelve days
june twenty-eighth
july nineteenth
i hate that i can't remember your face
and i mourn you still
just by looking up
to that same moon
i fear the day that i might see you again
that i may be reminded of your gentleness
that i may hear the nectar of your voice
i can never stop myself from you
can never hold back from admiring you
in my entirety, you, the moon
my only beacon, beloved anchor
but the moon is gone
and the crescent only my fantasy
winter Aug 2022
the grass can hear us
the trees can see us
the earth can feel us
they whisper in secret
gossip and cry
debating our future
consuming the hurt
yet choosing to be kind
winter Aug 2022
i hate the flesh
the way it splits
squishes splats its
seafoamy decay
over the bulbous form
bone and meat of the
body

i hate the yellow rot
and purple blood
and oyster tongue and
other organs spilling out
its desperate escape
from that desolate
hole of a tomb
august 9th, 2022
winter Mar 2020
The glow reaches out to me
For the first time
Wraps its hands around my chest
And firmly grasps the heart
It stares me dead
Swells and dries my eyes
And leaves a frightened yowl
Right into my center
Right into my core
I am riveted
And suddenly aware of the hollow
I can grasp it myself now
I am grasping the glow
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