I keep throwing gasoline on my already burning problems.

I'm addicted to the pain.

I sometimes circle around again
Longing, growing
My story is old
And cold

I’m a gravity accident
We all fall down
Collected star-dust
Diamond, coal, rust

Periodicity reciprocity
Gravely glancing sunward
Circle around
Then outward bound

Do you bleed when you write?
When your fingertips
get sore and your muscles
get tight
Do you bleed?
From your heart?
With each beat comes a new
line
and you hope that it sounds like something
that doesn't quite rhyme
But it sounds good in time.
It'll sound good in time.
Just keep writing.


Keep bleeding.

There are places that welcome
others bid me keep away
I regard them as points of time
remnants of seasons or just a day--

wherever I wander, in weather rough or calm
'happy arrival' I could never say*
forbidden places hold dark secrets--the sublime
belongs only to the heart which defies moral decay.

all the pills I took
make my thoughts blur,
mind is fuzzy.

i can barely stand,
the world is like
a rocking ship.

swaying back and forth
as the sea tosses me
between the waves.

is my head still between my shoulders?
patting where it should be
all I feel is air.

where has my mind gone?
to the clouds
far from ground.

i lost it
i don’t know
where I could be.

Goodbyes often feel like reaching the last page of the book and you don't know if you should finish it or leave it unfinished.

You see, leaving is the hardest ******* thing to do, until you leave. So, here's my step by step guide to say goodbye:

Step 1: When she reaches for your lungs to breathe the air you've been breathing, hold her hands and keep them on the bed of roses you've been holding by the thorns and tell her, fall has arrived.

Step 2: When she runs her fingers through your hair and reaches for your lips, stop her and show her the stubbed cigarette buds on your chest that have turned your body into smoke and tell her, you are tired of being held captive between her fingers and lips.

Step 3: When she rests her head on your lap and looks at you with hope, close her eyes and show her the cots that are testament to the dreams you weaved for each other and tell her, you don't want to dream again.

Step 4: When she makes your arm the pillow of her bed, show her the sunflower seeds you painted on your skin that blossom everytime they see her face and tell her, the sun doesn't shine the way it used to.

Step 5: When she takes your hand in her hands and brews tea in the same *** that you built as a testament to your love, show her the letters you wrote on your skin and tell her, they speak freedom.

Step 6: And after you do as I said, remember to kiss her forehead, bid her goodbye, and tell her, it was worth loving her.