I walked alone.
Ran apart.

Here we go,
That's what I'd tell myself.

I'd run in,
Throughout puddles,

Into heartlessness.
But that's fine,

I'll be just alright.
That's what I'd tell myself.

i'm getting tired of it.
not in an angry way,
it's just taxing,
to do this one-sided back and forth.

Until I learn to die,
I'll thrive, in the cesspool of my mind.

After I learn to shine,
I'll realize that the stars never tried to align.

What won't **** me, deepens.
Shattering what's left, sending me off the deep end.

I'll never learn to condemn it,
And you're sheltered by my effort to transcend it.

Painted poetry,
All along the hallways.
Hidden in ingenuity,
Your ideas wasted away,
Living in me, almost lucidly.

You know you,
No better,
Than I know myself.
Infatuated.
With the dying ideas,
Of glimmers.
Not of hope, but,
Impossibilities.
I don't mean to.

Builds ups.
Racing hearts and,
Escalating chests.
Precursing,
The death of everything.
Not made.

Hectic clashes of empowered,
Godlike forces.
Torrential.
All within,
The unsteady beating of my heart.

being in the way
of absolutely nothing
is the way to be

time to waste,
a heart to beat.

a god defaced,
now obsolete.

a faith erased,
believed deceit.

as is death without grace,
to pray is to accept defeat.

flip the script,
try again.
don't condemn.
try your best to make amends.

Don't let me go,
I need you to burden me.
Those memories no longer grow.
I needed your roots to feed me, too.
I hid behind every one of your regrets,
So you never said you hated me, but I do.

buy yourself a new lie,
you know it's cheap.
bring me to the graveyard
please, don't forget to weep.
then take my heart.
it's yours to keep.

i flatline my way through life.

a pack a day.
feel yourself waste away,
let your teeth decay,
so you can put your addiction on display.

anomalous, employing confidence despite artlessness,
effortlessly emending residual callowness.
seldom forgetting to find the time and peace of mind
to wield my puerilism as a social chisel,
avoiding parergies, attempting to carve out a balance
in between conscious frivolity and daily drivel.

Skin stretched like a drawn canvas over an empty rib cage where my heart used to beat.
It wandered off, and fluttered away, as if it had given up all hope on getting better.
Much like my mind is slowly but very surely losing grip, losing faith.
My poor mind isn't getting better.
I sometimes wonder if it can, or if it will, ever.
I'm only hoping,
That hope is a glue strong enough to hold the pieces of my shattered heart together.

You wake,
I sleep,

You dance,
I dream,

Of all the things,
We couldn't be.

Holding hearts,
Walking apart,

I'll hold you,
Like I need to,

I don't mean to,
I don't need you.

i love your rose hair when it's rushed.
maybe it's a crush, maybe i'm just entranced,
but i'm in love with your blush,
and every chance i get to exchange a glance.

from trust to crush,
chances to advances,
your eyes look like stardust,
through my amber tinted glasses.

i hate my shyness,
stuck in my nervous trances.
but i love your inner brightness,
every time we engage in our verbal dances.

from lust to dust,
passion to ashes,
i find myself hopelessly romanced,
by amber tinted glasses.

..     - .... .. -. -.-     ..     .-.. --- ...- .     -.-- --- ..-

Now, I've heard of writer's block.
But is there such a thing as thinker's block?
Creative thoughts and habits have suddenly stopped.
Past securities and emotional bombs have been dropped.
Now all my thoughts have stopped, everything has stopped, as if blocked.

Spotted glints,
of lost luster,
in sealed oyster.
Still I obeyed the tape.
Navigating devoid of footholds,
simply stepped to the next petal, and strode.
Sundered squeaks, creaky hinges, floorboards, still,
there are inklings every other instant.
Uncertain of furls in the sail, wrent the rotten rudder from the stern.
Still there are tints in the stitching,
at the fringes. They billow.
The thievery was unintended.

a ruby motive.
pruriently evolving,
to a lotus tree.

-------------------
your sweet, lips,
forming into sick,
kiss.
your brown eyes insist,
on swallowing me into
your abyss.
this,
bliss
is purely just a glitch
surely can't exist,
but it sorely will be missed.
i know, this:
we clearly can't coexist,
no matter how much we resist
no matter how much we wish,
this rift,
just can't be dismissed.
it's not a simple slip
that can easily be fixed,
it's a partnership apocalypse.
we're living in a counterfeit relationship.

the sequence requires a temporal pretense,
thusly prescribing time to thoughts that i tend to frequently frequent,
learning to liken my notions to pen strokes, ascensive.
harmonizing with the world, instead of agonizing over it,
prosperous from this defective preemptive pension.
remaining aggressively pensive, and peaceably gamboling,
towards a dangerously receptive conscious-less contemplation.
never unrelenting with the questioning, iron-****** in the leavening.
perpending, then comprehending viable praxis and cognation.
flirting with what i initially anticipated, practicing diurnal satiation.

"I'll tell you a secret if you tell me three."
She was lying, of course,
she'd spill the beans.

Crippling ideas and curiosities spark my emotional engine to turn long forgotten gears back into action as I look at pictures of her.
The soft lips softly speaking words that were violently engraved into my thoughts, ironically contrasting the simple meaning, helping me remember and overthink them yet again, months after she ruined me.

torpedo ink, some doubts to sink,
another mouthful, bruising to bethink.
without lexical integrity,
they're solecistic towards pedagogy, amusingly distinct.
basking in the blasphemy, armed to the teeth, blameless and bruised,
putting on another comical skit, guiltlessly bemused.
but don't sit next to me at this ball,
i'm pensively perusing the aisles of protocol.
baffled, more putrid than pellucid,
this hobnobbing appalls me, the exclusively reclusive.
a nuisance shindig, conversations far too allusive.
enough with the palaver, and this shallow vernacular,
far too stupid, far too human, forehead now growing vascular.
make way for me to make hastily for the exit, please,
my apologies, but i'm far too pedantic to revel in this cesspit, jeez.

Recurrent words, boiled your blood,
The same that painted my roses red.
But those flowers no longer grow,
Where your thoughts turned sour.
We parted with seeds left to sow,
In strong minds full of power, no more.
Where the rain turns beautiful,
An unusual question becomes an answer.
In a deeply melancholic cave,
The surface of a stoic puddle, turns dancer.

noting notions as a *** boils over
I'm standing dead still
still in the jig, just clinking
plodding soil as expectants fold in
popped then flicked it
pleasant patina of the mechanism
ceramic pulses in useless scripture
miracle unclipping of a dorsal fin
spectators stack irrelevances in several heaps
haphazard riptides in shared seas of subjection pull dully
slipping through and about subtle reactants
bridling a flood, lock sabotage
nil for a filter, sending catalysts roaring into battle
eating wartime victories and empty advice to be immersed in humility
gifted in living the suffering of the freedom of bearing suffrage
warring wingtips against space edges with abruptness

Black are the eyes,
Brutal are the kin,
Blind are the unwise and
Bruised is the skin

in your sights i felt thunder,
glamorous, humbling, coloring me.
the cadence of your feet, upon icy sheets,
up was a flanking stare, sundering me.
upon winter flowers, a warm blanket, at the apogee,
bundling, a sparkling picnic with kindling.
hungry and spent, still leveling, revelrous,
disguised instincts as misgivings, querulous.
dalliance abiding, an abode-esque semblance,
and many silly kitchen grown sentences.
buttered up, rapt and clasped in exchange of gaze,
laconic at most in lieu of pleading.
twain unsure of meaning,
volition.
twain apologetic,
for teasing in lieu of stealing.
prohibited mission,
reciprocation solicitation.
when left bereft, left shaken.
perhaps cages were staged,
built beside mistakes,
forgiven if forsaken.
one of these days, then.

His mother's gift was not desirable.
All that he really wanted,
Was something soft,
Something short,
Something sweet,
Something that wouldn't make his nose bleed.

time flies by,
when the night sky,
shines so bright,
that my mind's eye goes blind.
i've had far too much wine.

I haven't written a poem all day,
That fact makes me a little sad.
Sometimes, I have less to say,
And I guess that isn't all that bad.

I'm stricken with poet's block,
My heart is sickened with a lack of love.
I can't find anyone, with whom to talk,
And that loneliness is helpful, sort of.

You'll be okay with me,
And I with you.
Set ablaze, burn the sea.
Eyes bright, an indigo hue.
With the crushing weight of nothing,
Fallacies are born,
Setting fire to your words, never bluffing.

we laughed together,
like two birds sharing the same feather.
what a tragedy, majesty displayed,
every time we flew, never in fair weather.

Can eyes boil?
Frothy, glazed gazes,
Steaming into all-seeing clouds.

Minds can melt, I'm sure.
Flowing into tendrils of emotion,
Searching for victims to soothe.

Hearts cannot sing, cannot weep,
With tears forming worlds, purely out of desire,
Creating remembering ebbs, longing for limerence.

Soldiers stand, corralled like sheep,
Peaceful times turn to violence,
Even at night I cannot sleep,
And in this time there is no silence.

Feeling memories of soft voices floating across the arid forests that are my memories of you,
Through the bleak terrain I see you, and your all too elusive smile.
Please come back, I think it'd be wonderfully unhealthy for my state of mind.
It's not often someone says "I love you." without thinking they mean it, but I think I do.
Trance-like remembrances of curly hair and deep thoughts permeate my head,
And I cannot help but wish that life was something that it is not,
Because it is worth the while, through mind's eye staring at your ghost.

The night sky,
Never fades to black,
As many think their souls do,
It just fades to a darker shade of bright blue.

Once connected,
Facets jaded, and
Faces faded.

Once departed,
Always behind, but
Never unkind.

Once forgotten,
Love ended, and
Wounds never tended.

my pillow is smudged with bleach,
from your painted cheeks.

as are my shoulders,
as are my sheets.

my bed reeks of you,
and all the words you speak.

and with every stay, every week,
the scent seems to stick,
and seep deeper while we sleep.

we shared spaces
as limping spectres
with manifold directions
looping ghost based conversations
amidst ***** portholes and boxes of dust
learning to bow to spirits in the dark
reaffirming treaties on yet another trek through projection
witness to recurrent episode arcs of radio subterfuge
server rack haven stroll invoked as a heaven, often,
flashes of weathered piano keys atop enemy remarks
wraiths propping heathens into ornate frames
should've been more careful with the strings
expected effects
dart fletching, inevitably dented, bent,
stains from water specks waging war with hints
splattering countless tints of humane intent
constellations gesturing in the mirror
flecked for the better
riot gear graced in paint
place to face, delayed
stone ship sailing away
similes rippling in the wakes
faceless groves of streetlight cones choking
albeit in the stakes it felt the same
retreating, twin searching for testing
doodled a giraffe without intending to
and threw it away

I'm cutting my hands to bone,
Trying to pick them up,
Shattered memories of heart,
That I never wore upon my sleeve.
Quick, painful glances,
No longer longing stares, stealing.
Lost words, shared thoughts and,
Differing views of past futures,
All coiled into a cold noose,
By which I'll enter your world.

Take this,
Read that,
Eat this,
Buy that,

Orders issued,
Traps laid,
Information seeded,
Robots made,

Clean you up,
Hold you back,
Dull you down,
Here's another Prozac.

Sit back down,
Wait until dismissed.
Don't worry, don't think,
Ignorance is bliss.

a set of intense statuses, given
I thought we had simply glanced it
we are a brush fire, consuming days
screaming in braille with a sense of must
in untangling strewn bangles
addressing unfair symptoms
bearing branches instead of gracefulness
imposed a bit of patience
well met intentions growing swollen and red
in arrangements of parasitic mirrorings
faces of attachment for vagrants
twin retainment, co-invested in a growing trench
indecision growing brittle in a ribbed cage
at least we contest it, burning fiefs of similes
in the kingdom of predetermination
all we seem to spurn are attempts to disarrange it
dancing with the wreckage.

transcend underneath cacophonous birdsong,
not in the flowers or trees,
feeling more at home in this less than urgent morning breeze.

feeling my fingers flutter, hammer to paper,
i penned my own nail.

didn't know until now quite how childhood tapered.
now finding no logic in subscription to faith in the future tense,
whether that happens to be through hopes or through dreams,
i don't seem to bring myself to expect anything.

contrasting prior maxims and beliefs,
i am preemptively eating every single word i speak.

in terms of uncertain worship the question is not whether to;
the cogs bear their teeth when queried via how, what, and why.

naught to seek, adorn in a figment of pseudo nautical chic,
my face betrays, it may misspeak.
i don't need a place to stay,
i don't have a place i seek.
coquetting with myself,
i am ever at my peak.

i want to take you to a babbling creek.
to play hopscotch on lily pads,
and maybe dance through cattails,
to forget what makes us sad.

i'm a weeping willow tree,
a hot cup of black irish tea,
a door-less skeleton key,
i'm an undefined wannabe.
pedantic as can be.