the soul
does not
rest comfortably
until
they have completed
their goals
or
part with a loved
one

guest house
of the
moon,
please
take care
of the one
who departed
from me
who i
cherish
so

sitting
in my room,
phone in hand,
thoughts
all over
the *******
place

typing
then clicking
the go
button
to put out
whatever
is in my mind
at this
very moment
to the world

what the hell
it'll be
better
(i guess)
when i finally
get
some sleep

in the midst
of it all
despite the
foundation
being of
toxic ground

a flower
found its way
to bloom
after plentiful
struggles

i am
that flower

the concept
of an afterlife
qualified
only for
the most
holy of holies
is what scares
me
the most.

what if
i've been
good
my whole life,
but one part
of my heart
makes my
entry
rejected?

so what if
i'm gay?

at least
i'm not
as immoral
and hypocritic
as
you.

presence
of mind,
no longer
there.

neither
is the will to
give all
of my
best,

nor the
time to
know
how to
let it
out.

i'm just
barely
surviving.

it's a mess of
our hair strands
being tangled
and our breaths being
matched by its
timing

the closeness
of our lips
yearning to
feel the other's
desire

our hands
being entwined
like puzzle pieces
that were meant
to be

oh, how lucky
i am
to be me