I love the night sky
but it makes me feel
so small.
To look up
and see the vast darkness,
so massive and beautiful.
To see the glimmering stars,
and wonder what it would be like
to be up in space.
Its overwhelming to think
that there are over 500 billion galaxies.
I'm only one person.
One small human,
on a tiny planet.
The whole world is moving,
and I'm just standing still.

I came to see the casket
An open heavy thing
And what I saw inside was
Decomposition's hymn

A song without a spirit
That never should have died
Remember when you killed it
Remember how you cried

The reoccurring nightmare
That shook you from your sleep
Had made its way outside of
The consciousness you'd keep

The ceremony's over
And now I must confess
My person is the coffin
The coffin is my chest

Take me away
So I can silently break
Let me shatter
Away from all of this clatter
I can't stand the sound
Of a life going down
I allow myself to sink
And before I can blink
I am at the bottom of the sea.
Won't someone save me?
They think I'm pure as snow
Not that I am boiling and smoking
And they will never know
That I am beyond broken

To have everything known
No secrets left
That's true freedom

To have no restraints
No bars blocking me from doing what I want to do
That's true freedom

To have a heart be known
No love to hide or secret admirers
That's true freedom

I am a cave
for nobody dwells within me
and when someone does stay,
they leave just as quickly
im dark and depressing,
lonely and hidden
sunlight and happiness are forbidden
I wish that i could bring joy to others
without hurting myself time after another

child of two moons
        the harvest wheat grows
        diamonds
        on its stalks

daughter of the broken king
        your carousel’s chained bears and albino
        peacocks scream at night for
        their release

lonely lover
        the keyhole is  rusted since he last
        touched you
        the oil getting rancid

martyred saint
        your doe heart has an arrow of Cupid’s
        skewering through a demon’s
        confession written in fire

weeping widow
        your maid took your cup of tears
        to water the lilies giving
        root at his grave

sanguine seamstress
        do not stitch the bird’s
        wing that has bashed
        out its brains

non-existent soul mate
        your fingerprints stain
        my poems
        with star grease

lover whose number I lost track of
        I feel your footsteps ricochet
        within my bones please
        stop running I’m trying to sleep

when all your sorries blur together
they almost sound
sincere

The blank page lies open,
Like a freshly fallen field of snow,
Ready for me to leave my mark
In mucky prints of ink;
Dark across it's ****** slopes

I have little issue with speaking the unspoken,
But begin to falter in breaking the unbroken.
The page is inscrutable; oppressively immutable,
But it's inexcusable to deny its aspiration.

So I must bite my lip and gird my *****,
Break the unbroken and spoil the unspoiled.
But if I set off will I stumble?
What if I fall?
What if the penprints I leave across the field of my page go nowhere after all?

Well there are many fields, and many pages;
And on this long journey; many stages.
I roll in the snow and make a mess;
Start with a word and see what comes next.

So just explore where the blank page leads you.
It may not go where you expect.