the nights you call lonely
are the nights i spend
reading and writing and drawing
and loving my own company
i enjoy dreaming of possibilities
and laying in complete silence
you see, my mind is so loud
louder than the party you're at tonight
and for me that is enough
i balance it out by being quiet,
by producing shambles of poetry
and endless jumbles of words
to try and understand
that it is okay to love the silence
and the mystery of who i am
you find yourself in bright lights
and loud music
i find myself in the dark
we have been afraid of our whole lives
it is the darkness and the silence
that make you so scared of us
but we are simply introverts
trying to fit into a world made for you
while you are dancing your heart out
ours are pounding in pride
as we proofread our writing for the 100th time
your open arms and our open minds
embrace in harmony
you see, i started writing us instead of me
because i know i am not alone
on these nights you call lonely
i call lovely

you are an exquisite pain,
an acquired taste for tears.
to love you and to leave unscathed
is like running through the summer forrest
and trying not to be torn by the thistles.
my flesh split to pieces
yet there is more blood to give
and wolves are howling in the distance,
they won’t give up.
the agony, the ache
of the almost that is ‘us’.
to graze something so wonderful
but in the end, fall short.
to love you is to give you my all
and have you still ask for more.
to drain the light from my eyes,
chasing until vanished
and I am left here, in the dark
with no way out.

he called me the most beautiful
shade of gray, a questioning elegance
that held a mystery he couldn’t resist.
I saw him as the dark nighttime air,
swallowing and suffocating whatever
light was offered. and I told myself
that nothing good could come from
this, from being swallowed whole.
but his hands were so gentle
and his voice soothing that I lost
myself in the night’s embrace.

black is the absorption of all colors.
I found the harder I looked, the more
shades I could dissect. he was an
intoxicating red that coarse through
your veins like a virus. he had deep
blues and purples that you had to be
careful while swimming in, do not
submerge yourself too deeply into
those waters or you yourself would lose
your way. he had colors collected by a
lifetime of aspirations and disappointments
and rejected love and affections.
you could see the cracks in the colors
where he fell too short, before he
was stained by circumstances and
obligations. when he was a white
slate, barely turning gray,
vulnerable and new.

Imagine -

this blackness as if it is something
tangible

that you can hide in your
hand

an apple core you can throw
away

when the flesh has been eaten
away

I fall into a medicated sleep
each night

close my eyes to the world
yet still

it moves around me,
pulses

like the streets of a big city
drowned in neon light

I want to touch this hook that has
gutted me

until only my body remains
the outer shell

of something living, the movement
of a clenched fist

plunged into a ribcage that
shatters and pierces the heart

they call it a dog and I know it
is animal

in nature, ruthless,
with an insatiable hunger

I am the root of the dying
flower

resistant but buried under-
ground

I can only see the sun in the
moon

the sea in a handful of salt
rubbed deep into the

wound

There are clouds covering my soul
and I know the rain they're crying
is hurting your heart too.
I'd make it nice and shiny
just so you can feel the warmth,
but I don't know how to do it anymore.
Clouds of silence darkening me whole
unspoken words I have for you
are dying under the tempest
while the blank page stares at me
and I feel useless.

A rain of fire
burning us both.

The sun always shines after a storm
and I hope
a rainbow will appear
before these falling flames
will turn us to ashes
flying over the ocean between.

You can’t, if you can’t feel it, if it never
Rises from the soul, and sways
The heart of every single hearer,
With deepest power, in simple ways.
You’ll sit forever, gluing things together,
Cooking up a stew from other’s scraps,
Blowing on a miserable fire,
Made from your heap of dying ash.
Let apes and children praise your art,
If their admiration’s to your taste,
But you’ll never speak from heart to heart,
Unless it rises up from your heart’s space.

Old man soaked in his *****
Dripping down his pants
Down the flight of stairs
His stare blurry
Past the point of no return, past his dignity
Drowned humanity
Went down with his only little
baby girl now a mother
Not any more
Slain by the hand of her children's father...
I played with them
She was kind and pretty
He was a brute
Shallow and dangerous...

I never saw them again
Kids stayed with the dad
Old man needed his space to fall apart
Police didn't play the part
I am still sick only thinking about
What life some people have to face

You're asking why the comfort doesn't
Keep away the angst?
They're still with me
Memories of all the broken people
I had a chance to meet
They never fade
That memory composed my purpose
Without it I don't exist at all