I was left on a wire
Far above the earth,
Amongst tied sneakers and birds,
Far away from the world.

The fires beneath
Did viciously bleed through and race,
As an artist’s seeping oil paints,
Crimsoning the broken autumn space.

Safe as I was,
Stranded was I as well.
And although by peace my soul’s fires were quelled
The morn meant to awaken me instead burned in hell

And so the grounds once walked,
Now pits of flames to where I turn a blind eye,
Await flowing tears from the skies
Or perhaps even a gentle god's sigh

But life was equally vicious in it's droughts,
And with myself I could not make amends
Like a rat who refutes the hand to which it depends
Again and again, my own mind  finds itself to condemn

And so I seek refuge
Between the land and the sky so true
In hopes to see my fears and tears be subdued.
To be among the dead and hollow, I allude,
Fleeting, to a higher ground, but still they collude
To bring me down, as bottled up, I remain overdue
Of a reckoning or healing to burn or to soothe.
Til so, I burn, though from flames so far removed.
And lay my mind further in limbo, and so, I say adieu.

before a troubled dawn,
or perhaps a lustful dusk,
glazing irises watch
as the skies illuminate dust.

each entity so restless in life
but hopelessly idle in whole,
and to flames, moths obsess,
the way the old phrase goes.

i was leaving everything behind me.
away, a past that i was afraid to give a name,
and therein lay a less feeble version of myself,
one too dangerous to know shape nor shame.

in my truth there was absolute impunity:
a bliss born amidst bouts of regret and pain,
yet in that past, i became fond of the figures
and attached to the clouds that brought rain.

but here i am still, before a night sky of departure,
in mellow revelation, off far my eyes stared
where masses of dust broke apart silver waves,
and the dark encrypted the skies i've come to bear

but through this encryption, this supposed mask,
was in actuality an authentic face unveiled
where the universe could smile gently
through specks of drying cosmic tears derailed.

in frolicking youth, i thought the sun and moon
followed me through the whole earth, endless.
with age, i've found they were truly indifferent
simply symbols of my mind to quell my loneliness.

yet the sun never stopped shining, even through the night,
and was but a mere star amongst galaxies vast.
as such, there were other magnetic blazes like mine.
ones that did not bring day, but revived its past

so was i, a soul in purgatory, but another moth?
struggling for beaming strands of hope?
so was i, a broken shard of glass, but a speck of dust?
only reflecting selfless hopes as means to cope?

as the universe at its unpredictable core expands
i fear only more the vastness, the growing cracks
between the earth and the rest of humanity
where stars avoid eyes, and the moon our grasp

where the speed of light becomes inadequate,
time is no longer made, and names become unused
where constellations dissipate into old nonsense
as erosion does away to memories of light, diffused

when underwater whispers of memories surface,
and their breaths die out with the atmosphere,
when loneliness overcomes the whole of the night,
and all old anticipations become utter fear

the day space becomes empty due to being too full of itself,
the way stars dull and die behind the curtains of streetlights,
these souls, they grow so much farther in space,
yet even if unseen, i know they shine, day or night

these souls, they breathe life into those who they touch
and in turn, parting becomes a ceremony of grief.
too often, stray starlight illuminates meek forms
its origin long dead, its soul finally released

however all the more empowering in its halted vibrance,
its light, a faint memory and hushed whisper, remains,
even through the midst of the world's refusal to stop,
echoing hope by renewing legacies and pains

so perhaps i can leave,  leave with my past behind
so long as a single star shines, my path is set.
those fond memories of pain and joy alike
are carried with me within my every breath

and as the distance grows, they shine still
even out of sight, yet never out of mind
my departure becomes another arrival between constellations.
and every entity glows wherever starlight shines

and i find myself drawn to these flames again.
emerging from a long night is a new dawn:
the rising sun: a sign that i can leave
with peace and grief hand in hand,
despite daylight’s shroud, the stars are never truly gone

drinking from grounded reflections
of a flightless sunset
who casts mirages set in stone,
daydreaming clouds alone
punctuate skies in perfection
as much as in sweet regret.

smeared upon the flat face of the sky,
forming withered smiles,
a cirrus in august breathes,
meandering through leaves
who whistle and sigh with our nigh
ending dreams juvenile

and scales of gray and gold evade
questions asked from below,
instead recalling masses
who cloak skies in ashes,
a stratus, nature’s renegade
and need, who drowns wholesome glows.

so idle passions retire
as the uncertainties
which animated our dreams
are doused in conscious streams
and with life ignite a fire
kindled within fantasies

spending hours reading the still clouds
wavering only when
our eyes are cast far away.
draped curtains steal last days.
so time drowns, a voice in a crowd
not unlike myself back then

its only 6:47am
but i've been up since 2 something
i was thinking about who i am
i guess im doing well.

i went to sleep at like midnight
after late-night overeating at a Shari's on a thursday.
two hours was it, try as i might.

i was feeling a little sick of myself, honestly.
kind of sick of yourself where you just think,
"in the end, what's there in store for me?"
and come up with few answers.

it was so weird, waking up to complete darkness,
motionless for hours in pitch night, before the day starts.
alright, this wasn't anything new, but regardless,
it still made me think.

i don't quite know where i'm headed,
yes, im waiting for the sun, but what then?
can i just go back to bed?
it feels like i just spent it all on a daydream,
doing nothing, but waiting, waiting, waiting, to fall asleep,
just to dream in the dark instead.

if i dont think, or move for a bit, i can feel myself drifting,
but it feels kind of comforting,
despite deep craters beneath by my eyes, twitching,
i know i'll go back to sleep sometime.

a last shot into unknown,
dive deep into the soul less ink,
only to impart your own,
perhaps to emerge victorious?

imbue the stale cruelty of the inanimate
with the vivid cruelty of the soul,
bleed unto the mocking desolute canvas,
drawing blood from mindy & body in whole.

a last shot with broken minds,
write words that are not your own
for crazed usbthe hand that the soul hides behind
a battle of thoughts, then all alone.

Was it really anything at all?
These things I write, I can't quite trust them.
Yet I can't trust what I don't write.
It's so easy to get lost
In the _ of  _

so there's this girl,
as there is the moon,
and a rain lily who
in her light  blooms.

so there's this girl
and stars raining light,
flooding the oceans,
making dawn of midnight.

so there's this girl,
rising anew like the sun,
over earth her winds run,
retracing what she's spun.

a lavender light
brushes by a crested sky,
withering toils

though the weathered roads
crack still in our tread home,
the sky turns alone.

verdant cascades fall
from lush rounded peaks above
rolling hills dive deep

with oneiric breaths,
from rivers to the roots who
echo ebbs & flows

Waiting
For the shadow of the earth
To drink the sunlight from my room
So you can light it up
With a little light on my phone

Waiting
For other voices to fade to white
I could listen to yours all night
Even if its just vibrations
Or my specially set ringtone

dimming violet
and orange edges upon
slanted sidewalks
for an uphill walk home,

tonight's "lastness" is violent,
it's all I that I know,
replaying the sole sound of
a front door slowly being closed.

as the light between the night
and the horizon ebbs,
what's left becomes outer space,
the milky way flowing in.

I could drink the sight,
but with a shot of spite,
or bittersweetness, or some other
Way to rephrase our immense distance.

mourning is not quite the word,
as the odds between
me and the earth
felt like they were evening.

This world had given
But it's unclear if it takes
For I didn't lose the present,
I just put memories away.

Last night
Simply means the night before now
Even if it's our last night
We'll last through it somehow

does long-sought summer simmer
more with yearning?
should not a reckless desire unbound
plead for unlearning?
does not a whisper of a breeze upon a scorched blacktop race
through the stillness of youth,
fickly departing without a trace?

these things shall pass, only while they're good
as the expanse of outside
accelerates beyond youth's neighborhood
and a last enduring moment clings
for dear life as it darts between
time and space upon nostalgia's wings.

it is only after the last drop of lunar luster
upon the chilled earth dissipates
that rich amber rays sprawl from a horizon
such that the night falls and dawn breaks

and so should not the end of one story
plead for another to awaken from slumber?
as one smile fades should there not be
another to turn back the first day of summer?

Now I've grown,
Yes, summer was that smile.

O,
my mind,
won't you meet me alone?
When the Earth's eyes close
And the valley winds blow.
To ensure,
Being clear,
That none could see nor hear
None of the throes nor fears
Reflected through shattered mirrors.
As ashamed as I am, cautious as I am aware
That,
as I am,
in this state of disrepair,
I’ve walked upon an anxious, lengthening pier,
That leads to the middle of the ocean, only to stare,
At the waves of defeat that, underneath do quake.
For still beating is my heart, so even though it aches
As the disappearance of you leaves unconsciousness in its wake,
Seeing how perilous the seas may be, to only drown in a lake,
To perhaps resurface once more in the following morn,
Is a promised hope wherein dreams dissipate forsworn

wading crests across concrete
as heat waves ripple forth,
then retreat

the colony marches against the sun,
whose arrhythmic beating of heat
was conquered by the column.

scattering and scrambling over the dead
so as not to meet them so soon,
disjointed reception of pheromones
left a sole fool mistakenly on the moon

march on, even on the moon so sharp,
even alone or through the dark,
for death’s favor is earned only in cowardice
and so painlessness becomes powerlessness
as the heat-distorted pavement stretches on

I love the sound of the highway
Filling in the void between voices,
Like a sense of insurance, a reminder
that there are always people
Out on their way somewhere.

Without so much as a care left in place,
Perhaps for reasons more spiteful than just,
The only times I feel like I’m not being forgotten
Is when I’m leaving something else in the dust

The sound of the road means there’s a place to go.
A next, a forward, but not always for me.
Of all the times in the world to not feel lost,
It’s when I’m headed nowhere in particular,
Just listening to the march forth others make.

When headlights meet street lights,
And requiescence deluges the world,
Just before silence cracks through my mind,
Comes rumbling clear the ambience of the road.

moving on to eighteen,
lost in loving a velvet
silhouette of a dream.

with hands off the world
as it open-heartedly spins
winds and rings and pearls,

delft blue skies dim down & done
leaving in the care of the night
the light refracted from the sun.

shadows blurred to one behind
closed eyes, where reality subsided,
relighting beloved falsehoods in mind:

instants of fleeting transient sparks
abscond tips of fireworks in air
with scarce care whilst piercing dark.

but alas blinding sun returns, flooding down
reality sustained, killing all sparks
without a single one extinguished.

lost in love, then loved & lost
enveloped in limits,
submitting to sunfall.

round and round and round we'd go
say you're too lost so you couldn't go
started out hot but it ended cold
believed in the lies but i should have known

flashback to my days when i still had friends
all night riding our bikes until like 10 pm
though I'm pretty sure it was all pretend
last in the game you said we could win

counting down the days,
you left just to be safe

and who is there to blame
when i was just me in the first place

how do i say i was in for the ride
when you said this was worst time in your life
now you're on your own never breaking a stride
now you mind your own, and i mind what's left of mine

never really had a proper date
never shared something to celebrate
now you got fancy schools with fancy gates
choosing me in the first place was a mistake

counting all the days
first i couldn't believe it

saying we'd still be friends
course you didn't mean it

the more it hurts the more you know
part of growing up is learning to let go
bit by bit im learning how to show
the side of my smile only you woulda known

more than months since we last talked
sometimes i wonder if i needed you after all
now we're so far you seem pretty small
but id be lying if i said i don't want you to call

counting all the stars
as a newfound past time

sometimes i reminisce
of when you were still mine
still mine

thank you summertime
for starry nights
that i can dream about without
anything eating at my mind

and
thank you violent sunshine,
the reason i never close my blinds,
for beating up my face first thing as i wake
and for telling me the time

and
thank you, gust of wind
for taking my hair for a spin
and for reminding me how nice
a slow day is, whether thick or thin

so
thank you, life
for whatever wonders i find
and for every single mosquito bite
and for every sleepless night
and for every year passed
and for every summer, more than the last

Stretched skies and vast spaces
Erase my name from society,
And mosaics, trigonometry, and fractals beneath
At my feet in time become simple and empty.

So with distance, their powers are diminished,
Finishing off the last busy thoughts to my name.
And the explicitly raw material world disconnects
objects of connection to my world and within this plane.

Shut off from the rest of the world, time wasting,
Tasting the distinct flavor of being in time out,
Awaiting a landing that may or may not be homebound,
Undrowned, within the stream of consciousness’ drought

half-feigning a convenient drowsiness,
half-closed eyes and half words shot at
a bedroom wall illuminated by early sunshine,
and it happens to be quite bright.

happened again, redoing, recurring,
an ordinary oration, a silent sermon
the same words again, a slightly different version
every morning, inside out in eversion

the wrong things again, waking up
getting out of bed, out of my head, growing up,
getting old, aging fast, coming to terms with the fact that
one’s life is only as long as one’s past

all this future-talk’s got it feeling a lot longer
And vacancy is at least not my mistake
Filling in a bubble blindly of multiple choices
Splaying multiple regrets for something’s sake.

I will wake up and grow up
But if childhood is living in the sun’s light
then what’s staying up all night to watch its rise?