contemplations of an angsty agnostic
otherwise known as the subtitle to my lengthy biopic
or the fumbling intellectual journey
the endless search to find
the divine reality behind,
to trace, pinpoint exactly what lies
at the center of the cosmos
at the crucified heart of all humankind
some days i feel there is no God
no chance of a higher power
i'm resigned to spewing cliched aphorisms as nihilistic as Schopenhauer
fragmented theories and meditations on life
consuming my thoughts and flooding my mind
ideas tessellate and twist as i'm crumbling, stumbling to try and make sense of all this
i find
the existential condition that burdens the shoulders of the wonder filled kids
from the blinkered blues of the beats
to the hopeful hedonism of the hippies
and the time tick ticks
regardless of the passing ecstasy of our dream-filled kicks
i feel there must be something more than this.
absurdity has the tendency to consume the very core of me
ultimately, does that not make me more free?
like Sisyphus, i stagnate
repetitive routines threaten to enchain me
but i believe i know the path i'm on
and i have to know it will save me
we live in times
of overwhelming, reeling uncertainty
is it true that one day the gleaming, spinning light will find me?

when i hear that song
i see your arms around his neck
i see you laughing and him smiling back
i remember the jealousy that burned inside
as i wondered why i couldn't make you laugh like that anymore.

when i hear that song
i remember the nights i spent in a frenzy
trying to stop myself from falling apart
as you reassured me everything was fine
when i knew you were spouting words to him
those three words
strictly reserved for lovers
that were once strictly reserved for you and me.

when i hear that song
i remember your voice
telling me 'we're just friends'
and all i heard was still static
and the beat that skipped in my hollow chest
and my bones one by one collapsing

when i hear that song
i think of you
and when i hear that song
i can't help but think of him

i had dreams of meeting outer space
running laps around the rings
alien murmurs like whispered sweet nothings
snorting cosmic dust
leads to
eyes that grow like eclipses
starlight sticking to my skin
initials carved in moon rocks
hurled through the stars like a telegraph service
it wasn't until i met you
that i felt the gravitational pull
it was you holding me to the earth
i didn't mind
suddenly space felt empty
it was small and you were vast
i pulled my head out of the clouds
and laid it on your chest
your eyes shone with the glitter of the cosmos
putting the twinkling stars to shame
black holes were filled
in me and in the universe
i stopped yearning for the undisturbed quiet
the minute i heard your heartbeat
through thin fabric and skin
and as cold as it was above the atmosphere
it was no comparison to the cold felt
when your body was away from mine
similar to how the moon would feel
should the sun ever cease to shine on it
the chill of unprepared absence
you became the center point
a bouquet of warmth and light
and life on earth
without you
was no longer possible


                                                      ­        *smndi

Welcomed into the deadzone of meaningless averted eyes,
Nothing but uncomfortable seats,
And an ease to breathe in all the toxins you want,

Tongue-tied for interests,
Nothing to share,
So we stare at our hands,
And I notice something in mine,

They're growing and,
The honesty of work is dying them grey,
And where once I thought of them wasting away,

I find pride in my replacability,
The hollowness of my labour,
I'm glad for these things because they highlight the pen,
Which ink stained my hands as I wrestled with it,
In an eternal battle I have with myself,

So i'm glad to be fleeting,
A relief to myself

take pictures. walk to the drug store on a crisp summer night
and buy one of those old cheap cameras. carry it like you would a child.
when you smile, genuinely, take a photo. when you feel that warm touch of the sun on your face
and the wind tangling your hair into knots, take a photo. every moment
is so precious. keep these pictures until you are seventy three
and barely remember the names of the faces you once pressed your lips to.
keep them until "film" is an unknown word.

when love is coarsing fast through your veins,
wrap your hands around the source. squeeze tighter, don't stifle your breath. don't let
your words drop like anchors down your throat. don't let the world tell you
that you're not enough. love is love. it is not a hand on your thighs or the shaking afterwards.
it is not purchased in pink giftwrap. it is whatever you make it. and even though
it may not last forever, you can only pretend that
this will be the last time you ever touch. love infinitely and exhaustively.

never let anyone's opinions or decisions
put a halt to the pursuit of your own happiness. you
are the creator of this life that you own. you were born with so much potential and so much passion
that it floods out of you like rainwater. destroy the drought. you are free to be anything
you could ever dream of, and more. there are always second chances; every moment
you feel is a failiure is only a lesson in a perilous disguise. if you are sad,
do not drown yourself in your own despair. do not douse yourself
in liquor. do not keep secrets packed away in dimly lit corners. someone loves you.
I love you. there is hope in even the places that seem forlorn.

above all else, live every day as if it is your only.
take chances.
take chances.
take chances.
never pass up on an opprotunity due to fear. you may
slip up and make a faulty choice. but in the end, your heaviest regrets
will be not getting into that car. not kissing the girl with the beautiful blonde hair.
not hugging someone goodbye, or calling them to tell them you love them in the peak of morning.
every second is more precious than money can label.
stop dragging yourself from the grasp of your sheets when you wake with a sigh- rise even earlier
to see the lavender sky and smile because you're alive and every single **** day
is a novel anxiously awaiting to be scribbled down. grab his hand
and squeeze it tighter. hold her hips and memorize their shape. never let go. ask questions.
push yourself. live.

It rolls past a snake in the night,
Steel wheels rattling along the rails,
Face bathed in flashing lights,
Looking down lit from above,
I see my own eyes reflect among them,
Travelling silent together through the dark,

Count the carriages then it's gone,
I'm left alone as it thunders on

**** the silent moon,
and all it's stark white beauty,
and the thundering ghost train's,
crescendoing symphonies,

I am ever so angry,
At the effortless night,
for try, try,
and try as I might,
I will never be quite as still as the moon,
all of my lines well end far too soon,
and all will be lost to the effortless night