I dreamt before it happened,

It happened before I dreamt.

It ended before it could begin;

Began there at the end.

The past yearned for the future,

The future for the past;

But nothing comes from everything,

And everything never lasts.

Little waves of haze, sleep, dazed, could crash for days, i'll stay crazy, mind still hazy, been busy lately, but for you innately‏

let's break free, break sweats, get it? get me? get it, go. we grow, in between the cracks, make pacts, relax, get easy, life's breezey, teasing, pleasing, appeasing, ah‏

(i think i'm rapping)‏

Wanderer, I don't want to be the one that captures you, even sweetly, don't wanna be that one that names you Wanderer, just wanna be a thing to take into arms, slow, slow.‏

I could sing, I could do twirls off my little balcony, or I could pull you underwater, Wanderer, we could bleed into each other's stratosphere, whisper in my ear‏

Can you call? I've been dragging *** today, cuz I want you bad, so bad. Can you call? This bed is far too comfortable to be alone.‏

Can you? Wanderer. Stretching out my arms in my sunny room, got room for two. Can you? Call sometime and make my smile run to me, please run to me please run to me please to me i'll run between‏

Let me sing a song I'm writing, let me blend these notes I'm finding, wanderer. Wander here.‏

Little dazey still been hazy, got three hours to make me a lady, so **** complicated to make my face stay pretty, but I can break rulez. Shady, baby, I'm slim shady, got the hat and heels to make me a lady, pretty baby, I can't be crazy, need the paper, i'll go ****** later‏

Can you call? I've never met someone who meant so much, in such small things that tickle tendrils into heart, pulling me apart. Can you call? I've been meaning to say I'm still deciding on my fate, these next few years may be painful but they'll lead to you. I'll run to you‏

Stop describing your terrible ****** encounters
I know you've had other women since I ended things with you
You're acting like you don't have magazines stashed under your bed
What, when I was with you your hand was your secret lover
And now it's not enough?

I'm so cold. I just want the affirmation of another soul's proximity
Is anyone out there?
The spinning feeling increases its tempo
The awful silence crescendos
Bring me back, bring me back
I miss the Saturday night I spent on mushrooms.
Everything was alright in the world
Anonymous carefree the world was ablaze
I convinced myself I was a fire spirit and you were a deer
I'm not addicted: I only tried it once.


All I want is a cigarette and to go back to sleep.
The world will turn without me
Your heart will be cold either way
Why and I vying for your attentions?
I tell myself I'm too antisocial
Until I have asked every single last one of my faceless friends to come get me
I guess it's alright to take some time for yourself
Is this a manifestation of grief or depression?
Is anyone out there?
I prefer the company of strangers to those who I've already become disillusioned with
Will anyone feel my gentle tugging and lend me a hand?
Just a coffee
Just a smoke
Just a walk through the warming days
Spring cleaning
I've successfully ignored your texts for long enough
I think I'll sleep with you
Not because I think that's all I'm good for.

Is it really "being used" if you're aware of it?
Am I not using you as well?
I can't decide if this will turn out well.



To you: Help.

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...

its been
moments since I thought about you
in any capacity
minutes since
I remembered some portion of our story
hours since I felt anger
days since I tried to pick up my phone
weeks since I last contacted you
months since we last touched.

its been

months since you crushed me
weeks since I put on the brave face
days since I longed for you
hours since I spoke of you
minutes of starring into a blank screen
silently pleading
moments before all this is behind me again.

It’ll be

Moments of weakness
when I think about “us”
Minutes of silent cursing
while you run through my mind
Hours of rationalizing
before I let it go
Days of depression

I know

Weeks of emotions crammed into a few minutes
Months of self doubt and insanity

Soon it’ll be

years

But I’ll always have


the



tears.