A bright,white light
Shines on my face.

I squint, it's blinding me.
A voice from my left, deep and strong
"Come to my side. I'll show you the way."

I peer into the blackness, ominous, red.
Where should I go? What should I do?

I hesitantly take a step towards the inferno,
and hear evil cackling.

Now, a voice to my right, heavenly,
Awe-inspiring.
"Do not go to him. you will get lost.
You will be alone."

"But the light. The light," I protest. An answer.
"Open your eyes.You will see."
I opened my eyes and saw.

you appear to be real
when you really appear
then I look in your eyes
but you’re not living there
I hold out my hand
and I cling to cool air
I grasp with my mind
a subtle despair
and I glance toward the sunset
at least once a year
to see where you're hiding
because it is you
whom I unfathomably
fear

I need you
to combat dreams
I can’t control;
to keep me warm
in-between
seasons and days.
You help me see.
I’m not addicted.
I just have high ex-
pectations for my mind.
The connections
you fasten;
the faltering awareness
you calm and persuade
to remain.
I do want you here,
boiling with the pressure
of my stomach
like the worries which
brought you into me
from a cup
poured by my hand,
shaking.
While you were emptied,
I smiled, and thought of
the focus I’m gaining.
Please disperse yourself
throughout my body.
And tell the thoughts you bring
along with you to
leave me in peace
with my imaginings.

I dont want my temporary happiness hanging from you, tugging at your lips
Felt beneath my hips, as I lie still under your kiss

Cause my happiness is like a vine
That no good ****, clinging on to bricks, splint with twine
Pretty in it's own way but poison when you touch

Pieces of it living in the crevices and cracks
Determined to come back, always to come back, to try just one more time.

I'm afraid my happiness will entangle you,
And dare I fall, will strangle you
Leaving you helpless as I drop

See, this feeling it is temporary,
Sadness blooms inside of me
No matter how many chemicals or pills I pop
Like an axe to the vine, gone with one chop, one feathered tick of the clock

Never meant to grow again, but nonetheless,
will never stop.