I have learned to look away
form the gleaming day
to embrace the shade,
to kiss the lips of my pain,
and smile nostalgically
knowing there is no hope for me.

I have learned to love
unpossessively
because any higher degree
would probably be seen
as super creepy
from this old and sleepy
crater sized cracked
heart hole that leaks
poetry which speaks
to the innermost of my
cringy crying ghost being.

In observing from
a digital distance
I have forgone
the need for any resistance.
You can be as dismissive
as you would like to be
and will not really break me.

I am super friendly
adoring
the heart you’re exploring,
whilst ignoring
any potential heartache
because a heart that breaks
from this far away
doesn’t hold any shape.
It’s just pretty little
glittering glass shards
sparkling and dancing
in the early spring
as I lay down to sing,
its crystal razors shredding
my heart from
the equal distance of
fantasies and the sun.

In person I would
happily succumb,
lay under your thumb
green with envy
for any other who
would challenge me
for just a fraction of
a chance to love and see
those feeling returned to me.

But on the internet
you are my sweet 2d
daydream that screams
blood curdling visions
of inspiration into my being.

So fatigued,
glued to
what I see
as heavy
lids pull me
down to sleep.

But just before
I am pulled to
the other shore,
where stars
and dreams
beckon me
to a place
beyond belief,

I lay pondering
all that I have been
squandering,
wondering
how long
can a road
roll on
till all
my family
is long gone,
till I can’t go on
cause I am
all alone
wondering what
else could go
oh, so wrong.

Sleep claims
that stress
that strains
my overtaxed brain
and I wake the next day
feeling ok.

I am an overzealous ant
marching forward towards
the winds that block any rewards.

Perhaps it is better that,
like a gnat
I can’t
fathom how miniscule I am,
because contemplating my own
insignificance
would paralyze me,
and in indecisiveness
I would succumb to
a predator’s predilections.
  
Sorry sweety that crap was
the last gasp of an exhausted brain.
Blood pan waiting to expand
as useless feces falls freely
from the top
that is ready to drop
and stop
thinking.

Poetry attempting to
discover ourselves minus
the lies imposed upon us
by others and ourselves
is quite difficult,

because we can’t always be as grand as
the deep blue sea or swirling space clouds
that pirouette in that cosmic mess we call infinity.

Many hearts could be broken
by the smallest token
of your strange affections;

How delightfully crushed,
cause hearts always want too much
as such jealous and hopeful
****** beating things
that turn out to be less agile
and more perfectly fragile.

As for me I will treasure these
sweet poetic interludes
at a safe distance from you,
cause I am certain
that you could put a major hurting
on my heart.

I will get small sparks
for little parts
of playful verses
throughout the day,
then type and save
them to my phone.
Eventually, working them
into to something by the end
of the night,

but if I don't have
any inspiration by evening's end,
I will play some instrumental music
I haven't listened to yet,
look at paintings online,
and read some poetry
from Tumblr till something hits.

I have passed out
tiny parcels,
perfect little
packages
filled with
my hopefulness.

Given the essence
of my impermanence,
pursued truths
to earn a bit,
but my restlessness
has me rushing towards
shocking storms
of lightning and loving
all that is a detriment
to my mental health.

A poet obsessive
observing and writing
perspectives I didn’t earn,
and in turn
passing them down
like I am a clown
all painted and streaked
while tears leaked,
aching for what
I never seek.

I have given dreams.
In fantasies
chased the lips of
someone I could love,
fantasized about sweet lies
as she would whisper sweetly
echoes of my feeling.

Poetry presented prosaically,
as everything I am, will be,
and was, with just a pinch
of what I will never see.

I am ill-equipped
to take a trip
down the bits
of a broken
rainbow road.

All sparkles
and glittering
a smattering
of shattering
glass reflections
that shred my
bare feet
as I am
journeying
down these
colorful streets.

I’d prefer
the more disturbed
shadowy
sidewalks
in the city of
forgotten loves
and lost memories.
A realm with
clouds that flit
from one
gloomy day
to the next.

I guess
I’ve just
become adapted to
grays and blues,
stray hues
that I use
to paint a world
where abuse
is just the dimming afterglow
of a happy ending tv show
where I learn a lesson
but don’t really grow.
I write but don’t know
why the sirens scream
and poets sing
similar sorrows.

Maybe, I should borrow
Cinderella’s glass slippers
so those rainbow shards
won’t bleed my feet,
and when I finally
fall asleep to meet
someone strange and sweet
my dreams won’t keep
waking me in tears.

I am the awkward
steward of my own stupid being,
pushing forwards
towards the shore,
not asking for
much more or
looking for
a reward,
just searching for
something to explore;

With A jealousy enveloping me
because I believe
so many things can be better,
yet the fog of complacency
hinders our society
as humanity drunkenly stumbles
towards chaos and a self-inflicted extinction
as we are all soon to be
evicted from our planet side life.

I am fury and glass
shattered so fast
that shards slash
and bleed me
before I can see freely,
thin lines of red streaking
and seeking something
underneath the skin.

As I walk through the wearisome
world that I live in,
with abusive people
and all that I give them,
that unspoken permission
to continue hurting
that heart that keeps turning
in self-recrimination,
ready for self-immolating,
exploding and incinerating,
cause I am tired of debating,
or outright stating
that I deserve better
than this ever-inflating bitterness;

When I cannot even
speak into existence
a pittance of the vengeance
that you deserve,
that well-earned remittance,
because my level of empathy
extends to those who hurt me,
while constantly denying
mercy for myself.

I am fatigued and ready to
fall to a slumber were
everyone I ever knew
can no longer reach
out and intrude
with their crude rude
self-important attitude.
Till, I am finally impervious
to all of this madness.