Ever become lost
until any desire to find
or be found
dies with the sunlight?

That shone world
suddenly distant,
further than
small dying memories.

Better to be
separate and away,
for I am not them.
I am not
you.

See, these eyes prefer
darkness,
the blank sheet challenging
to create light.
So shut them
to see.

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

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.

Take a step back
--believe me, I did--
and see that the pain
of love is a universal,
defining trait here.

Where are the words
--where is the celebration--
for obscure
pop culture references?

Surely some overly obsessed
Game of Thrones nut
has some worthwhile words
to share
if but for a day.

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.

...rays of sunshine
are but the shadows they cast.

...life's luster falls
  beneath stones in the ground.

...mountains once congruent
  falter to a crumbling world.

...wondrous, cloudless skies turn to
  overcast in the coming crimson doomsday.

...spring and summer suffocate
  as winter greets Fall like tears to lost vitals.

Without you
there is a constant reminder

I've failed.

Here's the grand illusion...

I was the evasive shadow

But we have only just begun.

Tell me, isn't that strange?

Every day feeds this moral decay
In the strange game of life.
Now we can feel the winter.

Solitude's upon my skin
Waiting for the rain you're bringing.

Communication's broken, phantoms are far away.
Now the leaves are turning red
In a time of hope and desperation.

So I wither
Out the dark into the fire below.

All I wanted was to be with you and suffer every day
There are no flowers on your grave
Willing to die and I will, after you for what I believe
Life betrays, but I keep going
And as long as I'm alive I won't be free
'Cause on time fate calls out to us.

In my dreams I can hold you, and I wake so alone
It's not too late for me
Things I must die for
Soon I'll be knocking at your door.

Walk me across the water
Shine your light, be the beacon of hope at night.

There's no time to waste
Our quest will last forever
Two hearts should meet
The wheels are in motion, together we turn them.
Am I losing all track of time?

Free to the end
It's a hard won place of mystery.

Realize our full potential
How can we ignite the flame while missing the true spark?

Gravity is finally giving in
Down to the detail
It's meant to be, I see the signs
Pictures of something we lived.

If you follow the flame you end up in the dark.

Let's imagine this beautiful paradise before us rise
Endless, our dreams carry on
Living in our hearts
Some say it's like autumn breeze
The night will be our day
Far beyond reality
And I wish the sun would slip away
Will it make me see?

I breathe as hard as you as I end my day
Now forever falling down.

Whatever dreams we're reaching to claim
Twist and shake
It will never come back again.

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.

I am empty
Like a wasteland I am empty
Desolation should've yielded comfort by now
Left without time to call my own
I am not even my own person
How can I be another's?
It seems a simple desire, to belong
Yet I've never fit

My life is one of internal isolation
Can that separation and life itself exist, harmoniously?
As always, I hold doubts and withhold hope

Nihilism, pessimism...it all blends the same stench
I am with the crowd in my saturation, if nothing else
Perhaps more are empty than I thought

I estimate myself as beyond all others
Inner capacity poised for pain and self-conflict
What is my mental pain, so toxic, in the wake of Hell's disasters?

Please, I need a true companion
Romance would be the unexpected bonus, if possible
Hear me, comfort me, be there for me
I admit to my utter weakness and frailty
Now I bare myself in an attempt to finally strengthen
Now I need a mentor, a true mentor

Are you out there?

We all know this feeling
upon certain loss.
Our essence, our vitality
vanishes as wood does
upon the death of the fire
that burnt it before.

We become hollow,
Doubting any substance remains
within our closest, tired caverns.
What's unleashed can't be physically seen
and yet it trivializes
the most gruesome of bloodbaths.

At times--even all times--
we wish we would bleed
rather than cry
so our hearts could donate what we lost
to the dry, coarse dirt.

But don't wither yourselves so,
for none should crack
with the frailty of a shell.
The roots may be ripped,
yet the seed may still be planted.
And with no sunshine,
a sunshine we begin shunning,
the rain of our tears can never cease
to allow our true pedals to finally blossom.

What's in a color?
A mere shade, a simple hue
Fooled I feel, fooled I was
Always have been
We're the only ones to fall

Am I destined
to forever swallow the water?
Healing skin, stinging the throat
It has a body
and I claim one as my own

Waiting as the fisherman does
I'm absent when my reel tugs
Ignorant, distracted
Excuses

Now I wind back
I'm left empty and alone
The sea has never been my ally

No partner
When I am, in fact
The foreigner

To understand is to struggle
Against more than just the current

Sails ripped and torn
Through storms aplenty
Will this night finally yield peace in the breeze?

There's a floor I've yet to explore
and it exists far below
Survival cannot be
Therefore I seek inevitability

I may search, I may chase
Yet I cannot promise
Any more than the next eon
An era I'd struggle to obtain
For none but her.

When released from
societal confines,
mockingly posing
as structure, newfound serenity
is confused with discord.  

Manifest inner conflicts
and God-like shadows
will be cast.  

Chains snap and allow
wounds to heal, or crush
from beyond bone.  
The absolute of life
is only grey so long
as we breathe.  
Is birth or death the light we seek?  
Are we more blind
when facing that light, or
the pure dark pitch
of silence?  

Perhaps life will dictate
this presumed ascent
or descent
before we're unleashed beyond
withering forms dancing
aimlessly on a speckle
of the universe.

Luminescent screen
oh how you constantly shift subtly.

Your shiny frame grows heavier
with every passing picture.

Images appear on repeat
a reminder of the grim we occupy.

Do not desire to witness
cruelty on display, depravity glamorized.

I will let you live
so the others know what happened

Pages copied and pasted,
channels twisting the same story.

What a dull situation;
why glorify what's poised to divide us?

We all see the attack on faith's establishment
so who shall be the ones to prevail?

Can the faith in each other overcome
or shall we be infected by what's cruel
and hateful?

So far the ground appeared
never thought I would see again.  
World seems so much nicer
from afar.

All it took was one sparkle
from one star.  
Clouds swept through
and through--
a transparent bloodstream
casting me into delirium,
dancing the sky
carelessly.

But flight isn't my course,
I cline with
the wind's will
and wisp.  

This descent
all too familiar.  
I will not return to
what grips me down,
that which grips us all.  

Let this coming clenching
have but one final victim:
My breath.
Allow my exhale
to rise in its departure
so it may stay
lost in the cloud,
a haven I forever seek.

It is one of those days
where I get stuck
in my pit

struggling to climb
needing to escape

Soon may be too late
late will be too long

Can someone lend me a rope?
I shan't hoist myself
not yet.
Send it so you may
safely descend
not to stay
only to visit
so I have company's comfort
here in my pit.

Maybe then they'll understand
why I slip so suddenly
and help me remember
there's always a way out.

The time will come
when the climb is
self-attained.
But I can't
not now.  

So the rope might still reside
lost to shadows only I could be
seeing.  
I just hope you carry a glimmer
of what's left of the world's lights
so this climb
and (m)any others
will be eased.
Then will come my ascent
yes, this time my own
when I won't need another
for each gradual advance
back into that
twisted little reality.

I just want to know there's another chance.
There are always other chances out there.  Millions, in fact.
Not with others, but with them.
We both know that's unlikely.
But there's a possibility?
There's always a possibility, but they'll probably find another before giving you another shot.
What if they don't find somebody else?
Then you might.
What if I don't either?
Then, based on how you both think and behave, they'll be content and you'll be self-defeated.
How could they content all alone?
They are their own person; they're fine with themselves.  You, however, are not.
Should I be?
*At least consider it.

We poets
we love depression.
We don't desire it
we just gravitate towards it.
We seem so naturally fit
we can hardly think of a better couple.

We hate the trap it sets in place
we can't seem to avoid slipping in.
We lack that single, moral strength
we see and crave so much of.

We are obsessed and
we are loners, and
we wouldn't change that if
we could, for it is merely who
we are, who
we end up becoming, not what
we choose to be, simply an effect
we see in the cause of life.

Clumsy creator
scribbling whimsical impulses
silently crying with desire for bliss;
the one-sided dream of popularity.  

Such history
angst protrudes
endless words repetitive
for all shades to a single
melancholic emotion.
Comfort comes from discomfort
past and present.  

His tales err
each day a page
littered with blemishes,
the next forever blank
until written so.

Don't dwell too long
correction's left to
what the future promises;
more room to fill
than a page growing
ever so occupied,
worry growing rapid
like a child to a parent.

Despair
long the struggle
you must overcome.

The weather for any path we take
realized by our mind's forecast
our eyes the screen we sense.

Solace may come
when rain falls heavy
yet the sun shines
promising growth with
the earth long overseen;
beauty cannot forever cling to
nights and overcast days
while light permanently contrasts

So please
embrace balance.

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?

Do all birds fly so suddenly so?
Has the prowess of my wingspan
imposed too much?
For that is an escaped motive
and is only what I am.

I seldom call
Yet when I do
I sing
with intent to soar
until my pitch conducts the winds
Bestowing me the cream
of all flocks.

And yet these skies
though far from vacant
are populated more by clouds
than by those who would requite me.

Too many feathers
broken and chipped
While my
presumably unbeknownst competitors
assume roles beyond me.

And here I reside
Biding for that right hour
of that right season.

Dear Life,

Can you drop the charade
and numbingly bathe me
in the musical fantasy I seek?
I fear reality has too many hooks and shards
for my light, thin balloon to handle.
I would rather fade with Mother's breeze
than burst underneath
this deep, dark ocean.

Here I hear
Those foul voices
in the air.
Spitting putrid
Toxic to the ear
Nearly as much
as the mind.

Purification expensed
for the sake of inner chaos.

There's a storm I face
Night upon night
When the vacant spots
must be filled.

Desire yields growth
for these cavernous seeds
Roots sinking
every passing moment
Left to waste.

How warm I feel
lit like a fresh candle.
I illuminate in anticipation
longing your graceful presence
dawning within me
a long yearning.
Sensation pierces my chest, unfurling
a tranquility that soothes
my newly welcomed scars.

I'm overcome with breathless desire
for we, two pieces in the puzzle
to at long last conjoin.  
The time till now
may seem brief, yet sights
are but faint fingerprints
when feeling one's whole hand.

With you there's comfort and care;
I'm convinced dreams can be lived
experienced in full
even when we're awake.

Trust me,
I am willfully overwhelmed
by your shimmering glee.
When you approach, I feel
like a lit match
easing me into a euphoria
one should never be without.

And suddenly, so subconsciously
trouble fades into the eternal night
while our fire grows
small in size yet vast in volume.

If the screen were to expand
subvert and swallow the world
who would come with me?

If I had the choice--
if we had a choice
which would we take?
An interpretation of Vulcans and Klingons,
a blockbuster's version
of outlaws in the Caribbean,
maybe a future soon to be
where computers speak
as if they were the ones we love.

Past troubles could break away
for that new start
so many of us so often want,
as if renewed from our resignation.

Goodbye, cruel world,
for we seek a fantasy.

It is an illusion.
We are ourselves a story
and no story is without conflict,
we can face and resolve our own ourselves.

Don't let the escape steal your mind
allow the challenges to stake their claims
and stand forth, showing your face
in all its terror and fear.

If thoughts could speak
freely without intrusion
from our language
constructed as
a large structure
rife with walls
converging
top to bottom
side to side
echoes dead
or dying further.

During those walks at night
spontaneous and empty of purpose
I fertilize my best thoughts
the kind one doesn't simply return to
calling and commanding upon
like some song's familiar reprise.

How I could speak
if they simply came out
with need for neither pen
nor paper, just to save them
in their fresh purity
but when I come back to
the clear beautiful glass that formed
has been cracked
stained and collected dust
over the course of generations
or so it feels.

We so seldom stick with what we plan.
It's a reason many who attempt to lose weight
gain it all back again.
We're quick to desire and even begin a necessary change
but we're just as quick to revert and recede
back to the state and place we're currently in.
We become comforted by our mundane discomfort,
slipping further and further into lethargy
until all we have are words
with neither action nor thought to speak of.

I enjoy this
overcast
morning breeze
it is cool
but not chilly
for if it was
I'd surely be shivering
shriveling in my skin
instead I am tranquilized
so my senses can escape
so briefly
but just long enough
to forget
and to breathe.

I can breathe now.
The space once thinned
the air thickened
what was left
when it was shared
or stolen,
who can tell the difference?

I can speak now.
Where words were once vessels
heavy, bulging, bursting
and not a one
would not crash and break
when brought before you,
by choice
or coercion.

I can think now.
Every notion that could be ill--
that was ill--
needn't be fretted over,
their truth and honesty
can bask in the world
of my mind, where
my thoughts are the plants
that need nourishing
and my mind can finally bring out
the sun again, while my escape
and freedom brings the rains
breathing health and breeding growth.