I find peace in the rain
like drops of pain drain down
rabbit holes and relic phones
missing calls made many moons ago
like waves and floods and blooming buds
new beginnings, measly winnings, still not your heart
take me apart, with broken glass, cracks
and paper creases, pleas and pleases
pieces, proving parts still move in hearts
hold fast for hurricanes that say to leave her
for love I'll be a firm believer.

If a taste could be liberation
then all I want is you.
Freedom is the essence
of you're being and
I just wanna be up in it.

Chills down my spine
sweat across my chest
that's your love coming
through my pores.

It's like...
clarity with no
Claritin-D
I can breathe just fine.

I've never known myself
before, a feeling
I didn't think was true.
But I'm changing.

Wipe my slate clean
because all I want is you.
A little untraditional
but I've fallen for a queen.

A taste was my liberation
in an essence...
you allowed me
to be free, to just
let it- let me
just be.

Yawning damp corridors
Vacant sunken narthexes
The dull light of candles
And that of a fading sun

A somber hymn
Of dissonant chords
Echoes through the walls
Of weathered and ancient stone

Distant voices call out
Through the abandoned ages
Undefined by time or space
Yet eternally bound within them

A hollow moon rises
Through the stained and dusty windows
Soothing the spirits
In their sepulchral chambers

Bidding them return
Across vast deserts of sleep
To the eternal oasis
Of lost and sable dreams

I grew up weird.
Both fast, and painfully slow.
I understood everything and nothing.
Socially, I started confident and grew awkwardly
first in the sun, then bending away from such bright attentions. Academically I started out running, always ahead,
always the best, the brightest. Straight As and
mismatched clothes, socially lost
yet somehow showing
'great potential'.

Now I've learned a lot.
All blacks and grays, I've finally
mastered at least a portion of my shortcomings
but its too late. Because I've grown up and its shifted again
analytically I see it, can emulate it, but it isn't
familiar or comfortable, it took me
years to catch up and I'm
still behind.

I've grown up weird.

In its immensurate clarity,* In its elongation of whatever time is left to my uprightness; that thrice divided second before you make the first incision Balloons and collapses upon my space, in my air.

Concussed, winded: I  should dig in to counter the character dissection,
to appeal with all ire against this clinical dismissal and if necessary I will make myself aged and rage grey, a ghost of one last furious effort.

Two weakening supply lines open up from my heart and twist like lovers
throttling one another for the right to carry the thickest blood and tonic
to my left-right-left brain. I see both outcomes as unreal orbs in each palm:

Fought, but foundered, I could go in lunar were-peace towards the rough hewn exit I saw you cut through the nearest physical plane for me.
It has splintered, like young wood does, in a bunch of feather and spike.

But if I just sit down here instead, let you flay me from a distance
and have trial and have done? Then pack my deserved wounds with dirt and paint me justly black. My reeking cowardice, to match your triumph.

It is an unnatural horror to fight you, to choose between prompt defeats or the slow-burn aggregate loss of small and token victories. With less life to live and more to chip away at, I begin to just eke.

There is no shortcut, no revelation in user experience that floors the bad design leaving me wanting. There is no way to win at you.
You are Dependable terror. I just *eke.