the way clouds swirl
like milk in grey tea
when it rains

My decisions grow, as moss grows. Slow, slow and unseen between the green-green of expected. My decisions grow, as moss grows. Quietly wild. Shallow threads clutched tight at the sheerness of possible- drinking light from the dark in order to thrive.

My decisions grow, as moss grows. Slow, slow and unseen. No branches, no forks, no watch-wait-and-see, just spores caught on a breeze when I need them.

Is there something waiting for me?
Because everybody knows I'm missing,
Each effort, gone and lost,
Until I remember my loneliness,
Wasn't this what I wanted?
I fill myself with regret, every single sip,
As I lay down on a bed,
Agonised and prosaic,
Watching through a screen, white light,
Scrolling down, tears abrupt,
Should I notice the uneventful latter?
Of people that unintentionally empathise,
I, the melting melancholic maniac,
They care and look out for.

A phobia, too frightening and aghast,
I hold in secret locked inside,
A fear of sociality, interaction, discussions,
I decide to bury within.

All I wanted to be was adored,
But my pupils dilate as they appear,
I never think of compassion and love,
I abhor and think it is fake,
It ruins me, every single emotion,
Is that why you decided to discard the past?
So you can forget the meaning of love,
But we are alike and the same,
But you ripped the hope out of my mind,
And I will hate you ever since,
And will pay for the crime of sin.

My eyes, they lie;
an awful lie they tell,
My brain trembles;
by this sinful spell.

My mind, it splits;
bipolarity and depression,
My teeth plaques;
from witty perception.

Let my sight be blinded;
by love whom existed none,
Hell awaites my hollow chasm;
my life pointed by a gun.