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Oct 2018 · 248
An Apology; Reprise
Mos Oct 2018
She watched the fall leaves wilt as their last form of revolution
The natural human intuition is to seek warmth from loved ones and as the bones beyond flesh shiver there’s a longing for some type of comfort
He felt like a child’s tiptoes in tiled floor, unexpectedly and purely
The type of euphoric revelation you’d never expect
It all comes as a surprise, you see, when nothing is expected of the unknown
When there’s nothing to lose and everything to gain
Until the heart feels too fondly then a weight on your soul leaves you breathing but demands every movement to be agonizing
This blind rage, so to speak, leaves her to be bitter such as the leaves when they fall in autumn’s coming
Cold, harsh, uncertain
The branches on trees look like the veins of his hands before gently caressing hers
A beautiful entanglement
One she hopes will be covered by winters harsh dubiety
Being friends is too hard
Mos Oct 2018
I feel everything and nothing at once and I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. There’s no facade put in place, my heart is on my sleeve and there’s only one thing to say. In eighteen years of living, death has taught me one thing. Time is precious and fickle. She is a force of uncertainty that which everyone uses for clarity, but dear there is no clarity in the unknown.
At a feeble age of eleven I lost a friend who we thought we’d all grow with. At age sixteen I almost lost my own life. And finally, at age eighteen my family was told my mother may have five years left.
Time is a cruel placebo effect. She waits for no one and whilst one may think the time isn’t now but maybe in the future, you have to realize there may not be a future.
What happens before now doesn’t exist. It does not exist in our reality. It will never exist until it happens but then the present becomes the past. Why wait for something you want?
Why say goodbye to something you don’t want to lose?
Jul 2018 · 340
Reflections
Mos Jul 2018
Today I made dinner for my family and there was a huge scurry to rush to the hospital because someone got an alarming call and I wasn’t told what it was about.
But there were lots of dishes left over.
Usually my grandfather is the one who does them because he thought ketchup was a viable replacement for tomato paste and my family is known for our excellent cooking. He left to the hospital before anyone else so I decided to do the dishes because they were there. My grandma noticed before she left and said I was a lot like my grandfather.
I never really thought of it before but I suppose we are a lot alike. He used to be energetic and full of life before being drafted to be a medic for the military. He’s now a lot quieter but very witty. Tired all the time.
Once in awhile he talks a lot and tells stories and cracks jokes. He’s the most humble person I know, too. He worked on a Spacex for NASA but you’d never know if you didn’t ask.
He’s been through a lot of bad things in his life but it doesn’t /show/. If you see him he just look like an average old man but he has a very gentle soul. Even though he doesn’t seem phased he cares deeply. His natural instinct is to take care of everyone.
The difference between us is he’s held on dearly to his faith. I don’t know how to do that with my god. I’m very angry and tired and want to be as gentle as him.
But it touched my heart to hear that I resemble even a small light of him.
Stream of consciousness
Jun 2018 · 426
OCD
Mos Jun 2018
OCD
The thing about loving and OCD is that every tree in the woods has your name carved into its bark
Every attempt is misspelt perfectly in calligraphy
You’re the most beautiful mistake I have made
Note: Never take a nature walk again
Remembering to forget you is an impossible phenomenon
Like riding a bike
Except I never learned how to ride a bike
But I do know how to breathe
Unless I think about you then suddenly my lungs collapse
You were my oxygen, or a necessity if you prefer
And my therapist told me getting some fresh air would be therapeutic
Like riding a bike in the woods
The only problem with this serenity is you took my oxygen away from me
You are in everything I once breathed
Not to mention I never learned how to ride a bike
And every tree has your name engraved
An everlasting reminder of the beauty in toxicity
I can’t remember who I wrote this for
The thought is applicable to myself now
Jun 2018 · 2.8k
Facade
Mos Jun 2018
The tangible entity of consciousness is fleeting
Scene:
A elegant party but not quite extravagant
Clinking wine glasses echo through transparent walls
Twenty-two hundred lulls over the city like that of a shadow
This isn’t an ungodly hour nor is this a typical night
It starts when She enters in a red gown that elongates her figure
A pianist smirks in the corner — a grin that’s almost sinister
The clinking of wine glasses abruptly stops when its replacement of grim notes fills the glass house
The attendants still seem cheerful
(How peculiar?)
A stranger pulls her into a waltz but his eyes look hauntingly familiar
Unbenounced to her, He too dances with a stranger
Both on separate sides of the glass room
Both dancing with the unknown
Yet each pair seems to recognize some prominent feature
Nostalgic for what has never been
(How do you preserve a memory in reality?)
Through the glass house mirrors sit in obscure angles
One could see that within each reflection He and She were projected into the other room
Each glance towards the mirrors posed no questions
For both pairs seemed identical
Now their lives may have been content in accepting this dance with a “stranger” I suppose
But that was not the plan of this party
For guests grew tired of sipping on Beaujolais and listening to solem tunes
The pianist presented a different song, more lively yet equally eerie
Their feet paced with the new rhythm which called for a spin
(An act as dramatic as such was only proper for the scene)
With a grand gesture She turns, finally seeing the glass barriers
And for the first time that night He and She were face to face
A perfect dilemma to entertain an audience
In a frenzy She tried to speak
“I love you”
“I love you”
“I love you”
But each plea for affection deemed futile
For the grin on His face became that of the pianist
Her emotions were a downward spiral of gray shaded confusion
And with a sinister laugh He (or he) smashed the glass, shredding all source of reality
He was the hallucinogen and She was angry at him for making Her feel
And each guest cheered “bravo” demanding an encore
But this tragedy, dear friends, has come to the end
She’ll never know how the stars look where he is
(Is such a loss truly a loss?)
This poem is for two people
Mos May 2018
Number One: Home
Your arms became the foundation for a home I took refuge in. Every lonesome night that I’d lay awake counting down the seconds until sunrise was seemingly erased by your comforting voice whispering soft lullabies; like the familiar creeks of an old home. Decorations of your soul spill out onto the coffee-stained carpets giving it that extra hint of personality. Over time those marks became less like stains and more like abstract art shown to us who are too sad to look up. I remember it all vividly, from the dazzling smile to the mole hidden underneath your left ear. Every singular detail noted has been engraved in my heart. We lay still on lazy days and I read what your lips have to say; the stories in your mind become my favorite book in our library. I lay curled in your arms through passing time feeling your old bones shift beneath the surface. You are the embodiment of a home a desperately long for because when we are forever and a day away my heart yearns for your scent and familiar dents. It battles homesickness with every passing moment we are not together. Every single last part of your body has become my safe haven in which I have come to love and cherish. My home is you.
for Him
Mar 2018 · 333
Relapse
Mos Mar 2018
You brought up the past by digging up my grave
And as the broken sleep tonight
I’ll remember vividly the excruciating pain of your touch
Like knives leaving a whisper, a secret no longer kept
And I fall further and further
Back to relapsing agony
Feb 2018 · 333
Til Death
Mos Feb 2018
Conversing with Death herself humbled me
Scene:
There’s a tranquil garden in my dreams
An endless array of beauty
Something like a rainbow in the distance
But not quite, there are a few colors missing
Maybe that’s just my eyes

You never notice the beauty within the fingertips of a loved one
Like a scene from a Wes Anderson film
Beautiful in every context created by the human emotion

Mother I’m going to be alright
“You’re dying”
Mother I’m going to be alright

A bed of amaryllis petals lay the ground to which I sleep
But Death
She seemed to say something like a whisper
“Not today, child”
Mother I’m going to be alright

And passing suns illuminate my fingertips
The veins of my body blue like the vast sea
A never-ending scene of ethereal elegance
And a steady heartbeat
Mother I’m going to be alright
From a near death experience
Jan 2018 · 382
Ether
Mos Jan 2018
There was a woman who sat alone
Pondering whether or not she will fill anyone
Would each breath she takes becomes anew to another?
The glass now becomes half empty, as a pessimist would see
For fulfillment is unachieved wholly by the dependant party
There was a woman who sat alone
Trying to morph her skin to fit the vase for his flowers
An exquisite art piece made for a girl
Quite younger and prettier than her
“I’ll be anything”  
“I’ll be anyone”
As long as the taste of love falls from his lips to hers
But you can’t ever look past yourself, not with the way you felt
There was a woman who sat alone
Pondering whether or not she will fill anyone
And with that a man sat next to her
Glass half full
Now this isn’t a story of romance, or desire
Rather the pursuit of self happiness
For the sun already showed itself through each others beings
But together they became a galaxy
We aren’t giving up until we’re free
We aren’t giving up until we’re free
Tis not a dream like sleep,
You’re a tangible human in an endeavor to live
And I, in an endeavor to live alongside you
“It’s a beautiful sight to see you alive”
Mos Jan 2018
It was exactly a year ago today when the quantum theory became clear
You and I, eons away, yet still interconnected by something
Something inexplicably powerful it felt as if we were born from the same star
It was tonight when I started to fall asleep on skype while you edited your music
Crackling on synthetic piano voices singing melancholy dreams
But it was now when you spoke words of love
The only time I felt true, pure euphoria
And if I thought back then, if I really believed you
Maybe things would be different

Your voice slowly dissipated from my memory, as did your face
Nothing more than a stranger passing by with a red string attached to our fingers
Empty promises long forgotten
Or cared for, if you rather

I know you told me to wait
But for what am I waiting?
For what am I pondering during sleepless nights
How to forgive the abrupt abandonment?
Back a year ago tonight
If I would have believed you when you said you loved me
Maybe moving back home wouldn’t feel like isolation, rather a new beginning

But for now, if by chance
We execute a correspondence on the streets of Amsterdam
Memories will seem as murky as the weather
Cold, harsh
Maybe even unrecognizable
January and February will never be the same
Jan 2018 · 492
Elegy
Mos Jan 2018
I fell asleep in your arms again today
It was a grave of roots hugging my decaying body
And there was peace within your heartbeat
A reminder that death does not mean the end
Rather a beginning to solitude
I’m sorry
I love you
Mos Jan 2018
Small waves break upon my feet, a kiss from the shore
And even though we're roughly 1122 miles away from each other
Unable to speak consistently
You are still in everything that I see
From the small kiss of the shore to the soft breeze that messes my hair
You are in every laughter spilt from my mouth
and as I look at the stars one last time tonight I can point out the exact location of Mars
In some odd way you are in the light it shines
Ever protruding in the darkness
Ever present whether near or far
Our love lasting a thousand lifetimes
Although we are thousands of miles from each others warm embrace
I still feel you in my heart
and wherever your heart lies
or wherever some reminder of you is present
That is my home, my home is you
Mos Jan 2018
The resentment against tempestuous beings no longer humble me
For I myself have become self deprecating
A suicide note long past signed
Yet it remains caught between my love letters
There doesn't seem to be a difference between them
My soul was sold to keep you, my old love
You gave me a smile in exchange for my tears
Agonizing weeks of backwards self recovery
Each breakdown worse than the last
I gave you my heart when it almost lost its rhythm
Yet that still wasn't enough

The resentment against tempestuous beings no longer humble me
For this jealousy of the world seems to engulf my being
And I lay on a crucifix with your name engraved in my spine
Dec 2017 · 161
Lovely Stranger
Mos Dec 2017
Within the isolating winds of winter the gardener somehow manages to uproot the flowers. There's a garden now, so massive with life blossoming from each corner. While I am merely a little ant on an endeavor through the exquisite environment, you are the garden in which I roam. The insides of you are beautiful.
Mos Nov 2017
You exist in the loose space between my eyelids
Appearing in dreams more often than sometimes
A transient bond no longer present
The distance between oceans seemed to fold over themselves
At least, until you were gone
Now the space from me to you feels like a universe
Almost as if you are  nonexisting
Nothing more than a figment of imagination
A transparent being within a fever dream
But the world goes on, doesn’t it?
Your voice is merely particles of waves
A silence symphony
An elegy like something has died
Nov 2017 · 396
I Felt Like New
Mos Nov 2017
The wooden floorboards no longer speak
Dust no longer resides in the air; a cleaner breath to breath
Though cracks still remain as a reminisce of the past
A past that no longer exists, not really
The old swing on the old front porch still sways
Where I used to sit and think alone

This isolated path of self discovery
It came to an end not too long ago
My house was rearranged
Books placed neatly on the shelves
Furniture were placed in an order peculiar to me

I’d call this feeling exhilarance
Or serendipity if you prefer

You moved into my hollowed walls
As if spring came for a second time
Everything is renewed, my dear
You made this house my home
old emotions for one who almost caused my death
Nov 2017 · 480
Seasonal Depression
Mos Nov 2017
I am a hollowed out tree during mid winter’s rage; scrawny and unappealing. My branches quiver and shake from the anxiety of life's passing. They speak amongst themselves “It’s so much prettier when alive.”
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry my bones are cracked and worn. One gentle touch and they snap because past winters have left me fragile. I’m sorry my silence is harsh and eerie. I’ve grown under the rule “speak only when spoken to” and no one really cares to stop and really talk. It doesn’t matter though. One gust of wind from another's mouth causes me to topple down, for I’m fearful of screaming rage.
I’m sorry I cannot provide beauty for your longing eyes to gaze upon anymore. I never asked for darkness’ cold embrace, but it’s the only comfort I know.
I’m sorry.
for my father and mother
Nov 2017 · 537
King Midas
Mos Nov 2017
Tell me how to pull the weeds out of my scalp
Because spring tried to come with the company of flowers
The company of something new and better
But I let them wilt and rot within my flesh and bones

Death stormed in with an unforgiving glare
As winter quickly bombarded the land
The weeds and flowers had died in my hands
Nothing is salvageable
Everything beautiful dies
Where is the life I long to see?
i dont feel worth the love they try to give
Nov 2017 · 298
Isolation
Mos Nov 2017
Most days I want to disappear into oblivion
I'll let my existence reside
in the corner of the classroom
Where no one seems to notice
and there will be peace
Peace and quiet
Nov 2017 · 665
Love Isn't Enough
Mos Nov 2017
Looking back my love letters sound a lot like suicide notes. Sometimes, like tonight, I feel as if no one can love me. Maybe that is okay.
My doctor wanted to send me to an all girls medical school so I can live to my full potential. It hurts, because I want to love and love and love.
But my full potential isn't loving or being loved, is it?
a discussion with my doctor
Sep 2017 · 386
Self Obliteration
Mos Sep 2017
And maybe I just need some sort of company or peace
Because the trees are shouting a ballad of self misery, but I'm the one who wrote it
Choosing isolation like it was offering a grant to self discovery
Well, dear, I still don't know who i'm supposed to be
Sep 2017 · 451
Identity Crisis
Mos Sep 2017
Tell me who I'm meant to be
Because as of now I'm just a moth drawn to light
A moth drawn to the golden glow of their aura
An inspiration that lies somewhere between the gods i don't believe in and the unattainable sensation of perfection
This fixation on beauty ever out of reach
To be the soft crackle on vinyl
Or a warm smile to a stranger
What is my place in this barren world?
The eerie glowing of the moon or the golden rays of the sun shining in the bedroom of your loved one
Tell me who i'm meant to be because the old me is dead and the new me hasn't been born yet
Jul 2017 · 439
An Ode to Long Distance
Mos Jul 2017
His existence lies somewhere between the gods I could never believe in and the cold side of the bed
A misshapen figure remains dipped where he once laid
An ode to love
An ode forgotten from when we talked last
My heart no longer yearns for his love
My body no longer yearns for his touch
But on lonely nights like these
When 5 am calls with the birds echoing
and exhaustion bombards my being
Like a hollowed out skeleton
Bones ever quaking
I roll to the cold side of the bed
and yearn for his warmth
Jul 2017 · 440
Dear Father,
Mos Jul 2017
Remember when i was young?
Left alone in the night
Rain pattering upon the rooftops
I screamed against the wind
"Oh god, if you exist give me some sort of comfort"
My protector is drowned in hard liquor
Angry at the world
And to this day
I can hear your shouts of rage in the thunder
And to this day
our malevolence is traumatizing
I cant sleep without some sort of recollection of your hands around my throat
A makeshift noose
You were so desperate to make me your dream daughter
that you were willing to **** the one you already had
I know father
I was formed of false love
A spitting image of my mother
Everything you hate
and wish to give back to hell
I know father
You cant force love upon the waste of breath you see me as
Your constant reminder that you were never good enough
My wasted life is spent learning more on how to forgive myself for ever loving you
Than how to forgive you for ever hating me
Jul 2017 · 345
As We Grew Apart
Mos Jul 2017
The girl I used to love no longer resides within you. Sometimes I believe that is a good thing, but other times sorrow makes my chest collapse. You were not the sun, but a moon glowing due to false light. the false light I put you in. The you I know now hides behind a mask of false smiles, false compassion. "Your behavior has become increasingly vexatious", I told you last. Your mask was being sewn onto your face and I don't know who the real you is anymore. The only answer is that we both grew and changed, but now I'm happy to say we grew apart.
for who no longer exists to me
Feb 2017 · 1.8k
Hospice
Mos Feb 2017
The first night I entered you greeted me with a smile
I was shaking and tired from staying three hours in the ER
You asked me what was wrong and I told you that I was fixing my posture,
but we both know that wasn't true
The bugs were crawling in my skin
you could see it too
That first night you gave me my medicine and told me sweet dreams
Not too long later I woke up screaming
The bugs ate my brain, my limbs wouldn't move
You came in and calmed me until the parasites no longer grew

The next evening you greeted me with a smile
I greeted you with tears
I couldn't breathe and didn't want to be here
You told me it was for my own safety and I told you no, here in general
Existing was too agonizing
My soul doesn't have a place in this
barren world
You told me I spoke poetry and asked me if I wrote
so I showed you my secrets
And the silence spread on for eons
As grew my anxiety
Finally you said "you have a gift"
I told you "no I have depression"
Later that night you gave me a stuffed owl and told me happy birthday
That was the first night the bugs kept still

Evening came once again and you greeted me with a smile
I greeted you with an exasperated sigh
You looked at the MMPI test and knew exactly what I meant
I fixed my posture
You knew the bugs were squirming again
I told you they're judging me for the answers that I put
You said it's my mental illness
It's not a part of me
but I refused to believe
Later that night I spilled out my anxiety
and told you the world hated me for the bugs that I carry
There's a leech in my heart and it sinks into anyone who cares
You said I was an inspiration for anyone who's bugs they let die
because even they deserve life too
so I named my leech Hope  

My last night you greeted me with a smile
I greeted you with a parting letter
We sat in the room and you told me not to fear the bugs in my skin
It was a symbolism of thriving life
so I told you about Hope in my heart
You gave me a hug and we joined the others for cards
A game was played and you showed us a cool trick
Laughter filled the room
Our depression was dismissed
and that was the first time I believed in magic
so that was the name of the parasite in my brain
things are getting bad again
Feb 2017 · 462
The Unlikeliness of Man
Mos Feb 2017
Hidden
power
does not
keep
quiet
when
grief and sorrow
reveal
danger.
a blackout poem
Feb 2017 · 323
Oliver
Mos Feb 2017
Every day I am told to grow up
Implying they mean to make an immortal child die
As if growing up gives comprehension
on why the sun reflects onto the moon
As taught by Oliver
My child eyes see a universe within the sky
People of self-same age do not fathom
that maturity is not measured in age
Rather a gathering of self-confident knowledge
and spirituality

My angel knew these traits
long before the birth of his being
A naturally wise soul
In a community of people
stuck in an endeavor
to learn purity

Whilst the physical entity of Oliver
is not within physical reach
all must remember
immortal children
with child eyes
never die
for my friend Oliver who died February 16th, 2012
i love you Oliver
Feb 2017 · 296
The Art of Surface Value
Mos Feb 2017
Today I filled a swimming pool with my tears and understood why my depth was only eight feet. I am bounded by this wall called safety and set with rules and regulations on how to use my goods correctly. No matter how many times the rules are intentionally broken the walls still provided boundaries.
Today I filled a swimming pool with my tears and understood why oceans scared the **** out of me. They went on for seemingly forever, engulfing my tears into an endless sea of melancholy. There were no safety barriers added, leaving room for depth and the ability to sink into parts of myself I was too scared to dive in for.
Today I attempted being an ocean by overflowing a swimming pool with my tears and ended up drowning myself instead.
Feb 2017 · 615
La Douler Exquisite
Mos Feb 2017
The balance of love shows itself in the form of a familiar triangle
You know, the one we were examining before we tried to cut the heartstrings connecting us.
I pointed to the centre– explaining how it was impossible to reach the balance point;
It felt like empty love, but now what?
We are attached by the bond of souls and whether or not the balance of love is ever achieved it's still the most exquisite happiness I have ever felt

— The End —