The world and everyone won.
I’ve lost everything and everyone.
I lost myself in the process and now I am left to rebuild from the nothingness once again.
Turns out doing the right thing leaves you empty with no one and nothing.
Yet I find the beauty in being alone.
No pressure or no one to tell you that you’re not good enough.

My soul searches you,

I fly further and further --


and I do not land.

i can
conjurer up words
mix delicate
intricacies of verse
with poetic license
i might defecate
upon scripted genius
   of the past
a scourge
on the eloquence
   of perfected prose
a pariah
with semantics
that hang in the air
like a frequented noose
the rhetoric of
this rhetoric
both dumbfounds
   and delights
the agenda of the learned;
to supress
the syntax spat forth
the phlegm and catarrh
of a gut
of derivatives

i could compose
a verse
for young lovers
   to cherish
if i could
only stop
the rot;
genius
   nonsense
      or ignorance
i couldn't
tell you
which

i want to bash ur skull in and rip out parts of ur brain to to understand your thoughts.