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cosmo naught Jun 2015
You  were  toying  with  my head, with
how   you   said   the  things   you  said
the  way   you   phrased  them   for  the
better,   then   much worse.    Walk  out
or    walk     away  ,  keep    on    saying 
what  you're  saying ,  but  all  I   hear's
c    o     m    p     l    a     i     n     i     n    g
and      your       echoes       in     reverse.
cosmo naught Jan 2018
I want something to feel.
so bad.
I'm having
pizza guy fantasies.
Looking through the peep hole,
my hand on a crisp 20
#3
cosmo naught Jul 2015
#3
"sooner sit in silence than in nonsense"
(a wasted breath to hush a quiet audience)

when writing-singing-screaming
to share ideas and dreams
doesn’t seem to change a thing
(none, some or all of it)

"there’s a peace of mind in private"
(it's not what I thought of it)
cosmo naught Feb 2016
He (is sullen and shaking
and sunken-in so
that he somehow seems shrunken
despite that he's grown,
but he) carries me dutifully
home through a storm
and my shirt may be soaked,
but my feet are still warm.

He trudges (begrudgingly)
over the curbs.
(I cry out for help but
I mince my own words.
I'm hurting him, heavy;
but) his arms seem steady,
intent and so ready
to hold me(,
I hope true, to the words
that he's told me).

(Please,) "Don't put me down
(let me down) just yet."
"Turn your key in the door
and forget about this.
"
(So I lie through my teeth)
"Thanks for bringing me home,"
(sooner you'd left me then
than leave now and alone).
cosmo naught Jan 2013
The overhang saves my parking place
on warm nights, too dark for walking.
Green and alive, it juts out above the brick,
a shapely mess of twig and vine.

By noon, I unlock my doors to find
that it has littered my car with seedpods.

Each with five projections:
finger-like, with digits,
like your hands, like your fingers;
sliding off my body as I pull away.

In moments,
I am half-way home
and my car is clean.
5am
cosmo naught Jan 2011
5am
I like waking up
when I am feeling too warm
because you are there
cosmo naught Jun 2015
I only see you
in the dreams I fall asleep in:
the daydreams in my nightmares,
right before the darkness creeps in.
Behind a pane I cannot break,
I watch as if I'm wide-awake:
the flashback as I sink
into the deep end.

We meet behind the words
inside our stories.
You lie to me and me to you,
the whole thing is annoying.
"Never so alive!"
will be the vehicle we drive
as we go diving from the cliff
into the quarry.

I thought gravity, for granted,
was to ground me
'til it pulled the seven shores in
all around me.
It was a slight tectonic shift
that pushed my sanity out drifting
into nonsense:
time is tasted, spaces sound.
I am landlocked,
but convinced that I have drowned.
I had a flashback (or a dream)
that when we kissed, I heard your secrets
and they tasted so, so sweet
inside my mouth.
cosmo naught May 2016
I daydream briefly
and I think about
the softened, muted features
of a female, screaming silently
and tearing at her shoulder blades.
(who is she, who could she be)

the softened, muted features
of an abandoned cardinal mother,
screeching at the loss of scarlet lover.
(where is he, or could he be)

the softened, muted features
of myself alone and sleeping,
finger tucked inside a book
I haven't read about self-love
that I just like to tuck my fingers in.
(how am I, how could I be)

*I don't know why
I want to tell you
but I do,
I really do.
I think my heart
is in an okay place
and think that
yours is too.
cosmo naught May 2016
I am so impatient
but I practice
while awaiting
your 'I love you'.

I wait
and wait
and wait
but, here, today,
there's not one for me.

Your words are all but hollow,
almost like another name—
you tell me,
'I'll be here tomorrow'
and it almost feels the same.
cosmo naught Sep 2013
My breath,
light and quickening,
candle flame flickering,
rose-scented sweat
     on my skin

Your fists,
clenched like iron grips,
backs arched to our tips,
bridging where we'll go,
     where we've been

But tomorrow,
in the sunrise,
with both of us here,
will you think about me?
or about her and everything?
The kindling you saw in her eyes
when she told you
if she wasn't his,
you'd be hers
(and if you not mine,
then her, yours).

When I grabbed at the sheets
and you grabbed for your jeans
Was it about your hurry?
or about her and everything?
Everything, everything, all of and anything,
anything that is not me.
cosmo naught Jun 2014
Here we go again
with the delusion that the end
will justify our means.
We don't need to change
if our conscience is clean.

Absolutely apathetic:
Do nothing and you can't regret it.
A waste of time of yours and mine,
you realize, but you don't get it.
Absolute absurdity,
the lengths I'll go so nothing hurts me,
the things I know that should concern me,
but I just can't seem to care.
What's it matter when we're going nowhere?

There can't be a new beginning
when everything revolves around losing and winning;
it's more like time that gets away.
While my head is spinning
you try to hold my hand,
and, though my words are fitting,
you don't seem to understand.

Absolutely apathetic:
Do nothing and you can't regret it.
A waste of time of yours and mine,
you realize, but you don't get it.
Absolute absurdity,
the lengths I'll go so nothing hurts me,
the things I know that should concern me,
but I just can't seem to care.
What's it matter when we're going nowhere?

What are we doing anyway?
I started this morning just like yesterday,
but the world is full of lies and pitfalls,
greedy hands and worried phone calls.
I'd rather build my hell
and paint the walls.

So let's do nothing!
I don't wanna do a ******* thing.

We're proud and we're stoic,
but we pretend like we don't notice.
Life's too short to lose your focus,
or you'll end up losing your way
and start the same tomorrow as you did today.

Let's do nothing!
New song coming along.
cosmo naught Mar 2016
On grandchildren
(by accident)
I told my mother
and my father:

I'd not force
another life
without asking
its permission first.


I almost took it back
to tell them
it's okay and that
I know
I was an accident.
cosmo naught Aug 2013
Fifteen cents in my pocket
feels like losing.
Each drag leaves me a dime
and five grams of coin,
a fiend.

An addict never gets his change
in ones.
Just fives and tens.
cosmo naught Apr 2016
Am I myself deluded?
No—I am myself, diluted.
Filtered,
faded
to occlusion
and remade
of dissolution
here, the farthest
in the future
I'd imagined
myself
being—

and I still want to love you
but I want to love me better.
cosmo naught Feb 2016
We love ourselves so much
we program children.
The while, each day
we watch as we
become our mother,
mother's mother,
mother's mother's mother,
cosmo naught Sep 2015
I was depressed and called it ~lifted~
(still get off on being cryptic)
Did my best to take it back
but found my love had been regifted.
Now, though, surely I have grieved,
I'm done suspending disbelief:
let's put this one to bed
and get some sleep.
cosmo naught May 2018
I know you think I know the truth.
all truth, or so you thought.
I think you think I am the truth.
or was (but I am not.)
And I know you think you know that,
but I left it all unsaid.
The truth is I'm holding a bird in my hand,
but the bird in my hand — it is dead.
cosmo naught Oct 2018
you are not more important than me.
cosmo naught Jun 2015
every verse
is a promise
as broken
or strong as
i find myself
cosmo naught Nov 2012
I planted flowers in the bed--
I tilled the ground up new:
for daffodil and iris bulbs
to grow tall in your lieu.

Not lily nor mum,
no, nothing did come:
as did nothing of you.
cosmo naught Sep 2017
I know it's the last thing
that you want to hear
but he made me feel
like you make me feel.

It's not that I'm trying
to hurt you, I fear
though, that he made me feel
like you make me feel.

I need to know
what I'm feeling is real
so, "Get out of here,
do not bring yourself near me."

(I'd rather stay quiet
and cry myself out
if I'd otherwise cry out
while no one could hear me.)
cosmo naught Jan 2011
sitting at my job,
back in the lobby corner.
half-an-hour break.

no eyes fixed on me,
mine shift between the patrons,
coworkers, and boss.

when did these people
stop being happy? was there
a single moment?

or did it happen
slowly, creeping in without
much noise or notice?

tired employees,
uniform and all the same,
bleeding, same blank pain.

I have to look at
my blue socks sometimes to think
I'm any different.
cosmo naught Nov 2014
You're fiddling with your buttons,
I try to speak but nothing's
gonna help.
You've gotta deal with this yourself.
You're fooling with your jacket zipper
and I can tell you miss her.
I can tell,
and I'll miss you as well.

The earth is moved beneath me,
I'm a world away from you.
The light posts are all crooked
and the road is buckled, too.
You tell me that you're sorry,
but there's nothing I can do.
It's time to move.

Your hands run through your hair,
they tend to do that when you care
about how you sound,
while your mind's running around.
You go to bite your lip
and I can tell that this is it.
You speak so loud
when you hardly move your mouth.

You don't turn to watch me go,
you always act like you don't know
what to expect.
Regardless, it comes next.
My foot taps on the gas,
escaping questions I can't ask.
They interject.
The light ahead only reflects.

The earth is moved beneath me,
I'm a world away from you.
The light posts are all crooked
and the road is buckled, too.
You tell me that you're sorry,
I know there's nothing I can do.
I'm sorry, too.
«»
cosmo naught May 2013
What exactly does it mean for me
to wisely my time allocate--
abstain, refrain, to lie in wait?
What more, in afterlife, will I see
in living this life pleasure-free?
Have I opted out of golden gate,
if I, myself, do desecrate,
a Plan which may or may not be?

What precisely does it mean for me
to think instead I choose free-will?
Is there such thing as novelty
or is all written, so it shall be?
As the great end nears, I will know nil;
as I know not now, I will know then, still.
cosmo naught May 2015
I was blinded at first,
I don't know how I found you.
Could not see, but could feel,
so I, raveled, unwound you:
Aurora unreal,
wrapped in ribbons and crowned,
you made blessings of curses
I'd ignored looking downward.

Plot holes and thought games
were ploys of the passionate
who'd answer his question
before even asking it.
Knowing the cost
of the dignity lost,
and so clear that the price would be paid,
I would still play that game
all **** day.

When your magnetic field
rerouted the map,
the shift was a gift
fallen into my lap.
Your voice constant hums
what I could not be told:
*Turn the corner ahead
and the streets are all gold.
cosmo naught May 2016
I finally washed my bed sheets.

But on Mondays,
I still water that ******* orchid.

That beautiful blue *******
blooms a new hue every week.

And every week, I am forced to remember
(how could I forget)
how I watered and waited
for a new you to bloom—

not one more beautiful,
not one more suave,
or more handsome, or clever—

but the one you assured me was ripening, quiet
like the beautiful ******* before me.
The one that would love me,
despite being lifeless
for giving you all that supports me.



I thought about throwing it out

but every week,
the orchid keeps its promise.




"Crime and punishment grow out of one stem. Punishment is a fruit that, unsuspected, ripens with the flower of the pleasure that concealed it."
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
cosmo naught May 2015
What an unfortunate coincidence
that you'd appear. so beautiful
on the first day, I forgot
to think. your name,
Such a beautiful coincidence
or) unfortunate event, it is.
the product and the
quotient. all the same
all the same
cosmo naught Jul 2016
My parents have been together for just shy of twenty-five years—just shy of how long I've been alive. A favorite photo of mine is their wedding party.  My dad is stepping forward, smiling, and instructing a pause. I am cradled in the next photo.

They're still together in a relationship that's not at all like storybook love, but they downright could not function without the other. Where one goes, the other annoyedly follows. My mom puts out the fires and my dad takes out the trash.

Being the ******* child that tied them together is funny. As soon as I learned how it is that they love, I realized just how much they love me. But to watch them fight is so funny. Being half of each of them is so funny. To see and feel solutions and to internally diffuse their clamor before explaining how or why is so funny a feeling. I think they are surprised when I know things about them that they don't realize or share. After twenty-five years I am surprised that there are things that they don't know about each other or themselves. They bred it, and it's me. Then again, I am surprised each time I learn a thing about myself I did not know. But it's dad's birthday so stop being difficult and let's go to Red Lobster.
cosmo naught Dec 2016
******* later,
sing Caligulove slow
at the foot of your bed
cosmo naught Apr 2012
dreams suspend me
and render me breathless,
in transcendent bliss with you.
without tethers or binds,
so clear in my mind
is the freedom i've missed with you.
my heart throbs wildly,
from the feelings inside me-
for the things that i wish that you knew.
it's here in this place,
where i know only your face,
that i tell you i love you, and do.
cosmo naught Apr 2015
Near or distant
slack & tension
One persists, the
sort of mention

Bound too tight
to see the other
lost in sight of
One each-other
«»

Dreaming about rubber bands.
cosmo naught Aug 2016
If you think no one can change
then you believe this of yourself
and if you think this of yourself
then this is why.
Don't listen to the parts of you
that don't tell you the truth
should they benefit
if you believe the lie.
cosmo naught Sep 2017
The heart is more
like bone.
Weight-bearing.

With more impact,
fissures show
the tiny ways
a heart can break.

Scarring over.
Growing older
makes a heavy heart.
cosmo naught Jun 2015
"Should we break up?"
(like the universe that, lying, we once worshipped
where I found the wooded field
/you foraged flowers.)

"Is it over?"
(like the night that you mistakenly uncovered and,
unknowingly, addressed my naked fears.)

"Please don't go yet."
(from the back of my old car, we learned to stretch the time and space
to make them ours.)

Should we break up,
(like morning does),
(unlike to lie in bliss, so-laughing)
I'd lose foresight
for my eyes, so full of tears.
«»

Dichotomy:
(botany)
repeated branching of dicotyledons into two equal parts with a tendency for secondary growth
cosmo naught Dec 2015
nothing is sacred
but all things divine
chemical flesh
bound to mineral spine
volt-gated thoughts
shock a malleable mind
infinite loss
in so finite our time
cosmo naught Mar 2015
Hope for you
is shattered.
Unflattered,
unimpressed.
Bit more than you
could chew
and so
you swallowed whole
the rest.
A year,
now in regression.
An obsession
would begin.
All my words
were yours to keep
when they escaped
the pen.
«»

as well as those unwritten.
cosmo naught Jan 2011
You’re my sun.
You rise and I tingle,
Your rays spread and I sing.
cosmo naught Feb 2012
my favorite part
is, I'm not sure
which of us was trembling;
maybe both.
cosmo naught Jan 2011
I have looked into your eyes—
into your dreams and through your mind.
Watching you look over me,
I see naught but wasted time.
cosmo naught Oct 2015
listing, lilting reveries
for ghosts of the chrysanthemums,
you listen, tucked between my knees,
for crying out as autumn comes,
then breathe the bottled air
while lying silent in the pasture
as the sun that rises slow,
renounced as Master,
dries the aster.
steady, subtle change renames
the song we'd often sung
which, ravaged, new and agèd,
saps the honey from my lungs.
to lie in leaves and rapture
turns my bones Parisian plaster:
crack my ribs and what is there
is yours to capture.
cosmo naught Oct 2015
You: a fire hazard,
and I am the glowing-red exit

whose handle you hold
just to be sure
nothing burns
on the other side.

But nothing can burn me.
What's burning is you,

on the outside
of the exit door.
cosmo naught Jul 2017
you thought it all was real
like we were,
didn't you?
now the world's a bad trip—
like a page from your
sick hero's handbook,
without the lie—
and no connection.
you thought it all was real.
what's worse is i did too.
cosmo naught Feb 2016
.
.
.
Do you feel
at home
in your body?

.
.
.
If I did
then
I wouldn't
have asked
second-person
.
.
.
cosmo naught Aug 2015
In a cross between
distortion and redemption,
soft pleas reveal and ease
our hidden tension.
It's only right to fix
the buckled road that led to this:
to mix up what is left
and what there isn't.

I am mixed up in what's left
and what there isn't.


Is love unlimited?
Could I amend all that I did?
admit defeat and use my walls
to bridge the distance?
I'll add my fragment thoughts up
with my heart's holy persistence.
Oh, tell me there's a way
to bridge the distance.

The lengths that I would go
to bridge the distance.

*Perhaps I should
stand still instead
in this specific instance.
cosmo naught Apr 2018
we certainly got  to know
somethings about each other
but to know really  nothing
,maybe that's the thing
we have  in common,
and i think that's fine.
.
.
.
cosmo naught May 2018



this morning, walk to work with you.
Better than ***.


I think that we've figured it out.
If we want it forever, then now we know how
.
cosmo naught Nov 2015
lucid disorient, waking at dusk—
you can leave if you must,
but don't rush it.
my polished exterior, hiding a husk,
looks like silk to the touch,
so don't touch it.

lazing away
through both halves of the day,
I'd've lain in your aura
accordant.
but off you must go
so I won't let you know
that each moment,
your absence is torment.
cosmo naught Nov 2013
I've never had much of a green thumb.
No,
I've always been far better
at burying things
than planting them.
cosmo naught Mar 2015
You'll find ashes in the keys
from when I burned to stop the bleed,
and you can choose to think of me
but I know you won't.
When you go to say you're sorry,
I hope you don't.
«»

12/30/14
cosmo naught Nov 2013
all of my journals
are graveyards
of half-written things
and half-lived experiences
with half-hearted repentance,
because i can't even commit
to being noncommital.

still,
flipping through them offers
a full representation
of the half-alive girl
who wrote them.
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