To that boy
before he became the poor
specimen in a sea?

Drowning taunts
root the doubts.

His whims departed
long and prior
to the last age of innocence.

Clouds dance no more
than his weary legs
in halls of crowded isolation,
what role can exist here?

That once youthful spark
streams its last thin streak
leaving no more lines
left to draw.

Standing on the hillside
Stilled winds blanket my skin
I close my eyes and embrace
Worms born of skies and clouds
Blank are the colors they inspire

Lying on the hillside
Earth's feathers caress my limbs
I close my eyes and imagine
My bed sinking beneath the ground
Under may I breathe better than above

Falling down the hillside
Sunless upon the town, small and wilting
I close my eyes and remember
Sensations akin to this, akin to innocence
Come the end of my fall, will either of us stand?

Before this old hillside
A body still as corpses about the air
Open eyes shimmer, puddles of rain
Ashes, dirt and dust swim about this sprawled figure
Clothing for naught, now flesh sings with Her whole

My drug, my escape
my gravity,
You are what I lean on
when wind beckons
shrilling of the whole world
amassing within
such small confines.
My air would still
upon silent panics
without you
my constant dosage.

My head is the mount,
my ears the hungry mouths
voracious their appetites, finicky
their tastes.
A hungry duet
yields no isolation.
Fuel the diet
or suffer endless
distraction.

My solitude
won't arise
from elusive
silence, only
multiples of white
noises shall supplant
the unknown absence.
Prepare these notes
as artists do
strokes on a painting,
each their own masterpiece for
the uninhibited mind,
deliver me
a melody, and abstain
the malady.

Grace will unfurl
to and from
when the blank that is
limbo besieges.
Remove all, allow
me to nurture my own
joys of rainfall,
sorrows of sunlight
so I may be spared
relentless storms, those
sandy blizzards,
for their pain
is mere
chaos.

Less seems to be certain
than it is to most.
No goal, no path
no certainty in the expanse of this
equally wandering sphere.

Yet I do not long for life
to be a never-ending circle on repeat.

My mystery lies in mystery itself
The clues are there yet
scattered, fragmented, apart
like leaves and rocks in a
trickling bed of shallow water.

Harmony may well exist
between these minuscule pieces
I only wish my puzzle was as complete.

The first time
I know we both recall
Filled with lights and laughs
Promise was in season
That summer night

My ever-lurking void
Soon filled by you
Excitement, pleasure
Filled by both you
And the idea of you

Yet which was greater
I realized all too late
Which still felt much too soon

I ended us
Cut us short
Nothing changed
Only my vision

And yet
My heart and my life
Have been left a-longing
I can't have the companion
It's "too soon" to start looking
I can't endure the solitude
It's gone too long
And returns in an instant

How much of you
Shall I truly miss?

I lived a never-ending nightmare
Until I said the words I thought would seal me

Common life never stung so painfully
My faith was lost, gained and now is lost again
Routine's turned into a tragic play
Every image flashes as a poignant nightmare
Spontaneous and on repeat

My essence wasn't wholly offered
Succumbing to bottled desperation
I blinded my internal being

Through inexperience we all become audacious

Now the nightmare from before has returned
The true nightmare that withers me whole
An eternal nightmare that neither flashes nor stings
It never hurts, it only numbs.

All our distant memories
are like stars
in the nighttime sky.