Reality is vanquished
by the utter darkness.
The world is constantly
shifting--a pendulum
swinging across the sky.

But with no evidence,
this phenomenon can't claim you.
It remains obstinately
theoretical and the fugue
triumphs.

Only landing
can prove you ever
took off.

Walk close the seasons, near the heart
summer fields, grasses green - tall to hide behind, the coming winter
only laugh as dancing maples change, piled high - leaves on fire
Winds of gray waves fill the air
children skate
frozen ponds give way
to spring - the ice
to trickle

My heart is a cracked egg spilling into my lungs,
wrapping around my organs.
Dripping,
suffocating,
drowning.
Filling my toes, feet, calves, thighs.
Clogging my capillaries
until I cannot breathe.
Until it bursts its banks
and abounds the bathroom tiles.

this year*:

the one person i thought was my soulmate left my life without so much as one word

i fell out of love with the first girl i fell in love with

i was reunited with someone i hoped would be my new mother

i was repeatedly disappointed

i met the most amazing friend i only ever imagined having

i quit my job

i got a new job

i fell in love with a pathological liar

i went to my grandfather's funeral

i was lied to by the pathological liar (surprise!)

i was there for her when she went to detox

i was there for her when she relapsed

i had a rather epiphanic moment where i was brought to inexplicable sobs and repeated screams  on my knees saying "help me" in desperate hopes of being heard by some unknowable God

i quit the new job and got hired back at the old one

i lost trust in all humans, including myself

i moved in with my dad

i got to know the depths of fragility

i was manipulated and in turn, i manipulated

i had random panic attacks

i met Regina Spektor

i wrote poems

i wrote songs

i painted

i read books

i drank a lot of coffee

i smoked many cigarettes

i laughed less

i cried less

i felt less

i denied anti-depressants

i worked on letting go of unhealthy persons, including my mother

which lead to learning the repetitive lesson that overnight success does not exist

i booked a flight to Mississippi

i learned how to be alone without being lonely

i became even more infatuated with the moon

i wanted to die,

i'm still alive.

i made mistakes,

i learned from them.

this year has been a whirlwind, a teenage drama gone half right topped with a questionable ending

2013, here i come.

The smolder's flame it fills the room
And I am mixed inside the fume
Not white but gray I cannot see
The world around, in front of me
As I become unweighted scents
The gravity will recompense
All that's stored within the fix
And painted using candle wicks
Flicker bright then fade to dark
I'm waiting for the slightest spark
I'll ask the sun to give me heat
That my cold heart may start to beat
For when I wake from hazy sleep
The dried up ice will melt to seep
I long to walk as I once did
Through heavy smoke that keeps things hid
So pass away, oh dying times
My soul found rest outside your lines

Reigning king,
Raining blood;
End of times,
Returning floods.

Electric noose,
Diviner's code;
Out with the in and out with the old.

Go back to the start of anything new;
A cycle of dreams that never come true.

I'm stuck with the mess that you've made for me.
I'm stuck with this wreck of filth and greed.
I've tried my best to fix this tired and broken bed,
But as it is, I'll be freer when I'm dead.

Inspiring art,
Inspiring fraud.
Long live the pirates, and death to your god.

The cycle of life spins again,
But where will you be when they open-up your head?

I'm stuck in this nest that you've made for me.
I'm stuck with this wreck of filth and greed.
I've tried my best to fix this tired and broken bed,
But as it is, I'll be freer when I'm dead.

Designing dreams,
Designer drugs;
An illusive freedom plagued with bugs.

What will be left when you die?
Only the carnage; no memories left behind.

I'm stuck in this noose that you've tied for me.
I'm stuck with this wreck of filth and greed.
I've tried my best to fix this tired and broken bed,
But as it is, I'll be freer when I'm dead.

A barbaric thing, winter’s price
The crude symphony of blood and ice
Through cataract windshields
Behold barren fields
In the grip of evening’s womb
Listen for the hangman’s loom
Forever weaving, weaving
But do not speak of leaving
Towards a melancholy freedom
Liberty to and liberty from
Run towards the sea,
Away from land’s fee—
And know that winter follows
Felt deep in the hollows
Of lung and bone
And in the silent moan
Between each leafless tree
Only winter alone is free