I hear your name everywhere
Your whispers in the buzzing of the bees
Your exasperated sighs in the beeping of the cars
Your ecstatic storytelling in the humdrum of random noises

I see you in every hue
Your calm demeanor in shades of blue
Your road rage in shades of red
Your cheeky laugh in shades of yellow

I taste you in every way
Your kiss in this smooth black chocolate
The warmth of your hand in this bowl of soup
Your icy stare in gulping this cold water

I smell you in every scent
Your warm hug in this cup of coffee
Your compassion in this bouquet of Stargazers
Your glistening eyes in this cigarette

Doctors, please help me
I have the rarest case of synesthesia

When it comes to you,
My brain malfunctions
My senses, once numb, feel everything
All at once
In the most passionate and
In the most heightened sense

To feel you in everything.
To experience you in every way.

My eyes only see you
My nose only smells you
My tongue only craves you
My ears only hear you

My brain only perceives you

My synesthesia
Is only in the form of you.

Poems don't have to rhyme.
What a way to spend your time,
Constrained within a paradigm.
But, admittedly when they do,
They are quite sublime,
Giving each word a reverberating chime.

Writer's block
Is like a rock,
A door that's locked,
A brain out of stock.

The mind is a forest
Still with places where no one goes
It doesn't disclose the secrets no one knows

There is no line between poetry and prose.
Because poems don't have to rhyme.

"-I think we should move him to Mallorca, or some kind of... I dunno, Carribeans? It's too rainy here.
          -Oh honey, I don't think it's going to work..."

These artificial surroundings won't heal my heart.
Transplantation went wrong.
Drip drop, the drops are falling
On leaves
Rain everywhere, soaking everything
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom
In this garden of mine plants live their lives
Roots and stems and leaves
Lovers of rain; seekers of self destruction
Striving to know.

"-How is he? I haven't seen him in a while.
          -No idea. He's acting weird nowadays."

The keeper of the values, the guardian of the golden shell
Believe me, I'm very well.
In this waterfall, this foamy-quick stream
Growing bones around me, the self-stems.

What would occur if gravity failed me and I was lifted far into the heavens,
Past the clouds and into the dark abyss of space?
I would have nothing with me but my mind to reflect the world we all know.
I wouldn’t think for long however,
I would be to busy dancing around with the planets, to remember the harsh words that were said that night.

I would be found hopping around on Saturn’s rings, giving her all the love I could.

I would be found  talking to the Sun,
telling her how we all missed her when she went away for the nights, without her we lay restless and cold waiting for her return.

I would be found comforting Pluto,
See he as well was easily forgotten.

I would meet all the stars that make up the night sky,
and say how we are all inspired by the beauty they give off,
how we all glance up at them at our greatest moment of weakness and remember we aren’t alone, whispering to them all our troubles knowing that they will always be there to listen.

And while everyone goes to sleep, I will finally join them and dream of never leaving this world that I have entered.
I will finally forget you and the lies you told, laying restless no longer.

So if you need to contact me,
I can be found  floating across galaxies, talking to the asteroids, sharing stories of how I thought it would be the end if you left, laughing about the fact that everything was actually better.

I will be among the stars, searching no more for love, because I am loved by the planets and all the stars. I no longer dread on not having the love of another, because there is far more love out there then in you.  
The Earth still spins and the Sun still shines, the only difference being I don’t love you anymore.

starfish
we
make
the
starry starry night
only
because
we are
the
stars of the sea

stars spun together like strands of cotton candy
sweetly melting away into the void of the night sky
in a serene twilight, two sole candles still burning
desperate not to be put out
constellations of small lights, glittering in the dark
to certain eyes, seeming like insignificant dots
to others, paintings of wild fantasies
woven together in a tapestry of the loveliest human souls
can be seen, a picture of us
mere constellations, but in love

gaslit streams of dreams
and now you're psychedelic
soaking in highs and higher you're
throwing me over the bridge
and under a bus but
     >is that a bucatti?
and im telling you
     >no, its just another dead thing
and that seems to catch your blown eyes for a moment
because you smile at me
as if I can't already see the phosphenes dancing behind your gaze but
not before you say
     >what if we could make it one?
and now i'm smiling too because
     >who's to stop us?
the night seemed impossible and
unfortunately, we were still awake.