today I sought a frequent why
fore i would rather sleep then die
but given choice, i'd magnify
the fotitudes that lay hereby

these words are merely present ghosts
extensions of this wholesome host
who never found their great almost
the ghouls in which i've been engrossed

with solitude the dark divides
a dawn away from my demise
this sight is not for somber eyes
a thought that brings a sense of prize

I've typed again a wretched fleet
based upon a dire deciet
but history will soon repeat
forcing me to press delete

What is the burn?
I know it's there
like a child playing hot lava
on a floor with no white spaces

it fulfills all of my good graces
leaving me with a bullish bitterness
i thrive on this

its a feeling that no one could ever miss
yet i long for as i cling to the molten floor
it dismisses me as if i pretend to exist

its carefully curated within my lackluster structure
I am merely a byproduct of the painfully chilling burn
maybe i've grown cold, and its the burn of dry ice on my bare skin
maybe, it's within

I can take no action until i decide whether or not its fire or glacier
fore one wrong more will either cause me to melt or incinerate

but like i said, i've grown accustom and attached to the burning sensation
sometimes I have a drink with it and we cope through the inebriation
but at the end of the day, I sleep soundly on my smoldered sheets

thats the issue
I don't mind it anymore
i need to stay awake
I need to live

It must be melancholy, meaning the world
to somebody, who means nothing
to the world

being mere acquaintances
with a musician
or perhaps a movie star
must be much more fullfilling

shaking hands with a king
now that could probably equate
to more then my
Indefinitely inconsistent friendship

i long to give you a better man

so should you chose a seat
next to a man who competes
i won't hate you
I will only drown

in the love that i have for you
it is all the love i have ever known
it is all the love, that there is
it is my entirety
I live in your world

That ******* phone call was like a 4 hour run through a storm
It will be intertwined with my demeanor for the remainder of this illustrious day
And each thread I wear is visibly stained
For the rest of this ****** day
You can see it on my hair dripping with angst
No one will speak to me, because I have so visibly been soaked already

My water’s luminosity…
whisky and sage.
We breed to feed other fishies,
but I’m on stage.
Performing for some human’s selfish garrison.
This disregard is quite humane in comparison.

The cat, your companion,
He claws at me constantly.
I epitomize a pet.
I am merely your captive;
Only aesthetically attractive.
I long to be the social hippie of the sea,
but this isolation is drowning me.
One day you’ll find me ambivalently
sinking at the top of my bowl,
and you will flush me down yours like the rest of your useless ****