beneath tonight's magnificent
obsidian veil
i can finally see beyond all this constant cognitive dissonance
the way the sky bends around me
and only me
it's endlessness merges with time and emptiness like an inebriated driver changing lanes without looking

smooth as ****
but only to the one behind the wheel

and since there were no injuries
we'll say they flow together beautifully like you and i once did
only there were injuries
and we are not beautiful

not anymore

underneath the darkest, most far away place, and as strange as this will sound, i've never felt such comfort
i've finally found comfort

thank you for ******* me
in so many different ways.
my eyes are forever widened,
and my words cannot convey.
but one day i'll forgive you
for this "no vacancy" sign on my chest.
until then i'll just remain grateful,
my heart is no longer yours to ******.

I used to whisper "I love you"
the moment I knew
you were sound asleep.
No sooner, no later.
That way when you didn't say it back
I at least had somewhat of a logical explanation as to why.
One night I grew anxious, and said it
a little too soon.
And on that night, you showed me how good you were at fake sleeping.

Free
        *Time
                  Is                      ­                                                        
                      a                                       ­                              -- like mine
                          Dreaded                        ­                           --
                                           Thing                                    --
                   ­                                    for                           --
                                                              ­ a                   --
                                                              ­      Mind   --

my thoughts are well endowed
equipped with maliciousness
and if i share them with you
it's like giving you the gun

so i'll just wither away in silence

you lay in bed
and transfix your eyes on any old thing
this is as easy as life gets

they find the ceiling fan
it isn't on, but it's doing just the same as you
this is good, right?

you ponder on things
that are so far gone
like the last time you hugged your brother
or the last time you wrote him a letter
and never sent it out
downward spiral

you become lost; cradled by longevity
but in an unsettling way
you think about how life is too drawn out
to do this everyday
this mindset is torture

atrocious clouds, unimpeded
they encompass your brain
and an unwelcome curious side
consumes you
*i wonder what death is like?

much like everything else in life

*i will not finish this poem