I have an obsession with depression
When the sun makes summer days everlasting
and I'm left grasping at melancholy ideas
my mind slips back into it's natural state
self-hate will forever govern my fate
and I'm tired of living like it's all okay
and that I'm supposed to live a certain way
I'm over the monotony and hopeless love
that can't be found because constantly flirting and
never getting anywhere is doing nothing but hurting my
already shattered heart while the dreams that I once had
that people convinced me were bad have all been beaten down to more realistic goals based off of what I've always been told.
When I stop doing what is expected of me
that's when I can finally see
my true self gasping for air in the pit of my stomach where
I pushed it so long ago;

clawing to get out.

We used to celebrate together
The occasion of our close births
Cause to throw one hell of a party
Now I must go alone in our revelry
The edges water colored with wistful wishing
That you were here to help blow out all of these candles
I miss you in every little way
Jeremiah, Happy Birthday

30 years now I've been here
A drop in the bucket
A lifetime full
Realizing that the majority of my 20's
Have been spent loving and caring
For those who's hands have been helpless
Plans laid out that I drew blueprints for
Coming together in squeeze tights ends
I need to learn to let go
Blowing out candles one by one
Each their own silent wish
A milestone reached
*Happy Birthday to me

Wouldn't it be something
if we knew nothing
and spoke in breaths
airless of pretense
and fell in love
with one another.

We project the shallows
In the hopes that you will
Let us hide from the shadows
Of the deep

The day it is a waning
Long streams of soft blue, deep violet
Ozone veins carrying the wakeful into sleep
I peak now
Eyes bright with moonlight
Stars dancing brilliantly against ink black anti-matter pools
I would go out drifting tenderly amongst those memories
Even if their edges tear apart from gravity
The knowing would suffice
Come dream with me 3am wanderers
Let the cushion of the unseen comfort
Sore spots that we no longer urge to heal

i don't have anything to say. not really. how can i when my own bones feel like strangers that pilfered a body when nobody was looking? when i speak, small echoes of some one else kindly pull at my fingertips, slipping under the nail and past the cuticle where it unfolds like sad gods found to be made of origami swimming in a sea of memes. it hurts like hell. and so, i've come to know silence. it holds me. brand new shell. my process, felt.