Though suffering seeps upwards through the floorboards
And creaks in the night
And comes when the wind shifts
And the moon’s light is blocked by the

swirling

Black

Sky

I have always had a morning
I have always known the warmth of a fireplace
I have always found an answer.

so I just wait.

I am not myself
The day is growing darker and
I am not myself

Before, I was different.
Tomorrow, I will be different than I am today.
Even so,

I hope that I will remember what I was like
After today has faded into yesterday.

That I will not forget what it was to be me
In this present moment

Because once tomorrow comes, today will be forever trapped behind the pane of glass that separates present from past.
I want to remember how to feel that which can no longer be touched, to see that which is no longer visible, to hear that which is no longer audible.

Then, maybe
I won't have to spend so long staring through that impenetrable pane of glass

Because I will remember

Don't live in a narrative
The result is only more heartbreak
When you realize the story's not true

Sweet melancholy
Lips so sweet
I curl into your soft embrace
But your arms won't contain me
For I am a restless beast

if i forget my desire
i attain its object

Be like sand
Breaking and shifting under the tide
Stagnation is a sin to me
I am movement
I am flux

Dont leave me alone in my head
This ******* constant anxiety
Always
Driving me insane
Dont leave me
Cause I'm screaming
But i cant make a sound

Tomorrow,
I will think of these interesting days
And wish for them to be new again.

These odd days of
mixed joy and suffering
They have a quality of more-ness, somehow
As if each day could be two.

And when, again, I am in the droning
Repetitive swirl
Then I will wish for these days again.

so stuck in our heads sometimes
Like walking into another room with
Windows and books on the shelf and
Plain walls

And when the walls shimmer away
hold our breath
Taken
reclaim what it is To
be
Captive

Odd that freedom engenders slavery
They embrace in us
And Chase us like foxes

How have I, up until this moment
Never felt my own heartbeat
And been stricken by its presence
Odd
What a horrifying idea

I can't tell what's real
Eleventeen crows
With dogs on either side
Fly by the
Empty church on a Sunday night

Cause my head's a blur
Of black dogs chasing white crows through the dark sky
Where the bark
Is my head headed

**** me
And al-so *******
I'm a butterfly
And my poem is better than yours too.

I'm on drugs
Just not the kind you think
They help me with my feelings
And keep me from the brink
Of some in-sane
Dicis-ion-making

Like wearing shirts back
To front
And in
Side out

and other things...

nothing's real

stop trying to live in someone else's reality
as if they could know you
or contain you

I wonder if that thing is a someone
like the other someones i know...

we look through each other with indifferent eyes
like the gray winter rain that
blurrs the landscape of our minds
become unfamiliar once again.

but we can take comfort in misunderstandings

and pretend to know what it is

that makes us anything

but somebody else's

someone

I always carry a book with me
Like a place to hide
During the rainstorm
Warm and dry

I did not know
or refused to know

the difference between improving the parts of myself
that could grow into things great and full
and help me grow into something more myself
grow closer to me

and changing parts of myself
because I felt hatred for them
though they were me

The desire to improve oneself often grows from self-hatred
and can only be cured by acceptance and love

yet
self-acceptance does not equal stagnation

sometimes I wish I wasn't awake for this dream.

If only I could let go
of those childish dreams
and learn to desire
what I cannot fully see

words unspoken
speak the loudest

You are my Eden, love
And I will eat the fruit of your tree

Let me curl into your embrace
Love,
Encircle me

I've disappeared into myself
And reality seems
.
.
.
.
.
.
distant

if your eyes cry then you have seen
if your heart stops then you have felt
if your soul screams then you have been

if your eyes smile then you have seen
if your heart beats then you have felt
if your soul, like the sun
shines with a comforting warmth
then you have been

I bestow upon you my most beloved possessions
These kisses I plant on your cheek and lips and neck and chest
How lovely we are together
how lovely

The man lays in the gutter
Street splattered with blood

Hundreds of scrambling feet
Run to pick up his crown

Punch the wall
Throw yourself against it
It will not break.

Don't let distraction masquerade as enjoyment.
Something lies under the surface.

One setback from suicide
All I feel
What's my death worth
All I feel
Be my bullet please
Love
Come into me
love
Save me

most of what i do is just a distraction from the apparent reality that there's no good reason to be doing it.

Words pass

through soft lips

So adoringly

And run down your cheek

And

Our eyes begin to dance

The condition of existence
To run like a light
From its shadows

I'm running.
I have been for a while, I think.

I'm just trying to find a place
Where joy outweighs my suffering

I don't think it's real, though.
Not really.
If It existed, I would already have it

Because it's all in your head, as far as I can tell.
There's no "where" better than "here"
Because here is the only where there is.

****.

Why should elsewhere
Be preferable to nowhere?
Or anywhere really….

Whatever “where” I inhabit
It will be my where.

you filled me
in a single moment

with the taste of vanilla
and feet sliding playfully over the mossy river stones
and white sunlight through the window shades

our dreaming starts when sleeping ceases

fill me
again

please

only world worth
existing
you create yourself.

i'm one of those narcissistic beasts,
those animals that christened themselves
and created gods to **** the demons in their hearts

what's a god to a god-creator?

After the leaves fall
And all goes silent

Summer's warm breeze is carried in our breath
And a harmony of voices
like candles
Ring wanly through the frigid night

Two bodies embracing
Find warmth in eachother
We become what was lost

My essence wilts
In
this cruel cold

enduring truth:
That
all must gray

though sorrow screams
This
I whisper here too

sun’s healing warmth
will
always stay

We are but flesh
Embracing on the
Precipice of silence

Words in the dark


Illuminate

I am but a warm breeze
Passing
plaintively
Searching for that momentary ecstacy

forever
slightly out of reach

Wanderlust
How your eyes dance bright
And your body twists in the sunrise
I would run to the east with no thought of ceasing
If you would twist with me in the midnight
That eastward light, the burning lust within me
How long will you dance, barely out of reach

You look at my face
With searching eyes
And I think I should want you
But I don't

I am something new and without a story
An empty mold
Because the warm sun touched my face
But there's a part missing
Some memories I didn't make
From the time when I should've been there
But I wasn't anywhere at all.

what are we
this flesh?
twisted and stretched
to contain all our humanity

am i not what I say i am
certainly not what I think i am
but in this midnight twisting
I am you
and you me

nothing makes sense but some things seem to
be
like the twisted flesh in the midnight

without thought
of what
are we

There is a place, before the kings keep
Where those looks of solemn dignity
Go resignedly to weep
Between the gray trees and under gray canopy

To the place where wildflowers wilt and muses mutter
Little words, falling like white feathers in the muddy water

If one walks between the trees
There is a basin, and liquid of silvery green
Imbued with the mutterings of agony unseen

It is the words of those sorrows frail
Spoken with a breath and then a look of fright
And then a frantic run from faces clothed by night
Dissecting looks unrelenting judgments
upon the unredeemed

all who have felt the pain such as muses sing
And cried at night or betwixt the thorny leaves
have drunk of this basin green
And felt the hot swell of sorrow rising from the deep
crevices of our frail corporeal shells

And the voices of all those who filled it up
Violently swell in undulating liquid wail

From those who walk betwixt the trees
Is sounded the great collective scream.

What's next, then?
Suicide or Madness?

Words
Like stones at the bottom of a river
Black and molded by the running water

The stones cannot understand the great undulating liquid above them
Crashing and pounding against the bank

Soon that powerful unrestrained energy settles to a languid flow
Tapering off slowly
Until the river dries
And the stones crack in the hot sun.

yellowing page
Animated only by sentiment
-Even that is dying-
All is fleeting.