will know everything
of wonder
when their owner dies -

they will not wait, they will
escape out the window left open
and live on
for them

will know nothing
of excitement and wonder
when their owners die

but still they will wait
for them to come home, at the foot of the door
patiently

ok alright but have you considered -
i dont talk, because
a. i dont want to
b. i dont want to
c. i dont want to
d. refer to c
e. refer to d

**** me in
a pit
filled to the brim with
pret-
ty things i've never
lit
myself on fire for
you, to
feel a bit warmer ****
this poem is
****

*******,
*NICE

you can't hurt me
you can't hurt me
you can't hurt me

an internal and eternal
sliver of happiness

he asked her what she was
thinking about
she said she'd like to know as well

******
me

12 am - persuasive calm. windows open. drifting
1 am - wide eyes. black cat. questions
2 am - nothingness. windows close. emotion
3 am - despair. nostalgia. phone booth
4 am - rain. drooping eyes. monochrome
5 am - agony. revolting. ears split open
6 am - neighbors. pacing. loss
7 am onwards - coffee. scrambled. seashells on the seashore

i hope your 3 am calls
end in
sweet sweet sweet
                                  "I love you"s

heroes are found
in the









people

a place
that genuinely admires all of you and
hides your existence
for a little while
from the clock ticking and ticking and *ticking

the knowledge of someone's existence, as a whole -
the almost distressing awareness of someone in the corner of your eye.
a magnet, a helluva strong one,
drawing you in

to notice every detail and find all the steps
all the quirks
used to reel people in;
standing at the edge of a void - admiring it -
but not getting ****** in

there's something terrifying and lovely
in finding a song that speaks to you

the stars will always be out for you,
but if you stay in too ***** a place -
don't blame everyone else when you can't see them anymore

and he felt loss and misery and hatred and disgust all at once,
he ran all his life searching for it again

if you died tomorrow,
in a car crash
in a train accident
from food poisoning
from the snakes I sent last night, under my breath, nightmares fading in and out
you ancestors would smile, they really would, believe me -
and the world would be a lovely place to live in

when your skin burns and peels and rots under the soil
then, will you feel regret?

time will heal nothing.
time will only teach you how to hide things properly -

open your eyes to see
an endless road of
misery

I need
nobody.
nobody, that is,
other than myself.

loving the idea of her
is alright, actually

a majority of marriages may end
in death of love instead of life,
but that doesn't say anything about the immortality of the feeling therein