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james Oct 9
caught between the sun and the moon
both become lost to me
and i find i am nothing more
than the vast and endless sky inbetween
changed my bio, here's what it used to be
james Oct 9
the air is thick, hot, and forest green
with the daggers youre always staring
i cant help but sigh; theyre always for me
i never meant to destroy you
but ill take your gaze however it comes
you destroy me too
loosely based on carry on by rainbow rowell
james Oct 9
icarus, i believe
is heavily overwritten
especially by me

but golden eyes
and golden wings
never melt
from the mind
of a poet;

it's our apollos
that drive our pens
to begin with
james Oct 9
fun and games
and bright lights on strings
stuffed plushies & autumn leaves
and kindness from every
person i see

you remove the carnival glass
and im seen for what i am
and the carnival goers
in all their own carnival masks
do not understand

ive spoken my truth
so they pack up the stands
pile bright costumes
into dark vans

and i find myself left
with an empty field
of cold air
such is the harsh reality of being known
james Oct 9
i try take it as i see it
but it slips through my hands
like sand, i try to grasp it
but it doesnt make sense
james Oct 7
its two in the morning
and i remember the nights when i was 11
and i tried to understand my true nature
and became afraid and confused

because the more i asked why i
felt or thought some thing or way
the less i was sure
that i had no ulterior motives

(this is how i spent my weekends
when i was not comparing
the local colleges-
yes, i was very fun at parties)

i hadn't words for it then
just frustration and shame
but tonight, in the moonlight
i found them

"the world is a story, and we are all nothing more than untrustworthy narrators," i thought
over popcorn and juice

but i was so young, too young
when i started to ponder
what my actions and beliefs
could really mean

i wouldnt say im smarter now
i wouldnt say im more at peace
but really, the best thing ive done done for myself
is forget how to think
i am not exaggerating
when i talk about not thinking.
once i didnt really like
a situation i was in
so i merely pictured television static
and a blank white room
and i spent the next twenty minutes
not thinking.
james Oct 7
your hair was golden blonde
and your eyes were equated to stars
far more than once
by an ocean of sands within an hour glass

his hair was shimmering bronze
and his eyes were blue as the sea
and he saw you
and he smiled as he answered your loving plea

i assume he felt like four leaf clovers, and shiny lotteries
oh all the sands in the hour glasses
when i spotted you among the masses
couldnt match the yellow hyacinths
that sprouted so surely from me-

for you walked in
hand in hand.

you are an angel bathed in light
as anyone could see
does it make me so blind to shift my gaze;
to know the light was he?
(you are a fair maiden with smiles so saccharine)
(i am a boy much darker than i am sweet)
(so why do i cry to the midnight sky)
("he should've loved me- he should've loved me!")
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