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I'm hyperventilating at the titillating notion
That when there was love in the air
We should have taken deeper breaths
The wind is warm in the summer
Each passing breeze is seamless
And lacks any lenience
Short gusts reveal its grievance
But upon inhale I can still taste its sweetness
I exhale
And with it a kiss
A small wisp whispers a wish
I pluck a single leaf from my tree
Untainted and pristine
An unfathomable green
Hold it within my folded hands
The wind shifts as if to say
Keep it
But I release it anyway
People often say to me “I wish I could write like you.”
Which to some degree I should find humbling
But if only they knew the truth
That every time I touch the pen I'm afraid of what it might do
Behind the guise of self expression it takes possession
All defenses are torn a sunder in pain under its reign
And I am helpless to stop it
Like I would, even if I could anyway
Each tear in me is subject to its tyranny
I watch every sunset fearfully
As the veil of darkness falls
So do the castle walls
It is then that the pen will begin to possess me again
Coercing confessions of sin
However, as much I hate it
I abhor I love it more
I concede that I need it
There is a stink of distinction
Between me and this ink pen
Yet still somewhat synonymous
Whatever I hide under the surface
Determines its purpose
And it always serves it
Even if it hurts when
I bleed through this pen.
Your soul is corrosive like acid. I can see it as it burns around the edges of your eyes, while they wander across the tips of tails from smoke trails telling compelling lost tales of torn sails and the botched sales of notched rails. But not bales of hay because, hey, who pays my bail anyway? When the rain hits, memories fade like a fragrance but I'm afraid your scent has stayed like a line from Hemingway. I never get to play on the home run hitting team it’s teeming with talent but even more talons. The claws in my paws put a pause in the clause.  The only time you take a breath from your speech is to kiss me, and even though it’s always on the lips I can never believe a single word you speak. Each sentence makes sense but my 2 cents makes none. I feel like I'm flying when in reality I'm just dust in the wind. Ash from my volcano caught in your tornado wishing I could say no. No voice inside the vortex besides the one that whispers you’re next. Escape is a poor jest. You can try to defy or deny but no one will find your hubris humorous. Though the flames are luminous they are not nearly numerous enough. So, I was forced to meddle with my mettle on a metal like melody until each element eloquently fell from me. Are you telling me you’d rather keep reveling in this felony?
Indigo sunrise on midnight skies
Crimson fog rolls on and over every shoulder
Soul demands that were holding hands
But our fingers never interlace as we enter space
And exit gracefully
We all together free-fall forever
Heavily bleeding hardly breathing
Heavenly seething far from leaving
Ironic how the difference between a smile and a grin is within the eyes
Are you certain your discernment wasn't descended from a serpent?
There’s purpose on the surface but everything under that is worthless  
Too many links in the chain to measure its length
Or the faith in its own strength
Beguiled by the mild high of the wild fly
Who, somehow always remembers to forget
However never has to do either
Welcome to the bottom of the rabbit hole.
Here lies Babylon dead and gone,
but you can have it all if that’s what your after.
Though I don’t think it will matter when it shatters on the ground.
Never have I, ever, made or heard a sadder sound.
Still, to the victor go the spoils so I didn't uproot and move
I ripped my brain stem from the soil.
Now with little to no relevance withering pedals of pestilence represent my intelligence, I fell against this hellishness to find myself comfortable and content.
I wonder what it all meant, as I sit amidst the madness I had this vision of slinking back into the blackness, like the light is too bright for me, but it just so happens the darkness wrongfully longed for me.
Alas my past filled up so fast; Hot breath on cold glass.
So I continue sitting in my throne of obsidian tapping my pitch fork on my thick horns and rubbing my reddened skin.
Searching for something to say to them and then, all thoughts of this onslaught stop when a voice rings
"Thank you, for all the tar and featherings, you have given me my angel wings."
I was loving my trip down memory lane, until it became painful. I have such a new sane brain, but the same stained halo.

That’s the risk when I reminisce of the Mist, while the whole world's bliss slips through my fingertips. Still, I missed the point.

With no comprehension, flipped a coin, and I filled my vision with fiction. Like an addiction to friction, everything had to be rough including the way that I loved.

I’m not saying I live with regret, I'm just trying to learn from my missteps. As I’m walking this tight rope I’m holding no high hopes.

I'm keeping my mind open and focused only to notice, I’m still on the ground. They're crowding around demanding my crown.

And I can only scream one thing,
I know an angel
with a broken halo.
I swear that
when she wears her hair back
it looks like horns.
I gave her the most
beautiful rose
the earth grows,
even though it had the worst thorns.
But of course she clutched it,
Even though others wouldn't touch it.
And as she began to bleed,
I couldn't believe,
I started to weep.
As it got harder to speak, part of the dream parted with me.
So, naturally,
I'm acting free
but, actually,
what's happening
is I'm just running from what's after me.
And I don't even have to be.
Now go ahead, laugh at me.
You have to see
I crafted me
a mastery
using practically
half of me.
I claimed the throne happily.
bow before your Majesty.

As I sit,
and I watch her
  from the chair
   in the corner.
    I forget,
     I'm not going to be here
      in the morning.
       Even though,
        Yesterday looks
         so sweet,
          as she lay there
            I already promised
                today we would meet.
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