Skull etched of flowers
Bones white as snow
You fell in love with the marrow
Listened to the mouth that told you to go

Repetitive are your words, your ways
Many creations helping convey
To be truthful, it all means the same

Go to her
Don't listen to that mouth
Speak, "Home is where you are"
I didn't fall in love in the South

Candle brims and faint light
Let it keep you alive
Fall in love with the passing night
It's acceptable to dream up your deaths
These potential slumbers won't bring rest

I wish I slept
and dreamt of lanterns in grass
Everything in my view is on fire
Full of abiding, dangerous desire

It's not my pulse that's pounding
My passion is what's thriving
I hammer the beauty so forcefully
I should recognize this morbidity
To my being it's life,
not the finale
It's the soft breaths you take involuntarily
Peaceful.

I hope death holds this illumination.

Gray is so deathly
I watched it all, blood red
From tires you bring guilt
You deliver them no reprieve
From the window,
you look much sweeter
Down on the pavement,
you couldn't make hell any deeper
You're still half beautiful though
Every breathing lung disagrees
Your ***** blood is all you have to show
I won't recite you stories, you're dead
Just bury this in your non-existent grave
I ponder upon your disintegrating- I'll think
I amend the vultures that choose your corpse
You'll have that home you wanted
Even if it's for a little while

I found the cure,
but I'm not so pure
You'll have to bear with me
as I fall deeper, deeper.

We laugh about the mermaids in the sea
I laugh but you don't think you're funny
We'll draw koalas,
and go on walks for hours.

Guess I'll be postponing December's reconstructive surgery
There's nothing like being delayed from your own burglary
It had potential too, well maybe if it wasn't so ruthful
I'll still tentatively deem it as successful
I started to shed the lingering fatigue
I began to think of my completed protocols
Triggered the realization I need the reconstruction after all

I've grown tired of this
surreal, trying-to-run-underwater paralysis
My thoughts will not expire,
even though I harshly insist
It's time to redirect my energy back to the war
The one I began waging over two years ago
I'll keep struggling against this innuendo
All for the hope to destroy my incoherency
Yet somehow still possess my secrecy

There is common ground between the seasons and I
Stages of everything going conclusively awry
Undergoing this divine metastasis
I view it as lacking the act of being courageous
And being even farther of described as spontaneous
But I never berated a late afternoon in September
Especially the absurd image of even knowing it was a possibility
I hope in a decade or so I will remember
Every one of these disjointed thoughts
As rapid as hummingbird wings I'll soon miss December