i've found myself awake to see the sun rise for 3 days in a row.
i want to believe it’s allowed me to remember there is still
pureness around me but it only exhausts me.
purity is something i never fall asleep alongside.
i keep eating strawberries before 7AM.
there is an empty carton of eggs on the counter
that i didn’t cook for myself.
someone told me i look very beautiful when i wake up
but i think that depends on the amount of heavy dreaming i fell into.
when the sun rises tomorrow morning and i catch it, as i most likely will,
i have a message for it. i want to tell the sunrise that first impressions are everything.
if it mattered in the first moment, it matters now.
my sheets are twisted in the way you could never mess them up.
you can tell me the same thing over and over but it’ll still sound new.
everything still tastes like you. you are still the pretty boy.
you are still the sunset i nap right through every evening.

Losing all hope was freedom
You think it's a diesease but
It gave me the confidence to breath
I sit alone in the malignant kingdom

Trying to hit bottom
I try to prolong this condition
Sturring in a boiling *** of contrition
Can't you see my new perpetual phantom?

I'm broken, nobody wants me
Lost in the senseless pages
My internal strom continues to rage
Sitting for days, hungry, in the oldest dragon tree

I'll wait for you, your beauty, so ageless
I'll wait for you atop our favourite tree
We can hold hands and for a second feel free
You make me feel priceless, when I know I'm worthless

I'm A Shamed (not ashamed)

after noon, awake now
for eight hours with
another twelve awaiting.
a sweating summer for
advancement of 'talented
young author'; reading,
writings, and ennui towards
those not wanting to be
found in sight. Lucien
stabbed his twice in the
chest, then weighted and
drowned the body feigning
dead. insanity claimed,
a brilliant success to freedom
after emaciating and claiming
another's mortal soul. claimed
was blood-stained Lucky Strikes,
and Lucien smoked the last one.

I loved someone,
Once before.

And that's why I'm so terrified to try again.

I met a girl,
Who wrote a poem for me,
Took a picture,
And put them together.

It took some time for me to say it
But I loved her,
Nonetheless,
Though the picture was in waiting, lonely.

Today, it sits beside my nightstand,
For my to wake up to,
Her face shining in morning light,
To remind me why I wake up every day.

Her face, the place
I want to say good morning to.
I want to say good afternoon to.
I want to say good night to, too.

I'm just a young man
With big dreams
And a heart that keeps growing
In size for his young lady,
Who has her own problems-
Dreams notwithstanding.