Changed,
I sense it upon your silence.
Crushing me, I fade.

She began by biting the bark off a tree

What am I organically? Not simply, biologically.
What do I like without any preconceived notion or idea about something,
anything at all?

It's okay.
The more you envy the photos,
the more *******,
the more negativity,
the more stupidity you are fed;
Because you are sautéd in a lie.

It's pumpkin season.

I'm alone in a cold house; I fill it with candles to deceive my mind. The room smells like fresh baked cookies. Oh, how I wish my house was a bakery! I would ****** stranger's noses with my cinnamon cakes, feed the bellies of my neighbors, and recycle the crumbs to the mangy squirrels. But my oven is imaginary and the heater is broken.

There is much in my heart I seek,
I don't feel much like baking.

A sigh, transparent.
My body in chills, I crawl.

I chew on frozen pebbles;
Minding the dark,
I play with bitter fingertips imagined.

I am empty,
Miserable,
Loved.

I do not deserve to live.
I deserve nothing.

I am forever in this body until it dies.
Until my flesh has become dust,
And I am once again reunited with the stars.

Give up on me, poor fellow.
Your love is suited elsewhere.
Be happy and free without me.

I am suffering a sadness that weathers like a storm.
Only chills fill my release.
Smog, melt my mind,
Blast me away into the void of space.
Let me twinkle like a star,
Burning blue cool.

She just wants to be loved,
To feel loved and accepted.
So she pushes away the people she loves most,
Tests their strengths and abilities;
"Whoever remains in the end", she thinks,
"Deserves my love whole".

Foolish girl,
You seek a bloodbath,
A war for others to fight,
To devour your shadows of insecurity.
No one will be there at the finish line,
No one can outrun your fear.
You will **** them all.

In your doubt I am left, alone,
Alongside your battle of self identity.
I used to hurl flames at you,
Yet now you are the one to set me aflame.
Burning away our trust,
You devour it whole,
Leaving only putty ashes in my mouth.

Oh, how I dream of becoming a medicine woman!
To live in the mountains under the precious stars,
Greeting people as I roam small towns,
Reading their  futures by mystical moonlight.
Whispering to trees and projecting unto the day what I want to get done.

What's holding me back?
I haven't the slightest idea.

It's hobo time,
finding my fingerless gloves,
picking up his one black sock instead,
wondering what's going to happen.
I wish you didn't want her dead-
I know you care much more than you tell me.
Stupid, stereotypical hobo heart-have no place to go.

A car passes by.
Time to think about my past,
reminisce on the good and the bad,
the sickening tragedy.
I don't want to look behind me,
I can already envision her there,
you looking at her constantly,
wanting to be beside her.
While I'm out here with my hobo heart,
& I can't ask the question.
My fingers are cold.

Will my eyes deceive me if I take a glance,
Will I see the spark I saw between you two in the past?
Tell me, sock, why let the spark happen?
But sock doesn't listen: you can't control human nature, might as well find a different occupation.

Truth be told, I don't want to look.
I don't trust you.
I know when your heart is lying.
(You still want her, this is how it happens.)

Walking home, I neglect I am alive. Accustomed to the mundane, the rich hues in the sky evade me. My insides weep to be awoken once more; dance in the depths and soar in the heights. My soul is asleep. My heart trembles where lovers once occupied; If only I could fixate on what is true.

But I am asleep.

I envy you.
You are unmoved by emotion,
Unfettered by your lack of clean underwear,
Unaffected by childish tears and sighs.
Able to numb rigidity through intoxicating brew;
Effortlessly escape to an alternate reality,
Filled with machine guns, a man jumping over turtles, portals of orange and blue.

I may speak, and you may not hear.
I may think, and you may not wonder.
I may seek, and you may not offer.
I envy your indifference,
Your reluctance to physical affirmation.

I'm sorry,
I frightened you.
I don't hate you.
I'm disappointed in myself for all the images I see,
That I cannot alter, or comfort, or change.
Because I'm afraid of rejection, expectations, and lack of feeling free.

My emptiness cannot comfort you entirely,
Yet I can show you of solaces beyond what one visually can see.

The vacancy that came,
When you left me astray,
Created a void:
Inadequate,
Unworthy,
Unwilling.

So delicately you came,
Untouched,
You left me.

Mmm..headlines,
Aah...trade lines,
Oooh...glitter.

Delicate things,
And pretty flowers.
Special days with apple pie,
Cinnamon cakes and tea.
Warm weather,
Or a bit of a chill.

Comforting childhood,
Come at will.

How I admire you,
You respectable women,
strong in beauty and dreams.
Fearlessly conquering settings and scenes.
Building strong walls,
Admiring fate.
You women who grab life by the reins,
And decide to keep going and changing the facts.
Making the history, eluding submission.
Day-by-day dedication to the vital health:
organs, *******, and hair.

Set your stage, you women of beauty!
Embrace yourself and love seamlessly .

Belittle me,
Reduce me of value,
Don't admire my work,
Don't put in the effort.
Forget me.

Show me the face behind your petty mask.
Tell me why you don't mirror the same.

Secret lover,
Hidden in my dreams,
Why can't he be you?

Seamlessly you show me love,
Caress my heart with poetic brow,
Teasing my mind,
Endless philosophical pursuit.

And he doesn't see my pain as you do.
And he can't sooth me like the idea of you.
Hold me endless,
Poetic. Strong. Effortlessly Broken.
Why can't he be you?

Is it wrong that my thoughts turn me on?

Your love was once warm.
Your mind used to fascinate me.
Your hairs were golden, bright, and soft.

Now your love makes me tired.
Your words pierce my heart,
As your mind rants in analytical jargon;
The "importance of logic".
I feel no warmth from you,
I see no sun in your straw hair.

I am empty in my efforts to fuel this cumbersome relationship.

I run,
a glimpse of you walking nearby,
I steady my pace.
Heart still palpitating,
I turn around.
A brisk walk,
Only to find a shadow of a boy.

Why won't you stay and sail with me?

Heaven on Earth is a bathroom after a three hour car ride home.

I smother myself to feel,
To attempt,
To drive away the sickening and staggering of my heart,
In effort to present a spotless love.
A love without effort,
A place without clutter.
A lesson without burden.

Is stubbornness a strength?

I have polluted you;
Is it true-am I poison?
You were once so you,
So curious and strong.

I have teared your muscles,
I have thrown too much,
Not in any effort to make you weak.
But because I make my burdens contagious.

It is in the right to leave,
To break away from my disaster.

Do you find it a curse to love me?
Feels like a burdened mule struggling up that hill again,
Layers of baggage, weight like stones.
I try to drop it; yearn for a better me.

Either leave me be or release this baggage,
Please.

You are empty and unwanted.
My quivers need fulfilling.
Millions of questions bustle in my mind,
And you unwilling to answer!
How do you stay?

It would be heaven to disappear,
From your smug silence,
And elude your vacant heart,
That twists my mind into nervous ticks.

You ugly, unwelcome thing,
Get out!

Such a desolate fate,
Driven by insolent oafs,
Though I am no better.

Incandescent fervor,
Merciless minds,
Constant remembrance of meticulous void.

Mindless opinions,
Pungent noise,
Ethereal existence,
General facade,
Contrived smile,
-hollowed.
Nothing good can grow here now.

Empty, ugly fate.
Burdened conscious.

One constantly thinks of lover,
In the breath she takes,
In the exhale that proceeds,
While mingling with flowers, grass, and toad.

Impishly, as though to whisper,
His name tickles her ear,
Begin the spasms to her inner sphere.

Yes! Unsullied Comrade!
Let her feed you sweet fruits,
Nestle your head near her *******.
Give her expert love with tickle of kiss!

She may be confined to impudent human,
But 'tis evidently true,
That she effortlessly does care,
And care especially for you.

I have learned not to justify life.
But am I okay? Why can't I simply be alone?
It's good to know somewhere, someone else feels this way.
Thank you humanity,
fluidly giving me comfort joys.

All these wonderful moments that surround,
haunt me and tease;
I am inspired by.

I want to walk away from you.
I want to be able to drop you,
and not be phased by your cries.

I cant stand this anxious lingering;
this cringing inside me that twists my nerves.
My heart clings to the brightness,
and I want to die.

Give up, move on.
I want to torture you.

If I am abuse,
I am irrational,
And I am insecure,
Then you are a *******,
You are insane,
And you are unstable
To want to stay.

In the stillness, we are reminded of pain, we are reminded of what was forgotten-mild, long ago. If we see the shimmer, we are embraced by the lingering bliss, and we can hear the laughter mementos, the pleasures that subsided. It is imperative that we forget our thrills.

I cannot remember how it feels,
to push hard pedals,
break fast from the training wheels.
To play in mud, chalk, and piles of sand,
attempting to conquer and rule imaginary land.

I forgot what the magic felt like,
between two people,
whom cherish one another with gentle caress,
subtle kiss on immaculate eye.

Where have I been the past 18 years?
What's wrong with feeling wrong this way?

Let's Breakup! I hate this nonsense anyway. You say I'm drama, well, you're arrogant and cruel-and I'd rather be dramatic than an *** like you.

There are depths I seek,
Situate young valleys upon mountain peaks;
I am conflicted in the here and now.

Balance is electric,
I'm dancing with the eels.
Only clouded by my vision,
So hard to tell.

The situation proved unsatisfactory.
The moment I opened my mouth,
I knew I couldn't give her what she wanted.
The silence sought began to seep from my fingers,
And the glow of her face began to fade.

She's tired.

When the world feels smooth,
Like warm butter,
I gently place my fingertips;
To poke the tiny pink flowers,
That lay hidden in the field,
Waiting to be swayed by the wind.

I know it has something to do with happiness,
contentment.
It has some association to daily life,
ordinary things.
It is bonded to even the miracles that seldom visualize in experience.

It's about chance versus choice.
About fate versus decision.
& it's not something that is complete.....
....yet..

Our paths drift,
We fall out,
You don't follow me anymore;
Because you want to live here,
And I want to reside there.

You prefer that story,
Which inevitably contradicts mine.
As I melt into anger,
You shine from excreted ember's hue.

You embrace the aches as I push them away,
You ride as I resist;
That is our fatal destination.

I'm going to explode.
I'm going to combust,
But I'm proud to do such a thing!
I'm proud to be alive!

Why does it have to hurt?
Don't tell me it's choice.
There are many things we have yet to understand,
And emotions are valid.
And it's fine that I ponder and ache.
It matters.

I will cradle myself till tears subside.
Though fatal the pain appears,
I will persuade myself whole.
If not today, soon.
It means more to me to let go of my pride than lose you.

It is time now-
To start respecting my empty void,
And mirror my love back to you.

Oh god, how I love everything about you!
How everything I see screams it in my ears "i love you!"
You, you silly boy.
Such a naked boy,
ashamed of life and emotions.

Oh, let me love you!

I survive off heartache.
I am tempted by sadness.
Such things are goosebumps,
Such things are lights reflecting off the still water,
Such things are nights by the fire wrapped in quilt.

Peace found in love,
In emotional destruction,
In passionate aching.

Sometimes, I want to befriend death.
Not to evade it,
But to watch myself suffer.

Don’t buy into it.
Don’t lose yourself by the ads, the images, the appeals.
It is here to make you pay for it-“you lack this”.
Of course you lack it.
“It” is man-made; it cannot be obtained.
No one can fulfill that, not one thing can fulfill that lack, that hole, nothing but yourself.
Give yourself that love, give yourself that nourishment, because those things, those images and stereotypes, they cannot, will not, give you satisfaction.
It’s a game.
*** has become a game, music has become a game.
In order to win the game, you must be the best.
You must play well, and you must have everything they sell you.
It is Competition; and it is killing us.

Only love for self-as we are, as we were born to be, can overcome the lack.
And the best thing about this love,
Once you live it,
Accept it,
Be it,
You drop competition.
And once you drop competition,
Suffering ends,
Wars end,
Hatred and negativity ends.

But humans don’t want to drop competition,
Because humans have adapted their minds  
To live in fear,
Because fear gives them something to do.
It gives us something to accomplish.
And this, this makes me sad.