The Great Red Spot
Gracing Jupiter's surface
Beautiful and intriguing from the outside
And a whirlwind within

A diagnosis to prognosis
Hypnosis to sleep
Meditation to mindfulness
A tragedy to weep
Venting to relief
In the oven to eat
The time in between
is time to keep

If our Universe were laid out flat
With many others
How would we interact
In a beautiful multiverse
Maybe the gravities would merge
Intertwined in a way
Maybe our thoughts of tomorrow
Would be there today
Would we be a layer
In a celestial cake
Or a player
In a space-ruled game

I look at you
You look at him
All I see through
Is my hopes go dim

You'll never see
You'll never know
That it is always me
Making you beautifully glow

It is unfair
Or is it just stale
That he's always there
Watching your little heart fail

I get it though
It's him who'll it ever be
I can painfully feel it hurts, -oh
For I can already see it'll never be me

When i left you,
I got so drunk i tried to hug my mom
but i hit my head on the kitchen counter instead.
My first problem
was that i tried to snake myself between her arms
instead of just asking for a hug.
It was almost like it was too easy,
too vulnerable of a question
but what's more vulnerable
than a drunk heart
with only soft flesh protecting it?
You are a  dull knife.
I wish you were sharper,
**** me with one wound,
but you have to keep trying to break through me.
This hurts a lot more than it would
if i were dead.

love is the ups and downs
of natural geography,
the only two feelings
when standing in the shadow of a mountain:  

1. your iris is the northern lights to me;
​
2. my freckles are grains of sand to you.

let's be realistic,
dear.

I guess we were never
in the same place
after all.

The bad feeling you had when you knew you should've stopped what you were doing.

                          Nervous                        ­sick inside
The bad feeling went  numb & you started to  panic

                          .          .          .

May­be since then, you've felt the supreme nausea, and kept it secret no doubt.

When no crisis occurs, are we all fools to feel relief?
Is to be caught in the act not  the same thing?

not as plain to see
the answers lie within your soul
perceived as instinct .

Music is her mother, it seems to rock her to sleep
with every pick of a guitar she drifts away.
It comforts every cry, and fills every crack in her heart
putting her back together piece by piece,
note by note.

Music is a stranger, she saw once in the rain
he gave her his umbrella and she kept it.
The rain beat on his head, but he didn't regret a thing,
saving a girl from that cold, dark place
was worth it.

Music is a dog, who knows when she is sad
and licks her face just to rid her of her tears.
He is smiling and sniffing her raven black hair,
he's trying to let her know that he cares
a lot.

Music is the sun, who shines down on her
and pushes away all of the dark clouds.
She lets her know that darkness is not for forever,
but it is necessary for people to appreciate
the stars.