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Vitis Lio Jan 2014
I ramble.
That is what I do
How I talk
How I think
A long line
Of thoughts, branching out
Jumping from one place
To another, before
Returning to my main route,
Or else losing themselves,
Completely
In the sea of my mind.
I like it this way
I lie to myself
It makes life more interesting
I convince myself,
And I'm a pretty good lair,
So I believe
And live
On, with this
Rambling life
And rambling goal
And rambling mind.
Vitis Lio Jan 2014
I lie in bed,
In my own filth
I haven't cleaned
My bedroom in ages.
It's filled with scattered
Books, ***** cloth and
Worthless, abandoned pages.

I kept it up to humane standards
As long as I'd visitors once a week,
But now that I see them so scarcely
My room has begun to reek.

I only ever do the right thing
When someone else is watching
Only when I want their good opinion
Will you see me washing
Dishes
In the sink.

(I never do
The ***** dishes
Unless I have someone
To impress.)
I need to tidy my room. I need to see my friends. I need to sleep.
Vitis Lio Jan 2014
I am a person
(I am?)
Of fleeting absolutes
And I am aware
(Are you?)
Of my faults.

I am aware
(Yes?)
Every hour of
Every day and I carry
(What?)
That burden always.

I am sure
(Positive?)
I chose right
(Did you now?
Did you really?)
SHUT UP.
Please?

I am aware of my faults
And I carry them constantly,
Forever reminded
By you.
I'm denying who this is about.
Vitis Lio Jan 2014
Everything hurts more
In winter.

My knuckles,
As they rap on the door
Waiting to be accepted
In.

My fingers,
As they pluck at strings
Made of hope and light
And guts.

I find people
More beautiful
In winter.

The rosy cheeks
Against pale complexions,
The shining eyes
And windswept hair.

The smile of relief on their faces,
As they enter the warmth
Of our mutual home.

And maybe,
The two are connected;
The raw knuckles and
Blistering fingers
Are compensated
By the radiating smiles.

And maybe,
The two are connected;
Stuck at home,
I crave company.

Beautiful,
Hurting,
Human company.
Vitis Lio Jan 2014
Raw
But it hurts, that and
My sore throat - Raw
From transporting the substances
I cough out of my lungs.

The pain and the phlegm
All pass through it
The lungs inflicting their pain
Upwards into my head.

The last spot of sanity
Clear and calculating
Filling up with everything
My lungs cannot handle.

Threatening to explode,
They can't take it anymore
Transport it into tears
Only to seep back inside.

My pain is raw
From all this time
I didn't do anything
About it.
"Symptoms?"
"I told you I don't want to talk about it."
Vitis Lio Jan 2014
My lungs are filled
With them,
And they won't let
Me breath.

The further away
They try to get
The more they press
On the soft sides
Of my breathing organs.

And I must find
Other ways,
To live without
My breath.

Every day it gets
Worse and worse
And I start to wonder
If it's all worth all
These tiny people in my chest.

They wonder around
Quite aimlessly
And every footstep
Hurts.

But I don't want them to go
I want them to stay
I want it to go
I want them to stay
I want them to never go away.

But my lungs
Will not be able
To hold on
Forever.
For The Herd.
Vitis Lio Jan 2014
I feel like
He used to understand.
But understand that
He can never understand me fully.

I needed him,
At that moment, to understand.
But understood,
That he just couldn't.

And I would accept that
If I didn't know he could.

That time,
When the world caved in on me,
He understood perfectly,
Just from my heaving sobs
Over the phone.

I understand,
He cannot understand,
And therefore cannot be mad at him.

But I know
That he can,
And therefore crave his understanding.

This is what they call faith.

I understand,
He cannot understand,
But knowing he did,
Is what hurts the most.
For L.M.
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