Rainy autumn weather.
The rain drops sound cold
As they strike against the window.
Cat silhouettes seem to herald
An approaching Halloween.

my leg bounces
like my pulse on the trigger
with my thoughts going slower
and stakes bigger

I was drunk—
and I made you my muse.

Now that I’m sober—
I wanna marry my poems.

“This is my last time”,
I said 4 times ago
As I paint my brittle fingernails
Red with blood

The city lights are so beautiful.
Each light has a purpose: to guide someone to where they need to go.
Be it a hall light, guiding a young child to a bathroom, or a lamp post in the street, lighting someone's way home.
Each light i can see from my 11th floor window is on for some reason.
It has a purpose.
I take comfort in the city, knowing that someone has taken the time to light my walk home, that would have otherwise been dark.
I think it is why most fear the unknown.
We are accustomed to having our paths lit each step of the way.
I long to explore all the dark places we haven't bothered to provide with light.
I imagine those to be the most beautiful places.