When did I detach myself from the current of reality,
eternally fused to the nothingness that awaits us?
To become a slave of dreams and machinations.

When did I become another heartbeat,
longing for fantasies of love,
only to find the anguish that comes from human desire.
Knowing that we are powerless to our fascinations.

How many days go by, as we long to be remembered?
For art, for name, for doing, for living
only to reach the same end of obscurity.

They call me a deconstructionist, a detester of life.
But are we not worthlessly tied to this current of life?
We are born with no concepts, no meaning, an echo of what is to come.
& that same echo escapes us in the end.

I look in the mirror,
10 years passed in a breeze,
older, fatter, a wrinkle begins to form.
Youth begins to evade me,
Yet I do not feel sad nor glad,
I am simply living, okay, content with myself.
Is it not odd? Is it not strange? That I no longer care.

The saddest thing in this world,
   is constantly being used by him,
       and continuing to play the game, you are going to l̶o̶s̶e̶.

Like the trains,
  that always run late.
      I was late to love,
      I was late to happiness,
      But I was early to the desolate sea of loneliness that awaits us,
        as the train gets lost in the foggy gray hills of death,
             we all reach. . . you were early to that stop.
                   I am still late waiting for the station, for us to meet.

You slept again with that unknown man,
I sniff your clothes, freezing my cheeks sending a nervous shudder,
Radiant exuberance rushes through every cell, as my mind enters a ****** state of pleasure and Benzedrine.
Fire ignites from within every hole, I cry out for my thoughts are their own, and they are spinning on the floor.

I look to the sky and say "forgive me father" as I enter this state of perfect purgatory.
Breaking down crying naked I shriek with delight.
Burning a cigarette hole in my arm I let the supernatural ecstasy encompass me, as Imagine his fiery eyes.

I want to pleasure him, I want him to rip my limbs.
Sit on my ***, and worship his soul.
Feel the feeling as he lifts your legs to his waist,
as he chokes you out of consciousness, forcing you to imagine my reaction.
The feeling of having him inside you as he fills you with pain, pleasure and joy.

For you think you cheated,
and got away,
but in reality I was always really gay.

Imagine the sky turns red,
Imagine the palm trees in flames,
Imagine the desert turns to ice,
Imagine the night never comes,
Imagine stars do not dazzle and grow bright,
Imagine, the world comes to and end,
Imagine, our hands intertwined,
   as we stare into one another's eyes,
         as we clutch one another, would it matter?
                  as we take our last breath, would I be enough?
It would not matter, for it would never come to be.
For, this is just a dream, of my imagination.

I am a crazy dreamer,
Waited for a love which never came.
As I watched the kids cruising becoming part of the future.
Smiling in love, the thing I always craved.
Everyday my heart grew darker and sore.
I knew I was not born to love,
Never to know truelove.

So, call me crazy,
Tell me I don’t try and I am lazy!
I see no need to dress up or to make myself decadent and tasty.
For dreams are an illusion and I choose not to be hasty.
So, I am a crazy dreamer, no one was born to love me.
I was born to be as fluid as the sea, call me a *****, call me a ***.
For each stone your throw only made me grow!

I never knew tears, only pleasure.
The human touch and its burning flame which ignited fear.
I knew beauty and life, but I never knew love.
I was always happy, until I knew no one was born to love me.
Crazy dreamer, happy even no love in life, I am the crazy dreamer.

You give yourself to him,
        he takes and he takes,
             until your reflection is a stranger,
                                      a cheap, overly used, stranger.
  -He will n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ love you.

At sixteen,
  I knew the beauty of life,
      poor, hungry, but full of affection and tenderness,
I never suffered nor cried; until I met you.
you taught me love,
     pain, sadness, tears,
         when you left
             I learned of longing. . .
take me back to sixteen, b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶I̶ ̶f̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶. . .

Close your eyes
   count to three,
it'll go away,
  it'll be okay,
four, five, six
   open your eyes
      you'll be fine
ten, eleven, twelve
when he died, I lost my sight
   I lost my purpose,
     twenty, thirty, fifty
I will never be okay. . .
       & that's okay. .  .

Are your proud of who I am?
Or are you rolling in your grave ashamed.
You were the pillar that held up my walls,
and answered all of my calls.

I never hurt so bad, so when did I ever lower my guard?
My dreams, my aspirations, my goals, my life revolved around you.
Always with a smile, I was a fool that never grew,
because you were the pillar who took all life threw.  

How much abuse did you endure? It must have been stressful, I'm sure.
I'm sorry my lover, I could have done more, if only I knew.
Not a day goes by that I'd rather be asleep than awake, so that I won’t have to relive all my mistakes.

Eventually your walls toppled over, so did my heart.
With the blink of the eye, your ardent flame came to an end.
I’m sorry my lover, if only I knew, I would beg god for more time.

So please tell me that you are not ashamed,
Send me a sign, that I have grown and became great!
That I am no longer the same and have changed!

Tell me my lover, for I am starting to think Ive grown but insane.
Am I everything you wished for?
Or your greatest mistake?

Forgive me lover,
For deep down I know I was the greatest mistake.

The world is cold with you,
for the flowers that bloomed,
  filled with the hum of the bee,
turn , dreary and cool.

The city is cool with you,
church bells no longer ring,
   our future is bleak,
as the sky comes down to drown the trees.
life is obscure, dark, dim.

Life is cold with you,
  I lose my spark,
     my creativity, my being,
          I lose me.
What little beauty I defended,
is cut , hidden, gone.

The sun escapes my orbit,
   my skies grow darker,
      I toss and I turn,
          pleading for a light; long gone.
begging to return to me; me before you.

There is no shame in saying " I love you"
   Only heartbroken mornings,
              when there is no reply. . .

Bruises turn to scars,
but memories never fade,
my soul weeps in silence for this love,
why do I stay?

This pain I have carried.
   This pain I proclaim,
        This song I sing,
             This song of love,
                  I can not erase
                    when will
                       I finally
                           be
                             f̶r̶e̶e̶?̶

He does not know how to run,
  run after; love, dreams, aspirations
     when you left, you broke him
         I want to fix him. . . but I can't.
             That's the worst feeling in this earth.

I think I killed a man today,
For he would not look at me in anyway,
Smiled over him as his soul left his eyes, licked his blood and savored his rejection.
Self-indulgence was my justification, the achievement of vanity was my motive.

Breath left his glorified ruby red lips, hazel green eyes pleaded to the dark abyss which was my soul.
How beautiful a moment I had created, was he proud of such a love filled death?
I loved him, loved him I did.
But he mocked my emotions, laughed at my devotion.
He trampled my passion, lust and infatuation.
Hopefully he burns in damnation.

I killed the man today, and I'll stand over his grave.
I'll watch and laugh at him all day.
My soul won't weep or shed a tear.

Where is the color?
    Red , blues & orange hues.
Where is the sound?
    Singing Birds, overplayed love songs on repeat.
Where is the smell?
    Cheap coffee blends on your breath.
Where is the touch?
    Rough, gentle, callused hands.

Drifting in an endless tide of nothingness,
    Dark, silent, odorless nights.
         "I love you" loses its luster,
            "Forever" loses it shine
                 Bliss becomes sorrow,
                     Tears become strength,
                        Ashes becomes flame,
                            Red knees of prayer become sore feet,
                               I look in the mirror and find peace. . .
I learned to love again,
      not for you,
            but for me,
                 I learned to say "I love you" to the man in the mirror,
                    Accept, learn and stand once more.
                        Its easy being with you, but hard being alone.
                            Thank you my old beloved.

If I love him?
Why do I wan't to remove one more tie,
to the many that bind us,
Do I not already feel love, so why do I crave it?

In the mirror I see,
An old vase, full of white chrysanthemums,
Under a sea of emotions,
I imagine the vase in vast hues of blue, red, purple, green.
It changes and morphs into my creation,
but the chrysanthemums persist,
for a vase is a vase, change is change,
but what is inside stays the s̶a̶m̶e̶.

Is it love?
  No; just imagination.
magical creations; of a longing heart
and ardent passion, burning of desire; wanting.
Only to find disappointment;
Heaven on earth ceased to exist,
    for death tore the veil which shrouded my heart.
which shrouded my eyes; that made me blind.
Now that the spell is lifted, I fall to the ground,
and curse this ʟᴏɴɢɪɴɢ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ.

Little Brown Red Bird,
Grow your wings soar far away,
In to solitude.

I'm sorry for saying I love you. . .
Can we go back to yesterday,
when we were best friends?

Our love is made of unspoken silence,
Closed lips that age and ripen,
inside our broken heart.
Our heart which weeps the soul,
agonizing, arduous, still. .  
why, do we keep it in,
only to sustain this anguish,
hundreds of words , to three, to silence.

Touch that sends shivers down my spine,
Breath as ardent as the brightest flame,
Tears that stream my very soul.
Black lined exuberant eyes shrouded in mystery,
Peer through bone, blood and flesh.
My heart cannot take your pleasure and pain
Every tick and every tock is an endless tunnel of unfathomable love.

Fingers bleed, as teeth grit.
Skin tears, and two hands ***** my neck.
Bearded angels scream YASSSSS
The music pumps, the crowd goes wild.
Yet no one notices my insignificance.
I gasp for air; I want to scream but sound is lost.
Life leaves, a body lays against a decrepit bathroom wall.

You killed me, while bearded angels danced the night away.
If only I could live once more,
and experience your fervency once more.

You proclaim to be better!
proclaim to have overcame,
proclaim to have conquered,
but it will spit you out, chew you, stomp on you,
all over again.
my mind is a sick mind, of which there is no escape.

"why do you dress up?"
my heart dropped, in that moment I knew. . .
I was not a lover, your muse or your dream.
I was your o̶b̶j̶e̶c̶t̶

The innumerable ties, that you gave me.
The childish tricks, that you deceived me.
I'd rather be dead, then forgotten.

I stopped into a church
I prayed for him to go away
Everyday the sky is gray . . .
I cried , he looked at me & I died. . .
      "Please go away"
             "leave me alone"
                   "stop staring"
unanswered pleas down on my knees
                        I 𝕡𝕣𝕒𝕪
               but he never goes away
                         -𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

The peach tree died today,
dried from inside,
there is no butterflies, no bees, no birds that feast.
lie to me & tell me its okay.
Invent a story or two,
tell me the tap broke, tell me you fell asleep.
Just don't speak the unspoken truth, that you were busy with them.
As I was away dreaming of our future white picket fence. . .

The breaking of day,
   your sweaty hand,
        and warm embrace,
           no ***, no words, no sound,
                 just two souls cojoined for a moment in time.  
                              its l̶o̶v̶e̶

It is not the pain itself,
It is the memory of having seen the bottom of the abyss,
The pain of each cataclysm, the pain of living torture.

It is the pain of these sleepless nights,
of this vile memory multiplied.
It is the pain of remembering your scent, It is the pain of this heart which beats through my poor crying soul.
The pain of reliving my abyss , full of nothingness, regret, empty , cold, desolate without you.

These memories bring me down,
     to the void, which I now climb alone.

If you'd like I'll stay until our death,
From the bees and rays of honey that ooze from the sun,
Under the cold dead branches cradled under winter stars.
I will always be with you, my love,
so love me a little more. . .

Baby let me help redesign you,
you are a work of delipidated art,
Let me restore your shine,
      your luster, your being,
                  you. .  
                      for that is perfection. . .
                             or close to it. . .

Princes don't exist in my narrative,
no magic wand, no mysterious old woman.
no happily ever after ending.
My narrative is no fairy tale,

My narrative is,
you looking into my eyes,
      you touching my skin,
           6 a.m. coffee, full of tired complaints,
playing house, yells , laughs, tears and screams.
You by my side, it is no fairy tale, it is just real life
and that is alright.

My face in stillness,
threads a shroud of silence.
My skin lightens, my blood thus fades,
it burns and cooks my soul alive.
As it weeps and wallows in the agony,
slow un-coming unforgiving death
slow slow slow death
what a joke of agony
life plays
as its bow plays the tune of my pain
forever linked, forever intwined with your death. .
a t̶u̶n̶e̶ that never ends . . .