Do not ***** over the flourishing flowers 
of those who surround you.
Do not form conspiracies,
not even to target your saboteurs.

For it has always been immanent--their loss.
And when the day comes--their loss--
you will be left with nothing to exult over.
You will be filled with vengeance 
against no one but yourself.

For memories of your deriding 
will be the ones to remain,
and all else will be in decadence.
You will have no time for your musings,
you will acquire no self-respect. 

The littlest of their littlest actions are bound to be missed--
their awkward laugh, their freckles, their drawn-out sighs--
as your own blooming flowers will disintegrate
into amber ashes of those lost souls
that will embed in your skull,
engulfing you in madness. 

So do not ***** over the flourishing flowers 
of those who surround you,
because even if their existence had ceased,
your self-worth will still not increase.

Lay with me now;
may we find relief in the silence of
our beating hearts,
and the chaos of
our writhing souls.

Lay with me now;
past midnight.
A constellation forming in your mind,
stars twinkling in your eyes;
showing its way right through.

Lay with me now;
and let our fingertips touch.
Let your passion of the world
overflow
into my hollow body.

Render me speechless by how you
know me too well by stating that
I want nothing more than
every part of your spirit
in full exposure.

Embellish your lies with a wreath
to evade the wretched truth.
Wrap it around them as a sheath,
prudent as to not show ruth.

Cajole me into thinking that
most harm done is inadvertent,
and those harmed are still intact,
on their way to the top, ascendant.

Plant in me the bliss
I have been yearning for.
Elate me with calmness
from the surface of my being,
down to my very core.

Expiate the job of the universe,
and allow us all to lapse.
Leaving behind a world--cursed,
yet free of sullen poets.