a heart filled
with precious empty stones.

distributed one by one
endlessly.

until it is filled
by none.

it was once
that i was the rain
in drops.

but a puddle
in this world
grows a skin of gasoline.

a rainbow sits
on this body of water
only when
a flame is found
to light the way.

the flame will drown.
the way will die.
to find the light inside.

and the light
it leaves
in broken pieces

scattered,
as i was,
when once it was

that i was the rain
in drops.

a doe does not walk the forest
covered in flames.
its faun does not eat it
from within.
but they drink if they are thirsty.
and the water does not walk
from the shade to the sun.
and the sun
does not burn brighter
than it must.
it only burns until it dies.

suffering is your enemy.
do not mourn your suffering.
love it while it is still here.

i enjoy my author.
he is a good author.
i love my author.
he does not think highly of me.
i can not cope.
i will end it all.
goodbye.

i know
what it is to be
immutable madness.

for this decade of my flesh
pushing through the streets
under the sun to find a place
to sleep in the shade,
my rhythms have been guided
by the mesmerizing code
told to me
by my very own
self appointed hypnotist.

the spider who sleeps deep in my ear
who's dreams drip down my throat
and fill a pool inside of my chest.

but i never knew the tongue in
which a spider speaks.

i know not what i have done.
i woke up in a place lost to the world.

i will poor myself
into a cup
and drink heavily.