And with all things eternal and inscrutable,
Darkness has two faces.
There is the sheer silence that resonates with my being
There is the call to become one with it.

I had once seen the horror along its abyss
It had my face on it.
Funny, because I saw my own eyes
Grave, despicable saucers.

But I was as still as the deepest rivers
As calm as the precedence of a terrible storm
Such that I thought I was only a moment's away
For darkness to wholly cave me in.

Sometimes you don't give up for yourself
But for the people who never gave up on you

Where do I feel most alive?
Is it in the arms of love?
In the swift, sad rain?
The first drop of coffee?
Or the dance of swans in the
clearest ponds?

I dont know what pushes me up
With the late morning sun
I dont know what tells me to
Swing along my pain
Like wine in a flask
I just do.

I come passing time with whatever.
I come enduring whenever.
I hang on a thin line
Of 'what ifs' and 'I guess(es)'
Holding my head on days
when I just dont know

I really don't
But I'll live to find out.

I tasted your lips in a sip of that coffee
Bittersweet, strong though it calmed me
You are the aphrodisiac that dug through
my subtlety
Awaking me with your aroma invitingly

I'd take another cup of you, be drunk on
wakefulness
Collide in our own magical listlessness
You burn my tongue, twist me in a mess
My love, my love your love does impress

I've heard evaded promises
With the touch of your lips

I've seen countless faces
With the desire you bore inside of me

I've lived a million lives
With the collide of our souls

I looked hard at the lake
Saw a villain from within
I caved in the existential murkiness
To question all that rots, all that wrecks
The heart of the unknown
Is both wonder and disgust

My breathing is an orchestra
The dissonance is unbelievable
Almost blasphemous
Some creatures nip at my fleshy mortality
I wonder how they tasted me

The cold calls me with ordinary gesture
I say my greetings to the other side with pleasure
Asphyxiation desensitized me with ******* rhyme
As the romantic swell of death settles

There is no god to claim me
I am the reason for everything
That I am
No more and nothing else

I've never fit in,
I never belonged anywhere
except to myself.

Piles of crickets in my gut chattered like peasants again
Straight to my heart of pebbles—crashing whole as a full speed train
Every second ticks like a passing in hell
A long winding pit that only those who've gone could tell

Limb by limb I am restrained by an invisible force
Keeping me chained to illusions,leading to an undesired course
I am at the mercy of the shadows that sprang like weeds from inside me
Sweeping me stolen like a forest with not even one solitary tree

They tell me to laugh it off like a drunken's joke
To push on with what is left of my cursed yoke
If I cut myself in pieces they'll hang their mouths open instead
For they'll stop it with the "it is all just in her head"

The sun that warms me vital has long been eclipsed in my vision
In this blanket of sadness, there is only growing oblivion
I'd like to rise some more but how can I? I am the battle
There is nothing to see here except for me to be reduced in a rubble

'How much do you make?' rather than 'What do you love to do?'

It ***** to be a realist. To know that the world can be terrible and at the same time be filled with the possibilities of the wonderful. And then there's you, the poor realist, who somehow has all this truth and hope and idea of everything black and white, good or bad. So you build up this fear inside you, this pain that everything can go either ways of opposing extremes and there's nothing you can do about it except go on  and live with both sides.

You are your heartache
You are your mistake
You are your destiny
You are your catastrophe

Your thoughts are your poison
Transmuting to mindless action
Your words your dagger
That yourself can only conquer

You are the world you create
You are the answers you await
Be your own mentor, hero and friend
For the one who makes your life is you
In the end.

Til when will I snap out of this. I havent been reading or writing poetry like I used to. I'm so mad at myself and of everything bec it feels listless and aimless. I love what I used to do and given the chance I'll pay a leg for it if I could. But that passion seems so far away I only ever dream about sleeping or not really giving a **** and the days pass on like fleeting whispers and I hear nothing, I know of nothing. How did anyone live with this preposterous ******* I'd like to understand how because my days of tolerating it are dwindling down into a deep desire of wanting to see something burn and smell the smoke and hope it possesses my ******* senses. i hate this i hate what has become of my sanity of my body of my feet they all betray me like an idiot ******* out of my ******* hinges I am. I am screaming into a vacuum that nobody goes to the ****** lie I just want everything to be okay because I cant stand another year of blind inferno this is not fair this is terrible it's like dying with your eyes wide open forcing you to swallow all your pain and do not complain you ungrateful coward this is the life you will have give or take shut up there is no point. I am mad and sad and everything in between i wanna rip the ******* edges of those weaker than myself but I cant but I wont idk why but it's for that that I am still on my limits