To rove and roam across the depths of excursions bearing ingenuity
I pose here now, alert amongst the globetrotters
Where? What judgement do I have to say,
I’m just a pillager, plundering the strange earth of which I came,
Uncertain of my own actions and subsequent consequences,
Though I am certain my little milieu of great proportions
Can thrive to inconceivable measures without myself
And the reason? I’m certain there’s one,
For as much as I endeavor,
Peradventure I am weakened,
As hard and with as much force
I use, beyond quantifiable measures
Ask me now! Why I can’t say,
Though I’ll attempt, and brace dismay
I’ll strive to the utmost,
Bear the encumbrance,
Endure the gauntlet,
Even so—I can never form meaning with my words.

Come here, I miss you, radiant one
with heart the size of Zeus's raging storm.
There is a song circling your irises,
traversing immense emotion,
filled from indigo depths of an ocean's mirror
and poured over the searing rim of the strongest volcano.
Such power fuels painful wars,
but you won each battle with bleeding fists.
And I cannot wash your hands
because mine are covered too.

Come here, I miss you, magnificent one,
fierce and clever: protector of all.
Now, you have fire in your sight,
lava on your tongue, and embers in your belly.
But the brazen flames I love, those livening your whole,
you tell me they flare from your fingerprints,
and then you are burnt.
And I cannot douse the embers
because I choke myself on the ashes.

Come here, I miss you, beautiful one,
such pain among the four of you.
With soft eyes sweet and wide as fawns,
such youthful play within your soul.
Creativity and intellect course through your veins,
yet you carry the weight of three
almost strung up by the neck.
And I cannot coax them down
because I am one of them.

My friends have always been there for me.
They support me through so much.
But I? I feel completely helpless
whenever I try to be the shoulder
instead of the tears.

You're so welcoming
You're here for anyone, with open arms
You love all of the people around you.
Yet, when you open your arms in your
Short sleeve knit
I see scars
Scars all up and down your arms
Some old
Some new
And it makes me see
Someone so beautiful
That makes everyone else
Feel so beautiful
And loved
Can feel so worthless and unloved
And I see now.
I see why you are the way you are,
           You're so welcoming
                 To everyone
  Because no one ever was to you.

There's a comfort in being a doubter,
To be swayed by passionate conviction
As well as logical cognition,
If nothing can be proven then how can that be confirmed?
I am a doubter
I live in dim-lit twilight of faith unknown,
I doubt the doubter and all of faith
Is doubt not too a faith to move nations?
I am a doubter, an undecided,
Hopeful, hateful, shameful, trustless
Devoid, lacking any certainty
Don't doubt me! I'm not weak, not mean,
Not judgmental or hypocritical,
Just so uncertain and conflicted—
How can anyone believe
In anything, at all?

When I fingered the thin skin on my left, vein-bulging limb
Where the forearm adheres to the costly little hand
I realized in all my intense ardor for pain
That there in my penitence, self-pity, self-loathe
I am a narcissist.
Laden with self-obsessed sorrow
There is a selfishness in being a dreary,
To feel for oneself,
When others care too much
An aggregation of sympathizing sobs and tears
Too much for an egoist
Who would rather wallow alone
In the orange-tinted hue of twilight turned nightfall
A ray of the luster in all subtle shades,
Can I summon the force to recall
Why I hate myself
Is it not that all despise me for a purpose?
And those who are inept at reasonable loathe
Are marooned in deep shame
That they had degraded themselves for what?
For a felon? Such as myself?
Deep in such sorrow,
Deep in my self-loathe
I have encountered the truth of all fruitless self-regard
I am a narcissist, egoist, one who self-loathes
Who slashes and severs and cannot speak love

If there is any value in anything,
Am I a fraud?
I should not exist.
There is nought I care bear to do
In order for this world to remain
Free from guilt, shame,
Morbid perdition,
A torrid display of all that is malicious—
And yet you claim you value me.
Beyond reason, purpose,
There is no explanation why—
Are you a poignant widower yearning
For blind love?
Don’t choose hope through those who need you.
Learn you value yourself.
Still you choose to say you cannot yield,
Cannot cease, can never change
I’d believe in you, I’d trust,
But above all, I want you to give in!
Can’t you apprehend?

What do we value?
If not ourselves?
What do we care for? Beyond all else?
I’ve never prior, cared to wonder of
The veil to mask our intrinsic intentions.

It's the query of these days—
Why would I cherish them?
Discerningly hear, comprehend their words
Ask of their lives, speak of their day
Wonder at all why they can't seem to do them same
Why would I cherish them?
They've never cherished me.
Not once queried why I must
Sit alone, in dry, loud silence
So humbling to deafening
I cannot attempt to understand.
But I've never pondered them
Never approached them,
Never my intention
Desperation alive in aforementioned silence...
Perhaps that's the answer, the end, the solution.
Another, one more question—
Do I want to cherish them?
Or for them to cherish me?