I converse with
The voices in my head

They talk slowly
So their guidance isn't misread

In the land you dreamed

for us, I still wait for you --


dead and buried there.

Sometimes, the words don’t come.

The consistent stream of consciousness, ceases.

I am left with nothing to say.

There is a beauty in the broken mind.

Like an abandoned building taken by nature.

It is not that my mind does not work.

It is that it works too fast,

And I am left behind,

Scrabbling in the dust,

Desperately seeking a connection,

In the discarded fragments of thought.

I am fighting a losing battle.

I fear the white flag will soon arise.

And signal the end.

Poetry is good if true

I hate that
In the rhythm of your ecstasy
In the rawness of your craving
I became powerless
To ignore the hunger
That your eyes fed mine

I wish
her scars were on my heart
and not on her arms.

you’ve stolen so much of my soul,
i’m still trying to remember who i was