like prairie grass
shifting in a breeze skipping
across the top of an endless flatness

pushed and carried on currents
resisting consistent direction

ocean tides pulled, and winds
through the mountain passes
echoed songs other than those
we thought we had drafted

There be none of Beauty’s daughters
With a magic like thee;
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me:
When, as if its sound were causing
The charmed ocean’s pausing,
The waves lie still and gleaming,
And the lulled winds seem dreaming;

And the midnight moon is weaving
Her bright chain o’er the deep,
Whose breast is gently heaving
As an infant’s asleep:
So the spirit bows before thee,
To listen and adore thee,
With a full but soft emotion,
Like the swell of Summer’s ocean.

A maze made of streets,
They bend and twist
And go nowhere.
They're too huge so you get lost.
Then, narrower and narrower,
They softly suffocate you.

A jungle made of buildings,
Benches and streetlights
And cafès and noise.
The City wants you.
She clearly calls you
With her siren voice.

A cobweb of thoughts,
it hangs in your mind:
"All the efforts have come to nought,
The overwhelming daily grind."
Then a little path appears,
A path that goes backwards.

The only way to escape.
It's made of bright memories
And friendly faces.
It's the need to go back
And search for cosy places.
It's the need to find ourselves.

"its your fault that everything dies;
its because you don't love it enough."*
                                                                               so it was my fault
                                                                     that you killed yourself
                                                                   i mustn't have loved you
                                                                                                  enough
                                                                                           i'm so sorry
come back to me
and i'll love you
with even more
than my existence
i'll love you more
than anyone could
just come back to
me, i miss you
everything hurts
i'm sorry
it's my fault
i'm sorry
come back
please
i love you

I cannot begin to describe
The thoughts that go through my mind
When  I think of you.
You make me think of things
I haven't thought about since I was six,
And it's like you know what
Thoughts I will think tomorrow.

Beep.
Beep.
Boop.

Beep.
Beep.
Boop.
Boop.

Beep.
Beep.
Bebop.
Bo­op.

Beep.
Beep.
Boop.

Through sun baked window

I see the world in nightly splendor

Pockmarked by the evening stars

Adorned with the mournful call of a distant how
l
t is quiet

It is terrifying

Yet it is deafening and beautiful

A canvas made for open minds