sometimes when I drive
i see through the road
and no one else
knows what I mean

and maybe i'll always be
that figure curled up in bed
and still, believing this
i think forever sounds nice
i would like to have forever
to exist at my own pace

hollow me out like a jellyfish
remove my spine-heart-brain
so serine in these
celestial waters

the world is rendering
in these rabbit eyes
a basilisk turns to stone
in their reflection

rainbow in the details
when the lense focuses
is it the tint of my glasses
or the bend in the sign

the abandoning
it happens by the moon
and the noon
and you'd be a fool to think
it'll spare you

a double-edged sword
a wine glass with 2 different shades
of lipstick on the rim
a single shot glass and three empty bottles
the name of a stranger
drawn in saliva on a piece of leather

all that meets us is silence
a word we repeat on crescendo

you messed up
you gave in
accept it
accept it
but stop it
please stop it
you wont ever forget this
itll be so clear to see forever on
the harder and father you go

for 8 days i struck you down
deconstructed myself
it isnt over till
i toss that trinket into a river

you, my dear,
have been the first ive cursed
in a long long time

your effect
truly was a flame to the wind
this town will harbor you no sanctuary
as it never did

what you hold
is a false crescendo
you'll have to use your own breath
to fuel your own flame one day

i want to say something
i want to say it weird
will you listen?
are you listening?
do you care?
i can't say this normally you know
it won't mean the same
you won't understand
maybe you still won't after this
but this way
i can excuse it as art

i think i angered an algorithm
i think there are worms
in the belly of what you call god
my body is buzzing and
i can only think of songs that feel similar
i tell you that i want to go to moonville
to fight my moonself

are you my back up
or my ride
or are you here for the show
will you throw a fit if i take my
moonself out for coffee
and a deep talk?
or will you provide me
with the sledgehammer to
grant my dreams of visiting a junkyard

déjà vu in each word
I have never written before
as if I was meant to write
all this
a long long time ago

the stomach in the palms
of our very hungry hands
spits out acid
reminiscent of the same
gas in nebulas
it pools around our heads
a halo of thought
twisting and spiraling ideas
till it collapses in on itself
falls to our feet
becomes a very heavy star
rolling further away with
each step we refuse to take

see the star wants
to be chased
each stomp makes it jump
releasing a flare
that makes it lighter
stomp and chase
till your star is floating
or else
it will grow ever heavier
a very very very heavy star
falling in on itself
taking you out with it

the brightest white is a thin layer
of clouds spread across the sky
thick enough to warp the sunlight behind
all that has shape and color
diffused

busy busy bee
now you like it
now you're running from-
what are you running from?
their standards wallpapered
over your raw skin
why do you wear it?
you've never liked
the color yellow
you know you can't
fly through water
busy busy bee

find me
in the corner of the local cafe
cling fast to sanctuary
aura of creativity
illusinary productivity
idealized possibility
i would rather bury myself
in it's walls forever
than leave

built a puzzle out of my surroundings
till it makes the perfect formula
the catalysis: energy

You want so much of everything
That you abandon your something
Instant gratification
Like a candy that makes you sick

I'll run out of words I said
I'll run out of words if I keep talking

-have you?

I think so
there's only so many things to say
in so many ways
I'll spend my time trying to say it new
just so I can keep talking
I'm obsessed with the fear of
R E P E T I T I O N

she told me "shut up and let me teach"
and I became obsessed
with the fear of being
T O O  M U C H

I haven't heard the third word
of what anyone has said for
a while and some more now

-only a fool speaks too much

because if you talk for long enough
people will see the holes in you
stay quiet and others fill in the holes for you

cherry pick the ripest fruit
to crush under feet
toss the bruised aside
for another to eat

is it kindness to give
what you dont want
to those who would
gladly have it
or is it sweeter to give
what you do want
to those who would
gladly settle for less

what is the quota
of ripe to rot
that should be given
to whom should the
best parts go
perhaps its not on what
but on how

maybe it doesn't matter
when it turns to wine
in the end

maybe all fruit is better
when shared among friends

I’m exactly where I want to be
On this cold, empty, cliff
With waves crashing
And wind swirling
The sky is clear and blue
But the air is biting
and the light is blinding
My lips are dry
  
I’m exactly where I need to be
Right by your side
As your toes are hanging
They see the dark water
My hands are sure and true
As they hold you back
I wont let you die

it was going well
i was making progress
but it stopped
i stopped
it is hard to start
it is hard to continue
i dont know how it is to finish
because i have never made it that far
what if i never start again
and never find out

this fear hinders me
more than anything else
the fear of never starting again
a self-fulfilling prophecy
the fear of never getting there
makes it hard to start again

the second i turn firm
im afraid its too harsh for you
when you bumped against me
did you bruise?

where the snow melts in sunlight
but not shade
the scent of last nights candle accident
lingers a bit too strongly
the radio plays old classics
with a few too many commercials
old habits for good reasons
turn to excuses
the bitterness of blame
lingers where it's not meant to be
where it was fine and is now
not

self-love is /gorging /buying /hoarding
the discounted chocolates
in the darkest corner
brands unheard of
the forgotten relics
considered a step below the rest
to become a delight to enjoy
for those whom
valentines day does not serve
discount chocolate
doesn't care for the reason it's consumed
just that it's consumed
entirely
and with abandon

defeated in battle
her legs the price
a warrior lays dying
before a grand golden cage
a doll looks down at her
from within, eyes unblinking
her own legs folded underneath her
unused for centuries
“would you like my legs?
I have no use for them
I am sure you would
make them strong again”

the warrior, with the long legs of a doll
gains grace and speed
quite unlike what she had before
she gained glory and revenge
and treasured the gift
swearing to return them
on the day the doll was free from her cage

the doll faired no different
with legs or not
gained a protector
and a companion
she never tried for freedom
for there was no door to the cage
and her dreams were not hindered
she had her hands
and she had her voice
with which she could pass the time
merrily away
with the warrior

began with the end of your sentence
the dredges at the bottom of the mocha
fool yourself into thinking
you are not running on less than nothing
accept it doesn’t make sense
read the symbols you find
at the bottom of your reservoir

where the halls are decked
and the tea party is ready
but all doors out are full of static
and the food numbs lips
words die one someone else's tongue
they've clipped through the floor
and no one notices the lag

climbing a mountain and coming back down
picking up pace after a long break
dancing and running out of breath
waiting for eyes to adjust to the darkness
getting blinded by the light
a sore throat after yelling
bruised skin after impact
sweating in heat
shivering in cold
a hot burning fever
swelling flesh
a dizzy spell
and a healing process

knowing a place
tastes like vibrato on my teeth
the cafe au chocolate tastes like milk today
eyes closed, I can guess it’s maker
sometimes i sit in my car
let the cold seep in
because it doesn’t matter where i am

what is the difference between content and malcontent

seaweed stones and sand
layer on layer over old clothes
made me so heavy deep at sea
in a state of survival
i hibernated in frozen waters
till tide took my body to hot waters

i had to rub skin raw
to grow light enough to breach surface
naked once more
i stand back on the island of my own

have i grown this
fungus heart
myself?
have i
reconstructed myself
to survive in the conditions
i’ve created?

sloth
is the sin i brew
neglect
is the symptom
how do i solve this
when avoiding is
what comes natural

the virus grows too much
when i stay too still
so i keep moving
infecting all yet
trying to escape
this fate
as if running
stops the wound
from bleeding

but still
it is not as if
staying still makes
anything more
then an ecosystem
of self-destruct

winter is the season of waiting
always for something different
than the same grey everyday
spring brings hope of change
breathing a thawing gust
that pushes you from behind
summer holds freedom
a suspended span of time
to indulge in all things bright
fall spurs creation
a rush to bring last life into
what dies in winter
  
its in the first breath we chase
not yet dreams but gratification
the joy of the moment till
the moment ends
  
its in the last dying breath of life
we move the most
building a hoard of dreams to
hold us warm in hibernation

i am tired of asking for help
for now ill let myself wallow
in the water i have soiled
because i know that
this time ive done what i can
to float through to the other side

i dont want anyone else to ruin their
cloths trying to drag me out

for once in my life
i am excited for summer
for i will not be forced
to stand in its sweltering heat
instead i will let the sun
burn my shoulders
on my own terms

i know the taste of rot
the cloying smell
growth of the wrong kind
simple shape turned
grotesque

this isnt the kind of fruit
that can be throw out
i eat what i neglect