The room buzzes around me as I sit and stare into the wall stretching into eternity before me.
The flesh mannequins grin they're crooked and deceitful smiles, and speak in encoded tongues.
I read the lines between them and their words,
Slicing context from the arteries like my box cutter draining my poisoned blood.
The voice whispers for me to leave them to their own repetitive stories
And to isolate myself from the prying eyes of God.
As I close my blind eye, and rip open my third one,
The brain fires begin.

There's something about you that's addictive
I can't put my finger on it

Is it the way you look at me with such wholehearted assurance and acceptance that I can't help but smile?
Maybe it's how those beautiful eyes twinkle at the thought of anything remotely fun
Or how your baby hairs dance in the wind while the sun kisses your cheek each time you step out of the house

You have a scent I can't seem to shake
And a voice that's got my heart and veins pounding in catharsis

The first time I met you I thought you were cool
And each time we've met since then
You dropped rose petal after rose petal onto my mind
And lit a candle in my soul

Each time our late night talks melt into soft moans or electric laughter
I feel you steal another piece of my heart

Every time we converse together helps build the unbreakable desire
To slap a massive ring onto your hand and whisk you away

Every magic moment, blending into hours of peace and happiness
Punctuated by the softest parts of your soul.

I told you once I'd paint master pieces in your honor and put them in museums
I'd name the paintings "Not As Good As The Original"
Or
"Beautiful Piece but No Where Near As Accurate As The Real Muse"
Or
"Painting #5,607 of My Favorite Woman"
The part I didn't mention was the Museum's name

See, I'm gonna build it myself
And I'll name it:
The Magpie Museum of the Angel Trapped on Earth
The walls will be littered with portrait after portrait of you
The floor, lined with endless carvings of poetry and compliments meant for you and you alone
And this?
This poem will be #3
Of 10,000.

Last year at this time, I was snuggled into your neck
Our breathing was in sync and you held me tighter than anyone I've ever met my entire life
It felt like our souls were in a dance among the stars we gazed at just minutes before.

I was also in four pieces
Clean cut, defined and precise
My psyche was a honed machine that operated at four different levels
Constantly working to see what information I could siphon
In order to better understand the world

Then the parts turned
Famished eyes seeing one another for the first time
And realizing how much information was there,
How much information was untouched

And they encircled one another
Ripping each other to shreds and slowly chewing and savoring
Each bite a bitter slap to the face with raw information from the universe itself
Painful
Heartbreaking
Addicting

Now I'm better (probably)
I don't know what parts ate what
Or what that will do to them
I don't even know how many are left

I just know what I experience daily
Each blessed moment of clarity
Each time my own synapses spits in my face
Each moment that I wonder who or what I am
Knowing the end will never come
Unless I ask it to nicely.

If only life hadn't taught me my ******* manners.

I never realized that sobriety would become a personal hell.
I played with fire.
Hell, I laughed at the first spark
And as the days grew shorter I began to wonder
How many sparks till I get a flame?

The fire started and no help came
I lost my hands and eyes to collapsing beams
Yet no help came
I thought, maybe it would be better to let the flames take this home
But the ash and dry wall coated my lungs and nostrils
I screamed for freedom
For release
For a hero of some kind
For water, even a drop to bless my dried and cracked skin
For some ******* air
And as the fire claimed my home
And my body
And eventually, my mind
I grew silent.

The fire is gone now.
I can't feel the sun kiss my skin over the scars that encompass my roasted corpse.
I can't sing. I can't speak.
My screams are a whisper in the wind of a storm already passed.  

And as I recover my footing and senses
I am forced to remember what my own personal hell was
And face it

Someone once said I was a fanatic of escapism
That I would never find peace if I never stopped moving
But let me ask you;
Can you name a creature that doesn't move?

Trees grow
They shake with the wind, and shower all below them with leaves
Further cementing their carved throne as the elders of our planet

Mushrooms, dogs, lizards, fish
I could name creatures and organisms that 'move' for days
I could give you a fact about each of them
And teach you why darwinism has blessed that specific species with its touch

They said I'm an escapist
Someone who runs from trouble and problems
Or maybe from life itself
Or maybe in circles
I say
When you're a pine tree in a green house there is no such thing as escapism

There's drive to live and acceptance of demise
The only two forms of black and white that's even remotely close to the chessboard you're picturing
My drive to live isn't escapism

So when my branches break your windows,
When my canopy and height topples this ceramic plated greenhouse,
Dont you dare say it was an escape attempt.
I didn't escape. I didn't even leave.
I did as a pine tree does
And I Grew.

I love you.
No, loved.
It gets confusing, separating my old thoughts from my current ones
Especially when on the same conceptual topic such as love.
Or you.

I love you the same way one loves an abusive parent they've long separated from
I love you with a flinch at your touch
And an obedient and calm agreement at your word

I love you like I love the sharp side of the blade you carved me with
A painful, dulling sensation of my flesh exposing to air
And all the comforts of home ingrained gracefully into the handle you hold


I love you because of the things you've shown me I can do
I love you because I thought you left me with these cursed gifts of knowledge
But last night you returned
And reminded me of how things were

You entered my room, and set my nest ablaze to give yourself warmth
You screamed my name in the same tone and voice you had dozens of times before
You forced yourself into existence by forcing me to acknowledge you and your presence
Last night you returned and reminded me of how things were

Last night you reminded me
Waving your blade in the flames as though giving it a sip of love for good luck.

Last night you returned
You blessed my cursed name by speaking it into the smoking sacrifice you stole from me

Last night you returned
And I finally remembered the bitter taste of fear and love rolled into one
Just as one remembers the instinctual response to a near death experience
Or the lullaby of a sobbing mother frantically trying to get her young to sleep

Last night you returned
And I cried with tears of breathless silence because I did not want to stir your presence away nor keep it close
I cried with frozen tears of fear and terror
As you whispered your sweet nothings and filled my mind with hollow promises
Of a fantasy world
All the while dragging the blade across the top of my spine

I love you.
No, I did love you.
And now you've returned
And I fear our next meeting as one fears the loving fist of their abusive lover
And I as your claimed soul will have no choice
But to listen to you carefully
As you sing your song of my defiance as a mocking song aimed at my pride
And slice my skin to give yourself another jacket to protect from the cold

My uncle committed suicide with a scarf and a hotel room door two years ago.
I've been living right next door to a loaded gun within a toddlers grasp for almost as long.
Does it make him a better man than I if I choose to meet my end
Looking down a one way tunnel,
Or should I try to meet him half way,
And use a belt and my bedroom door?
I'm only asking so I don't **** this up
Better men than I have flowed down this path, and if there's one thing I am
It's not a Better Man.

Sometimes I hear things when I drive
Most of the time it's car horns
Sometimes it's the screeching of tires on asphalt screaming to be stopped
I try not to focus on it because you shouldn't be distracted while driving
So I keep my hands on the controls
And my eyes on the road

Sometimes in the mirrors I see your face
Glowing faintly like some kind of ethereal movie image
Sent by a projector with a bad bulb
Sometimes I wonder if I drive alone or if you're there
But that train of thought sends my misled hands faulty directions
And I drift out of my desired lane

Sometimes I wonder if the voice coming from the speakers is yours
And if its the same voice haunting the air vents
Whispering lies into my vulnerable mind
I try to ignore them but it gets to me after a while
And eventually my glass house of bottled substance abuse and sustenance comes crashing
Leaving my hands to crawl on a broken field of glass and reanimated pains that slept dormantly at peace

So I staple my hands to the wheel
And glue my eyes to the road
And try my hardest not to cry and swerve into the first car or railing or tree I see
And pretend that face in my mirror behind me is just the trick of the light

I still think about the tree you hit
I never told you that we visited it once after you
But only once

I ran my fingers across the twisted and scarred bark
I studied the missing chunk of wood and felt nothing but an ache in the pit of my soul

I'd visit it again sometime if it weren't for the same reason I haven't visited you:
I don't know where to go.

Roads and highways and backwoods remind me of the cemetery you rest in
Each tree, each house, each street light and sign
All of it looks the same
Much like the gravestones creating the labyrinth you stay in

But if one day I do stumble across your grave
Or that tree
I'll bring you a grape soda and a blunt
And a Mickey Mouse for your collection
And we can talk again
Just me and you

Hopefully I get a response

I have poor vision.
Whether that's an ironic twist of life, a coincidence, or a sick joke being played through the universe's morbid sense of humor,
It's a fact.
And in more senses than one.
I've been short sighted since the age of 12
(On my left anyway)

You know how they say other senses sharpen when one takes damage?
It happened.
Not to my hearing, or my good eye
But in more subtle ways.

My sense of deduction blew through the roof.
My instincts when it came to social interaction became so sharp I could tell you what would happen to someone before it happened with 80% accuracy
I could tell people from smart apes almost instantly
I figured out how to use will to forge and shape my future

Then I met someone
Someone that was so amazing
So awe inspiring and raw and real
That I decided I wanted
No
Needed them in my future
And the game started

We started slow
Friends, smoke buddies, bar buddies
We shared secrets, problems, and great memories
And over time I started to fall for you

One day
While hanging out and smoking
And sharing stories and opinions
There was something in the air
I couldn't take my eyes off of you
Every word you spoke sounded like a songbirds call,
Beckoning my soul gently
Grabbing my attention with every word

That's when I realized I was falling for you.

Every time I saw you after that
Pushed me further down the land slide of surpessed romance
I hid my feelings under the heart on my sleeve

Then came the day we had our first kiss
I needed to know if there was anything there.
A spark
A bad feeling
Warmth
Anything.
So I asked if I could kiss you
A simple request to you
But a test of chemistry to me
And what I found was something so welcoming
So warm, and electric and natural
I needed it in my life for as long as I could have it
Then you told me you liked me
And I thought,
"Wow, I lucked out"

Now we're building a future together
Using an unbreakable bond and determination
And watching each other's backs

And now
We've reached a new peak
And as the sun rises and kisses your cheeks every morning,
And the sky reflects your brilliance and beauty with cloudscapes and sunsets
I'll take each day to appreciate how much you've improved my life
I'll take each snuggle session
Each passionate kiss
Each embrace and secret
Each warm night
And I'll cherish these memories until the day we can reminisce
And look back at the road we've traveled
And smile
And cry
And accept every blessing and tragedy
Every mistake and accomplishment
Every dodged bullet and heated discussion

Today I started working on my vows to you.
I'm sure they'll change a lot over the time it takes to present them
But so will we.
And I've never been more excited about change
Than I am when I think about the changes that will come to us,
With you by my side.

Together, we'll look back at our sweet past
Through rose tinted, candy speckled glasses.

Stirring the city streets is always relaxing.
Whether I'm on foot, or in a car, I move swift and watch.
I watch the spiders pull their strings and tighten and intertwine their intricate webs
Less so focused on any prey,
And more focused on not letting their webs plummet into a tangled mess below.
I walk and watch.
I drive and watch.
The street names become background noise
As I walk with scissors
Looking for the right spiders
To cut free.

Pages of burning emotion flutter through the wind
Flipping from one end of my journey and milestones to the other
Letting the sun kiss each page as it transfers

The ink is dry
But the blood, and tears I've graced these pages with are very much still running through the words planted in the same field.

My pen screamed and etched images of my future
As my brain burned with a passion magnified by a deep sickness

And as the gunshots of thought blare
My pen rams the pages

And then silence
The scribbling scratches of the quill quiets down
And the accelerated breathing turns soft and shakey

The Prophet ends his journal entry
With a slice of the thumb
A bit of blood smeared on his art to ensure his life stays with it
And a night of deep sobbing stalking closely behind.

Sleeping through pain is a tumor
Eventually
All emotions become scary
And you'd rather sleep
And starve your soul
And become a martyr for your fears
Than feel anything other than temporary happiness

I am the Apple Tree.
Please, feast

When I let my mind wander it often dreams timelessly
Creating vast wastelands of impossible concepts and places that never existed
A junkyard of delirium and broken hearts

Lately it's been dreaming of the realistic and dark
Fantasies and a gravitation towards the fate of the spiteful

It always starts with tears, and screaming
I punch at the walls setting fire to my domain with each strike
Ripping chunks of aortic valves from my sleeves with the fury of a rabid wolf

Then once all has settled and I sit in my piles of ash
I sob
It isn't like the first time
There aren't any screams
Or the thudding of my bloodied and stained hands against drywall and wood
Or the thundering echoes of each heartbeat ripping apart my eardrums

There is only a soft
Drifting and muffled sobbing containing more pain than the mass graves of my ancestors

Then it stops

A grunt
A crash
A choke
A gasping and struggling sound escapes my throat
Despite the belt wrapped around it trying to pin each cry and plea to my neck

I float
Like an angel watching silently over the world encased in my tomb
And as the sun rises and sets
and rises and sets
and rises and sets
and rises and sets

Only the moon will know what atrocity I have committed
In defiling my soul and beliefs
And turn my back on hope once and for all

I believe happiness lives in Blood.
Whether our own, or that of others is the question.
I remember when I first realized it;
You were the reason I was unhappy.
The shattered vase recognizing the hammer that destroyed it.
The broken heart spotting the surgeon who haphazardly carved it from its home.

I remember realizing that my happiness was stolen and by none other than you,
And that if I wanted to be happy once again, I had to free my happiness from your blood.
But what's the fun in ******, when it's so easily accomplished?

I decided to destroy you.
To make you regret being born just as I had;
To make you taste the saltiness of your own sweat and tears
As you sat in a pile of ash you once called your beloved and cherished sanctuary
Was my idea of "salvation".

I dismantled you, and your family's life.
I disrupted the dismal peace you all so boringly accepted as your lives
And by stirring the waters, I brought out the worst in all.
The pestilence grew within your home
And quickly leaped from your family
Onto mine.

Suddenly, the plan backfired.
You steered into the chasm of life that I spent years mapping,
And all I had to do was whisper in your ear and sew doubt into your skull.

And yet,
This backfire;
This single moment of social dissonance,
Reshaped the earth we both stood on.
The dark corners I once knew became twisted and corrupt copies.
My mind became a new place to explore and learn about.

I just wish the last image to bless my genesis
Had been of you
Swinging gracefully, and peacefully
From your neck.

I get angry at you a lot these days.
Not for the drugs
Or for the intermittent appearances like a commercial during my favorite show
Or for the arguments you couldn't bother to hide from me
Or for the distaste you held for my father so ******* proudly that anyone on our block could tell you about how many near fist fights my mom had to pull you out of
Or for the times I'd find you locked away in your room crying so ******* hard you couldn't speak or look at me
Or for the times you got lost in space while I was talking to you about important things

No. Not for these beautiful moments of you in your rawest forms.
I get angry when I remember how much I ******* loved you
I get angry when I remember your favorite foods, and sounds-
I can't even ******* look at Mickey Mouse anymore without almost breaking down

I get angry because I remember how easily you could calm me down and help me regain control
Because out of EVERYONE in that household, you loved me enough to figure me out.

I get angry because I took the time to repay that respect just to have it spit in my eye
I get angry on the days I think about my childhood and remember how you smiled but not the laugh.
I get angry when I remember you telling me not to be a cry baby, each and every time those floodgates break
In fact I heard it three times when writing this

I get angry because now, as an adult
I can see myself following your foot steps
And I've never been more proud
And I can see that I've outlived you; surpassed the place you left your last mark
And I am hurt that I no longer have your portrait like footprints to guide me
I get angry that you made yourself my older sister when you saw I had no one
And that I loved you so much your death still brings me to shakes 15 years later.

I get angry because you died
And more importantly
No one said you were allowed to do that before me
And I get angry because I know that wasn't your choice
So when I picture the last time I saw that car
And imagine what it was like with you still in it
I bleed myself in your honor.

So I'll run
I'll run so ******* fast and far it'll make you think of when we used to foot race
Or when we played tag together and I was always it because you were too quick

I'll scream in rage and in fear
I'll scratch my arms and slice my fingers until my skin matches my carved out soul
I'll rip the Earth apart into nothing but my love for you
Until the day I can end this good mourning
By hearing you sing your bird like chime
"Good Morning, Get up, Let's go"

I was once accused of being the devil under a darkened moon on a foggy night

Now, I've met the devil and let me tell you
The devil once beat me with a curtain rack over my back until I bled
Only to pretend it was in the sport of the game

I've met the devil
In fact, the devil used to show my mom love from the end of a fist and in the sunrise after a long night of crying
Would convince her it was in the name of his love for her

I've befriended the devil
The Devil once taught me how to pick locks and marks minding their own business
And to prey on these people, nay,
Opportunities
Like my life depended on it

I've lived with the devil
The devil kept once locked me in a house-shaped-prison before flinging me into the world unprepared, and dazed
Only to blame me for not watching the outside close enough from my foggy window

I've loved the devil
And eagerly, I gutted myself in the devil's name each time she asked me to see my still beating heart
Only to be confused as to why she hated the mess that followed my orders

I've sacrificed to the devil
I've taken my own heart and soul, and impaled them on a blade made of pure jaded spite, only to lay them with all the other hearts I've stolen and pierced
Unknowingly, yet undoubtedly maliciously.

I've kissed the devil
And in that deal I sealed my fate a lifetime of servitude to a soul I helped created
And created a bond with the devil that was forbidden for good reason

I've lied to the devil
Only to have my mistakes return and slash me across the face like the blade that is the sun's beams shedding light on a long night of forgetting problems
No matter how justifiable he claimed I was

I've seen the devil
He watched me from the bottom of an orange tube only to switch his view finder to something he could swim in

And once more, even now,
As it dances on the end of my blunts

I've met the devil
And I've met the devil many times throughout my lifetime
I've met the devil enough times to identify it by smell, or hearing
Despite it coming with a new assortment of blends, a new chirp every time it appears, and a new look complete with me words
****, at one point, it was me

But I know this Now:
I am not (currently),
Nor will I be ever again,
The Devil.

The ice of winter grew thick
Encasing the world in a slippery custom made glass case
And stopping everything in its tracks
I sent my heart and soul North
Hoping to mitigate the damage to self
Until the ice thawed

But it never did
As time marched forward it became clear by the thickening of the shining hardened plastic suffocating the earth and plants

There would be no thaw
And now, encased in the ice myself
I can only wonder what my wandering and uplifted spirit can do without me

Forced to be an observer from a distance
I sob over my own hollowed out remnants of the future and present
I weep for each laugh and giggle missed by my soul
I shed a tear for every day I miss and every milestone I won't see

If this was the right decision, I desperately wish I could be a selfish version of myself

If this was the right decision why does my bleeding heart scream at me in pure agony

If this was the right decision why does it hurt this much to be right

I don't know how to admit to myself that I miss you.
Or that I still love you.
Or that I hate you.

Every time you come to mind, I find something to distract myself
Something to sober my mind
Keep my hands busy
And my thoughts from running rampant

I've reclaimed my life now
And things are going to be better, yes

But I can't help but think about it
Replay it in my brain like an old VHS tape
Study it all, moment for moment

So I'll stay in my shell
And I'll feel my thoughts and feelings in private
And I'll wear my smile and tell myself
And everyone else
That it doesn't hurt
That I'm fine
That I know it's for the best
That I'm doing better without her

But the minute I close that bedroom door
And I steal a couple of minutes for myself
It all begins to crumble.

I think about when it's gonna end a lot these days
Only most of the time I don't know what "it" is
Life
These thoughts
These feelings
This cursed heart on my open and welcoming sleeve has to stop it's drum beat eventually, right?
And once it does I'll be safe. I'll be free.
And I know carving this Great source of power from my body will leave me weak

But I'd rather be weak than be vulnerable

I used to write to inspire.
To let other knows what I was feeling by painting scenic views with my words
So that they'd know they weren't alone
So they'd know that no matter what happens,
Someone else is alongside them
Even if it was some stranger way out in the big wide open world

But now I feel alone

Which doesn't make any sense because I have a family that I hand-picked,
And am almost never actually alone

And also doesn't make sense because I still write
Which, one would assume means I've encountered a solution to this issue

But the writing doesn't help
And the cigarettes stopped working
So I'm stuck

And the thing is, I keep reading and rereading my old works
And none of it actually helps

Even when I distance myself from the piece and read it from a new perspective I end up getting the question I can't answer:
Why the **** does it matter if we experience the same or even similar pains?
Who am I, to think my experiences are worthy or even meaningful enough to share and spread like a virus?

So why do I write?

I'm just some guy on the internet
A shitposter trying to squeeze some semblance of a serious tone from the internet
A mind screaming to have some form of deep, meaningful conversation with anyone
When in reality that doesn't matter to anyone
Because life has squeezed sentiment until it became a pebble being kicked on the park sidewalk

So why pick up a pen to write to a world that no longer remembers how to read?

It makes about as much sense as

Well anything really

Maybe that vague understanding of nothing making sense ever is my reason

Maybe I don't really need a reason to express myself

But *******, would it be nice

Live to die, or die to live
Those are the options presented to me by my reflection

**** my beliefs, my pride and upbringing
In exchange for a life I'd be better off with
Or
Continue on,
Pressing forward with the grace and majesty
Of a flaming steam roller heading for an explosive dumpster

I've always believed forward was the way to go
That when all else fails, anger would fuel me to surpass my goal
And I'd continue forward
Destroying all I cherished or opposed me
As such I've become conditioned to stay alert for debris
Never resting
Only forward

But now that isn't a necessity
Suddenly the fuel that's driven me all this way has been questioned on its efficiency

Suddenly, as if I am approaching a cliff,
Forward may not be the course of action anymore

I can stop
I can rest and breathe and cry
I can be angry and grieve
And let the bottles of fuel drop into the sea below
Building my path and next bridge to burn
That may not even be flammable

I worry if I stop moving
That that's it.
Where I fall I sleep forever more,
Never to stir to continue the path.

So do I **** myself to live as a free man,
Connectionless to this place I've become familiar with
Or live to die by my own self destructive nature.

The hand hovers on the knife
I can take it with me to fend off those who may threaten, hurt or offend
Including myself;
Or use it to cut myself from my frame
And live freely

Give in to Win
Or Resist the current
My fate lies in my decision
Of turning the tides.

I sat in the van with no idea of what to do
Which wasn't unusual
But what was unusual, was the aching feeling of eyes peeling away my skin from the distance
The etched-out image of a human dancing in my peripherals only made things worse
I tried thinking thoughts of pleasant days
But the night sky seeped into my thoughts by crawling through my eyes and infecting my mind

The sun cracked and tore away pieces of its shell
To illuminate the land with its soft kindness
Rather than beat it down with harsh and unforgiving, life bringing daylight.
I felt at peace but precariously
Like I should rest, but the absolute second I close my eyes
Snarling jaws would appear around my throat
The silent and beautifully peaceful night would shriek with sounds of gunshots
And by morning I'd be left a pile of bones and stripped flesh

Those thoughts began to fester
Inside I felt cornered and unable to give my mind peace
Outside, prey to predator waiting on the chopping block to be torn apart
Like a present under the tree

So as I sat, first in silence, then to the gentle heartbeat of music
I debated guitar
Too jittery
I pondered calls
People despise late night nonsense

The air grew thick with tension, doubt, paranoia, disgust, acceptance and love as I realized the only way to pass this time
The only way I could end my daily date with the moon and stars
And return to the solitude of my peace
Was to sing to the universe itself
Until my song ended
Whether or not that was my choice.
Now I typically want that choice more than anything else
But something was wrong this time

So I sat and spoke to the moon
Or maybe to the stars
Or to God
Or to Myself
Or to no one at all
And yanno what?

Whoever,
Whatever
I spoke to in this time where I was vulnerable only to myself
Told me something I'd never forget:

Live for.

Im pretty good at magic.
Not a sentence I ever thought I'd write because I'm bad at party tricks
And could never identify which one was your card

Lately though, I've been studying with someone
Someone so much better at magic than
I am, I find shivers of joy at every touch

I've seen this woman make ritualistic sacrifice in the name of a better future

Ive seen the clouds bend at the knee, and recoil so that she may see the moon

I've seen smoke clouds dance around her tear stained cheeks as if the bubbling passion underneath were burning off the tears as they fell.

Ive fallen into a deep and unbreakable spell by listening to her bird like songs

Ive seen her fight demons turned cruel by the tides that change at her very wish and baptize the hearts of men in pools of love in its purest, most volatile form

I've seen her tears freeze with sadness as if she were a beautiful portrait frozen in time

Ive seen her curse Gods only for them to bow their heads in shame and apologize like sheepish guilty children.

And sometimes when shes asleep at night,
I can see the angels that come nightly to inspect their fallen sister and ensure her safe travels through the world

I can only hope that I am just as skilled in this craft of passion and evolution
To be able to one day call her truly mine

I killed myself pretty recently.
It wasn't like all the other times.
This time was more embracing.
More comfortable.
More needed.
I managed to shed my old mold before it could cause me any further pain.

It feels like the first breathe of hot desert air after being buried beneath the sand.

It feels like the cool, salty rush of sea water hitting your eyes after free falling for an unknown amount of time.

It feels like the shaky release of heavy chains from my flesh stripped ankles and wrists

It hurts
It hurts so ******* bad
The freedom
The release
The memories
The new possibilities
And the old, dead ones
The fear
The anger

And as I stand in the road, waiting for these emotions to pass
And realize
I am the endless fork in the endless road and the sole nomad walking it

My house walks.
She's pretty unique in that sense
She breathes with a passion very few get to witness unless she wish it
And carries herself in the stance of a headstrong and charismatic woman

My Home speaks
With a demanding voice that snatches the attention of the soul
She speaks words riddled with experience and wisdom
And laughs like the first song you've ever heard.

My peace of mind travels
It rests on the shoulders of a beautiful vessel created to match the soul and mind of my home,
And unfortunately

When she's roaming, my house no longer has my home.

Thank the Gods you didn't come back from the dead to haunt me again today

I may have actually believed you
I may have actually taken your word again
I may have taken you back and done more damage to myself than there already is

I hope you stay dead
But when a ghost is in love with you, well
Sometimes they just come back for you
Singing love songs and whispering sweet nothings on the wind

It's terrifying, really

A bloodline sharpened and honed by years of misfortune,
Until it comes to a fine and refined point like the tip of my jawbone blade.
I am the prophet.
The future seer from a family destined to muddy the waters.
I stare into the eyes of the abyss until its gaze falls into my trap
And my third eye opens
Revealing what will be in visions from days yet to come.

Dreams shifting visions of reality being bent directly into my cerebellum.
It's nice.
The day's are Sunny, and the air is hazy with good energy.
The sun vanishes and night encapsulates my psyche.
I hear splinters of conversations.
Fragments of discourse hurled into my dreamscape from their proper position in time.

This has happened before.
Same stories.
No. It has not happened before this moment, not in reality.
But being given this gift comes with the curse of the unknown;
Knowing what is to come
But never having a due date.

I love myself.
I love myself so much I hold myself some nights
And whisper "I'm sorry I let all these people hurt you"

I love myself so much it sometimes turns bad.
I get obsessed, envious of the attention I give to others.

Some days I want to **** myself.
I'm starting to think that's an act of self love, too.
Because,
And let's be honest

This world is cruel.
It's cruel enough that,
One could justify, possibly,
The kindest, most compassionate and loving act you could do for something you love
Is to remove it from the Tragedy that is the world.

And if I really love myself,
Why would I want to show myself more of this?

I must not love myself as much as I thought,
Because I'm still ******* here

Maybe, I just love myself much, much more than I believed,
And want to give me the chance to adapt, thrive, and over power this harsh, cruel world,
One tender action and freed soul at a time.

In this garden,
This beautiful creation I've blessed with my wisdom and experience,
I see in dimensions no one else can.
My third eye gleams in the sunlight, glowing and glistening like a perfectly cut jade.

In the distance, I see my goal.
It breeches the soil and reaches for the sun's warm embrace,
Escaping the mortal coil without ever leaving its vessel.

I approach.
Through the travel, the soil beneath me turns to salt and cracks.
The bees turn to wisps of a time once forgotten,
The butterflies, ghosts of a forgotten era.
The sun and Moon become a single entity forever fused in a dance older than time itself.
The sky turns dark and bleeds attempting to warn me of the horrors protecting my ambitions.
My claim to my destiny becomes shaken.

I power forward, blinded only in the physical world.
And as I approach the apple hanging gracefully from the tree
The snake will whisper its temptations,
And God will scream and tear the heavens asunder, seeking my cursed flesh and blood.
And as I pluck my ambitions and wisdom, digesting it and the truth whole,
The corners of my stone eyes will crack,
My third eye will screech,
And I will watch as both God and the serpent battle over my intentions.

I am The Prophet.
My destiny is written by me and me alone,
And all those who take claim to my soul will be cut down by my power.

I am The Prophet.
Where my gifts and talents, ambitions and goals, and curses and vices originate
Is unknown
But these are answers that do not matter.

I will tame the serpentine prince.
I will take claim to the power your God once stole from me.
I will refuse the sun its moment to set, plunging myself in eternal sunset.
I will embrace the moon as my lover,
And I will not allow you, nor anyone, nor anything power.

I am The Prophet.
I will scan the horizon with my peripheral vision
And blind myself with the sun's direct effects
To strengthen the sight of my soul.

Does it make me a weak man
To depend on medications to keep me sane
Or does it make me a champion
For knowing it

I've taken something sacred
Something I probably shouldn't have

Just when the dust settled they came for me
Swarming my room like angry bees

They couldn't find my stolen treasure
So they settled for the next best thing:
My Memory

And now here I remain
Unable to remember where I put my treasures
Or what they were
Or why they were precious in the first place

Here I remain
A wretched creature unable to remember value and worth
Or why these concepts were ever important

Here I remain
A pillar of the temple fallen
Untouched by time
Yet removed from its load bearing status

But alas
The eternally burning flame
I've endured and enshrouded myself in
Keeps my cold heart warm

And as I'm burned to a crisp and reborn by the flames of Olympus
I can't help but to feel an echo of emotion
Or maybe recall the phantom of a memory
Of a time when I was hungry for this very warmth
A time when this eternal fire was all I craved
Why? I can't recall.

Maybe there was once a reason for my treasonous action
Maybe it was even a good one
But none of that matters anymore
I have it now
And no matter how many times this very flame robs me of my memory and experiences
I can at least say that I'll always remember the day that



I've taken something sacred.

It's been a long time since I wrote to you.
I wanna say that I was wrong
And that you've always known the truth
But I rediscovered stone and shattered my magic mirror
Made the glass into some lenses and now I see clearer
I think about you a lot these days
Especially while pushing it high down the freeway
The memories of self loathing blasting in my head, like a reply

I wanna say I'm sorry for how I treated you
But that would mean that I was wrong to believe in you
I'd apologize for getting you started on the ****
But let's face it, you found peace hidden in the leaves

I'd apologize for trying to fix you myself
But that would mean admitting I gained nothing from my efforts

In all reality I cannot do anything to prove to you my undying love for you
Especially after all these years of calling you
The King of Nothing Nobodies
And all these nights of beating and berating you relentlessly
And of slicing your fingertips so that it burned every time you touched anything
Whether you cared for it or not.

I will prove to you I love you.
That all these years of hatred and loathing were simply a deep love
A love that wanted you to be better
And was angry that it just wasn't that ******* easy

But now you are
And I know for a fact you are
And I'm ready to build a shrine from your ****** sacrifices
In your honor

Do you tell me you love me with sincerity
Or is it out of guilt
Or is it out of pity

The scariest thing about life is never knowing who's saying those three cursed words
And who genuinely means it

Mom called.
She said something happened at your friends.
She said, the result of whatever cataclysm took place there, left you asleep.
You still haven't woken up.

Not fully.

You've moved your hand a couple of times, and your eyes but
They say you're still fighting your way out of it.

I know your mom died.
You're probably dreaming dreams of being with her now, dancing in your living room
On a warm summer night, without a care in the world.
I need you to know that it's okay to be tired.
I'm tired, too.
My eyes all yearn to shut and stay shut till my soul can rest.
Sleep as much as you'd like,
And rest.
But please, do wake up soon.
I don't want you to become enchanted by the world you're staying in
And end up becoming a permanent resident of the Dreamland destined for Lost souls.

I used to welcome sleep
Sleeping felt like swimming in the void the universe was created in
Like embracing a home you've never known you had
Or a pet you once owned as a child
Sleep was comforting and welcoming as a mother is to her wounded child stumbling home from the war
A broken man

Now you've infected my dreams in an attempt to amputate my mind
You carve the walls and scrape the  ceilings of my skull
And raise the floors to create walls of an endless maze
You hunger for my brain so you may use it as a labyrinth to play in
I won't let you have it

I'd rather die than let you have it
The stakes are too high
The cost of failure too much
And losing is no longer an option

I only wonder
If it ever was
Or if I simply didn't understand the value
Of myself
In the eye
Of me

Sunday mornings we would make breakfast together.
I always burned the bacon a little bit too much for your taste
Or overcooked the eggs
And sometimes we wouldn't eat at all
We'd stay in bed and sleep until one of us had to go

I'd wake up to small strips of light firing through your brightened blinds
And hear you singing somewhere near
And every morning you would sing
And it would wake me from my frozen trance with a warm smile
And sometimes even lull me back to sleep to much more soothing dreams

But one day you stopped singing
And your songs became more and more rare
Beaten into a gentle hum that could only be heard from the same room

And then you stopped humming
You'd get this quiet sadness in your eyes and while I'd try to help
Or alleviate it in anyway I could
It would linger like the ghost of a parent

I'll miss the morning tunes the most I think
But maybe I was right about one thing in all of this
Maybe things are better this way

But darling, do I miss the ******* music from your soul
And I hope one day
You find your song again
And someone
Or some situation
That makes you sing every morning
To greet the sun as warmly as it will you.

I never get tired of being a passenger with you
Which is amazing because being a passenger in a car makes me writhe with discomfort
But you sing

Every time I hear you sing absent mindedly in the car
Or at work
Or when you're eating something yummy and humming alone
It reminds me of what true, real music sounds like.

My own songbird
Blown towards me by winds I cannot comprehend
To feed me something I'd gone without
Without realizing how hungry and malnourished I'd actually become

The shining, singing sun
Whispering to the sunflowers
Mimics her voice and lovely warmth across the planet
In her honor.

Phone call, a voice trying not to crack
One star watching the city limits, but the sky is empty and black.
I don't know what you were doing, I can only assume
You didn't know about enemy plans taking place under the moon.

A pop.

Too close to home to sit through in comfort,
But not far enough that you can get to say 'I wonder'
Bright young soul, big bro always had a plan and story
So maybe you can teach me how to kick-flip from Purgatory


We used to kick it at the church; riding up and down the street
Felt like learning the Universe
Them big hills was a big deal
Until life said retreat,
And went on to open up the seal.

We grew apart as years passed
But Ill never forgot the sting of your passing
It's in the air, like tear gas

You had a lot of friends, and left a lot of broken hearts
And way too many broken pieces left apart to call it art.

And we never got to hit a park together
But I live by "If you bust your ***, you'll get better"
The first words you spoke the first time I jumped ship,
And the first words you spoke when I first busted my lip.

I know we weren't the closest, but you've known me since seven.
Two months will make a year,
I hope you're grinding on halos for eternity
If there's a heaven.

Once my skin tasted warm daylight
I vowed to never let the sun set on me again.
So, barefoot, and frantically shrieking in a panic
I chased behind

I caught up
And past. To enjoy the warm day

But the sun cooked my skin, charring it to black flakes that drifted aimlessly in the breeze
Leaving my bleached and wrinkled flesh showing for the birds hovering overhead
Revealing my humanity to be food for the birds circling above me like a halo
The birds
The birds
The ******* BIRDS.

I fell under the suns spell
I chased it until my bones cracked and shattered
And my skin peeled back from my soul.
I chased it until my parched throat could no longer remember what my voice sounded like
I chased it until my ***** feet bled, and my legs muscles exploded from sheer over use

And its curse melted into my skull
I was fed to those who knew better than to chase such an impossible object
I was fed to those winged rats just as many before me have
I was fed to the sun's own messengers

I survive by snatching breadcrumbs of happiness wherever I can find them
I love giving these breadcrumbs to those around me
Being able to make people happy
Somewhat more fulfilled
Maybe even make them smile
But now the strangest things have happened
A cascading fall of kingdoms releasing prisoners long cast into a dreamland of strange clouds, and nightmarish shadows
The cry for help heard around the world followed by the roaring outrage of its noble hearted
A plague of misinformation

For some reason the breadcrumbs don't fall from wherever they do, anymore
For some reason, I've become thinner
Hungrier
Now every breadcrumb feels like a feast
Every minor win my greatest achievement to date
Every loss, a tragedy and product of my own actions and choices

Last night was the first time I found a pile of breadcrumbs
Just waiting, with brightly lit lights gleaming off the toasty surface

And last night was the first time
That after gorging myself with breadcrumbs until I could no longer eat from discomfort
And investing many of them towards my freedom
I was sliced open
And forced to give them back

And now, I'm bleeding.
But the funniest part about it is
The hunger pangs have returned
And as my sliced belly growls
And I swim in the pool I've collected
All I can think about
Is another ******* Breadcrumb.

I decided to have fun.
That it was going to be a good night
No matter what the cost was
I stitched this vague and improbable idea into a battle flag
And charged into the tar pit riddled with energy of every variety

In doing so
I barged out of my mind
I charged the locked door located in front of my ear
And pryed the lock off with my bare hands

I didnt at first
At first I ran in circles
I ran into walls
I punched indestructible windows and mirrors until my knuckles bleed bone

But there's always new tactics being formed in life
New power and possibilities to explore and devour
And now that I've found the door
I can capture the world
And drag it back to my Temple
Kicking and screaming.

I was once a Comet
Racing through space in a blind fury
Towards some unknown goal that was so much bigger than I
That I stay trapped in an orbit so super massive
Everywhere I go and everything I see becomes the first time I've seen it

I was once a Comet.
My light burned so brightly everyone within hundreds of thousands of miles could see
And they watched as I accelerated with joy and pride in their hearts
Making wishes and hoping the universe grants it

I was once a Comet
And because I was unable to see myself
I believed them when they said I was on fire
That I was some ever burning torch
Destined to give my light for millennia.

I was once a Comet
And as I traveled, my mass decreased
Bits of stone and ice were lost as my stardust began to strike stagnant meteors and debris
I began to slow
My light became dim

I no longer receive the wishes of the people.
Their cries of pride and joy are a ghost to me now
A shadow of a phantom

I no longer feel the warmth from my travels
And as my light fades
And I blend into the eternal, ever stretching black sheet that is our universe
I will always remember
I was once a Comet.

You once said you couldnt imagine a future without me
That you were made for me in a completely new way

I agreed
After all I can't think of anyone I'd rather roll alongside with

Then things got a little scary
Old problems of my past threatened me and tried making you a target
Only for you to put out those fires with ease, like your touch was made of the ocean.

Ive never felt like this towards anyone in my past
I doubt I could feel these emotions for anyone else

You've seen me at a valley, and helped me find my peaks
No matter what needed to be said you'd always reach

I can see how real it is every time you look at me,
Retouching on my soul like bread and warm butter
Repacking in my goal like a **** on a new ******

I can love you loud or quiet, it's entirely up to you
But the moral of this story is
Breazy, I'm in love with you.

I was a giant.
One day while running, I spotted you atop a tree.
You were waving. Smiling. Barely able hold the branches from my ground shaking footsteps.

I don't know why but I picked you up, gently. You sat upon my shoulders and told me of your dreams of one day building your own home.

I showed you the place I called home, yet it was too big for you.
So we went back out.
I gathered you stones of love to act as a foundation.
I plucked mighty oaks of trust from the ground to provide lumber for your walls and security.
I cleared a spot for you in my home, and allowed you to construct yours.

And all was well.
One day, you came to me in the night.
You whispered into my ear that my footsteps were too loud for you
That my movements disturbed your peace and shattered your dreams as you slept.
I tried to crawl.
Tried to slide across the ground on my belly.
For a while I just stopped moving.

Without my massive footsteps to crush the forests, and stunt the mountains
The forests began to become an overgrown thick brush
The mountains toppled from their own height and destroyed anything around them

But I sat. Quietly. And watched.

And then it became my breathing.
My heartbeat.
The pounding sound of blood rushing through my veins.
My laughter.

My very existence was too loud. Too disturbing to your peace.
So when your walls started to rot
And you slept through,
I wasn't sure what the correct course of action was.

When the wind began eroding away the foundation, and collapsing the home around you
I was sure you'd awaken

But you didn't

Your home is gone now
Replaced by a pile of rotted wood that was your security and trust from the outside
And stones so heavy, only I can clean them up now.

And I will. Slowly

And once the pile of rubble is gone, and your corpse is located and buried

I will swear the vow that under any circumstance,

I will not let anyone tell me my existence is too powerful for them.

I am a Giant. And I will not falter from running any longer.

For eight long years I stood
Unable to see beyond base color, and movement
I'd look at the white fuzz ball in the night sky
And wonder what it looked like in detail

It's happened
I got my assigned looking glass and went out
And as the night air kissed my skin
And the sweet dew on the breeze blessed my lungs
I saw you

A clear cut light bulb
Surrounded by a flooding white light
With hints of blues and greens tussling the cloudscape

You wore a crown better than any I've ever had the blessing to see
And gracefully and silently you hovered
Clearing the way for your astronomical war path of silent and peaceful soft light.

I had a dream about you yesterday.
It was of one of the nights we came back from the bar
Tipsy and making stupid inside jokes about the Spanish word for Oranges

The only reason I know it was a dream
Instead of me reminiscing in my sleep
Was because when you lit your pipe,
A piece of opal carved from the heart of the earth
My room melted away and turned to the night sky
With us sitting on a patch or grass yet to exist staring at it
You light some greens
And a the sky pops and lights up in response.

The purple lights turn to red and green streaked tenderly across a Christmas tree
In a home I've never seen, yet never felt so familiar with

The windows are frosted with snow and ice
Mountains and forest views buried under a peaceful sheet
You're opening presents.
A gasp fills the air and you start crying tears of joy
Another lighter flick

It's spring
I'm holding your ring speckled hand in my right
And the steering wheel to a car I've never seen in my left
Blasting songs with brief quiet intermissions to tell each other stories
Small streaks of grey dart across my short hair and you can't, or won't stop staring at me.
It's nice.

Another flash from the lighter
We're old and at a park
And still act like we're still trying to win the other over
Laughing and talking about the old bar
And roasting randoms from the bench

A final flick
I'm in my room again
You're staring at me and I just realized I've been looking at you
With a distant glazed look in my eyes for at least a minute now
"Are you okay?"
I don't know how to tell you I'm prepared to spend the rest of my life with you
Or tell you what just flashed across my mind with a flood of emotions I never thought I'd get

Either from being way too high, or for lack of better words, I reply
"Yeah. Just uh.... Zooted."