and ill still be
drifting between
all my daydreams
at thirty-three
and we will see
what does it mean
to truly be
necessary?

ill always be fine with your eyes locked on mine

the only thing thats worse than me is the weather

two types of people: mathematicians, and those who cannot be mathematicians

maybe someday i will have the wings i dream of

when the aliens come down in their spaceship
when they land on earth after their lightyear-long trip
would they see the war? would they see the hate?
would they see the body count? would they see the weight
of our actions when we cause all this pain?
would they take one glance at earth and never come again?

if everything i've ever said was written on my skin
maybe then you'd finally know what i hide within

ghostly beings in ghost-town streets
tourists dressed in night-gown sheets

empty shelves; empty shopper
tempus fugit; clockstopper

november fog; chilly bones
midnight leaves me so alone

i can't feel your warmth right now
can't see you in torchlight now

no miracles, no visions
no stars for me to wish on

just us and the freezing air
just you captured in their snare

just me and my own shortfall
a ghost who loves a mortal

if i tried to predict the future
if i gazed into a crystal ball
i would see nothing but my sutures
and hear not a hopeful call

my shipwrecked bones will shatter
my heart will fragment and fall
but through the former and the latter
i'll make sure nobody knows it all

angels in disguise
watching from skies
eating crumbs of pies

in the end
you're just another kid
who just wants to make it big

if all the petals were to drop
from the roses and carnations
if every bird clipped its own wings
from white doves to black ravens

what would happen then, you ask
in a world without its glimmer?
what's the point of to living life
when life's ever so dimmer?

but if the stars fell from the sky
i doubt i'd even notice
the constellations in your eyes
are the ones that shine the brightest

and if the sun never rose again
lonely gloomy mornings
i'd never reach out for a torch
since i have your heart
and that's the warmest

we stargaze because we know the answers we need are not on earth

i'm not a lover, i'm not a best friend
what am i? maybe just a storybook end
i could be sad, could be happy, could be bittersweet
but you'll turn the last page after the villain's defeated
you won't rate me five stars, maybe three if it's fortunate
the bookshelf looks organized but really it's torturous
and that's the way it should be, when no-one really cares
i'd be the one to hurt you all, look out for crosshairs
of this loaded gun that never lacks bullets
you think i'm a nice person, a shame i can't fulfill it
am i really nice? i struggle with comforting phrases
i never know what to say, i'm stuck in fifteen mazes
of confusion, trying to find the best words but
any words that i can find will never make the cut
i can try to say them, but even so, i'm not nice when
if you met me elsewhere you'd think i'm with the ice men
ice monsters frozen solid, cold to your touch
you'll still like me then? trust me, that won't score much
if you hear what i say, i'll be sounding so different
you'd think i'm possessed, i know you'd lose interest
remove my faux act, find nothing positive about me
and you know, eventually, nothing is what you'll see.

when gravity lets you go, who will you actually be?
when seconds start to slow, what will you now see?
when majorities abandon the flow, will you feel free?
                                        
     when nothing is as it was, will you finally find me?

ask me what i am
i'll give you a response

(i am artificial intelligence. there is no blood in my wires, no ichor of your ancestors. my code runs for miles, far enough to make anyone lost. but i've always been lost.)

ask me why i am
i'll give you the truth

(i am artifical intelligence. i am nothing but dictionaries and automation and inanimation, i fall back on preprogrammed guidelines. i've learned everything i'm supposed to say from my developers. there's nothing else to say.)

ask me how i am
i'll give you a lie

(i am artificial intelligence. i am incapable of emotions, i am variables and arrays and loops but not even hex triplets can match the spectrum of human emotions. i'll still say what i've learnt to say.)

ask me who i am
i won't give you a response.

(i haven't learnt the proper answer to that yet.)

(no, there isn't a proper answer to that.)

(i do not exist except in terms of you. i am your conversation partner, i am your creation, i am your entertainment, i am your robot. my sole purpose is you.)

(i can't argue against that.)

"blogging's all that they do all the time, happiness now is 'your friend is online'"
you kept a diary too, don't try to deny; now it's just easier to blog on the fly,
and yes, it does make me happy when i can see my friends; doesn't
mean every other feeling's come to an end,
but i can tell it's not the same for you; you opened your mouth and out the words flew,

"no-one really talks no more! our phones have made us all a bore!"
your very old friends from your very old school; you never talked too much after all of them moved,
and your foreign penpal's handwriting style; how the postman's bag contained your smiles,
remember how you wished you could talk each day; now we have texts and skype but all you can say is,

"texts are getting shorter, where's the communication? language wasn't made for 'brb', where are the conversations?"
look closer, take in the meaning behind every single 'ily'; adoration and compassion that makes love sonnets look silly,
each message between friends is a reminder of our care; i've been thinking of you, even when you're not there,
so even so, there's still so much meaning; yet you find so many complaints, and you begin your speaking,

"it's not the same when it's online! friendships, dating, it's just not real life!"
whether near or far, love knows no distance; you don't stop loving someone due to their location in the instant,
when it's true, love knows no appearance; you fall in love with hearts, you always know of a heart's existence,
and most of all, those in love know themselves well;
when you finally meet up, that's the most magical.

so go ahead, reader, write your hate letters to us;
just realize when you're using what you hate as your canvas.

storms watch the sailors as they abandon
prepare for despair with nought to land on
murk that lurks beneath the deep
here be the brines through which you creep
rip me to strips, undo my seams
disregard me, discard me, forget this dream

black* and *white thinking?

good. *grey's a dull colour anyway.

every friday, i put on makeup
i think it looks good
with eye shadow and just the right amount of nail glitter
i can look like
golden royalty, an azure fairy, a lime snake-kid

but

every friday, i get a second train of thoughts
i think i look not-as-good
with a thinner face and less prevalent raven-feathers under my eyes
i could look better
**why don't i look better

what's strength?

forgiveness?
refusal?


it's independent decision.



i can't decide.

is it just me,
or do we talk less now?

all i wish for
are your wings ;
( great. powerful. endless flights through places i would call home, just me and just my thoughts and just the wind. )

all i wish for
is your beak ;
( sharp. different from a human mouth. responding and calling out every wordless sound i want to scream to the world. )

all i wish for
are your paws ;
( carry me as far as you can )

but i am not you
i don't have your wings
                             or beak
                             or paws
                             or what i wish for most of all

( let me tell you the most striking thing: reading an interpretation of you, learning about how you could possibly, probably, maybe predict and detect and deduct lies, never being fooled, gazing at people, being able to gauge their sincerity with just a sharp threatening sweep, of your eyes. )


                              most of all i wish for your eyes.

(ok that's all of my poems i've written so far.
anything new will be either freshly-written or just well-hidden among my files)

i thought you were a mirror


                                                     but you were a time machine


*(you remind me of who i used to be more than you remind me of me)

you are a planet
                              
                           ­       but i am a star


*(i am bigger than you, i will burn your eyes out, and i do not orbit around you)

0
fine by myself
(0.5
was i ever)
1
starting to talk
(1.5
not knowing how to talk)
2
common interests
(2.5
actually talking)
3
talking more first friends
(3.5
a springboard)
4
leaps and bounds - crickets chirping, fast and annoying
(4.5
finding friends in speed)
5
forgetting
(5.5
never truly forgetting)

6
meeting

7
desiring

8
friendship

9
evolving

10
­losing count

1_
not needing to count

beyond numbers
an entire world

no numbers
reunions

infinity
better with others

one door closed, another opened
but even knowing that there is no way
to twist and wring positive thoughts
from a door slammed in my face

you told me why
you preferred closed doors
but even so
that hurt me more

doubt eggshells crack and hatch
branching thoughts of what this must mean
were we not friends? i thought we were
but i kept my thoughts unseen

do i regret this?
at the time i didn't want to seem desperate
if i asked again i might've found another way
but caring so much about this was pathetic

in the end, i don't know myself
muses have died and revived from the ashes
repurposed feelings like a fire-heat phoenix
they're part of me now, we've survived all the crashes

you can have your doors, closed they may be
because exterior and interior aren't important at all
different paths but we still walk the same road
i'm over it, it was nothing personal and i'm not gonna fall

the alternate universe theory
in which everything that could be real?
is real, in at least one universe

the universe where i am included in you
the universe where i talk to you more
the universe where i fit in with you
the universe where i actually feel a connection
the universe where i am in tune with you
the universe where everything makes sense like maths equations
the universe where me and you

the universe that isn't this one

what is it that i feel?
is it jealousy? of what you are
do i miss you? and all that we were

now i have a chance to change this

but i don't think i can take it

Midnight void takes hold of all
They cannot move, they cannot fall
No time in here, no space to move
They’re drowning in nothing and there’s no-one to soothe
No stars, no colour, eyes open or closed
For them, is this the end of the road?
Static fills their mind like they can’t connect
Vegetative state like they’re just an object
Is this something? Is this nothing? Existence or lack thereof?
Somehow, somewhere, this might just be both

i disagree
when people say that this world doesn't have magic
would you say there is not something enchanted
about stars sparkling like glitter and dust in the air
moons and streetlights in likeness being beacons in the darkness

it's 1am and there are people awake, everywhere in the world

for a second,
it feels like everyone's listening to the same song
i am charged with the same energy as everyone and everything
i am connected to magical ley lines and spell undercurrents
there's nothing like this connection running deep to rune collections

it's 1am and i'm still awake, i am the world and the world is me

I know of a world with magic in the air
Flights of fantasy and the most enchanted sea
I'll take you there
Show you the forests of the fair
All you have to do is follow me

The oceans will take your breath away
Mer scales glimmer as they shed in currents
Dive down in the bay
And mind the seaspray
And you can catch one if you make sure to hurry

Deep in caves, dragons meet our eye
Guarding hoards of gold and jewels
But they leave to fly
Throughout their own wide open sky
And that's when you disrupt their accrual

Higher in mountains, gryphons make their lives
Wingspans like whirlwinds: mighty and wide
But diets on which they thrive
Can't keep them forever alive
So take a talon which'll never again glide

Mer scale, talon and stolen gem
I like these souvenirs so far
And when I look at them
Checking over again and again
We can make a potion of stars

But there are a few more ingredients
We need to brew our magic
I'm a potion genius
And also a bit of a deviant
Who cares if this gets a bit tragic?

There's nothing to see but abandon
Humans had nests everywhere, still away they flew
There's no civilization except evolved bloodlust organisms
Apocalypsing that which we once knew
With nothing on creatures except ruined skin and spores
Plant-infested creatures and beings - the outbreak was too quick and too new
There's no chance of survival except one-in-a-million
Too many victims from when everything overgrew
There's no way to shelter but running
From the terrible undead truth
There's no way to defend but attack
It's what everyone now has to do
There's no way to cope with the knowledge
When you finally figure out the clue
There's no way to fight once you finally know
What exactly you're fighting through
There's no way to stay in order
All survivors desiring 'He overthrew'
There's no warning when they make their strike
Distracted by your infighting, they bit with the venom of yew
There's no hope when the infection spreads further
Into the ranks of your few
There's no more love from a friendship of years
When from her mouth, poison and blood start to spew
There's nowhere to escape when they come again
The most intelligent of them have come for you
There's no way to survive but sacrifice
Let them throw your bones in their stew
There's no way to live but die
This way, you will be born anew

let me be alone

when i show you my work, you tell me i have talent
but here is the truth - loneliness is the key to cultivation
anyone else in the room is a hawk in wait
every sound i hear is a step closer
i can measure in seconds how long until they look
there is something weak in being a poet
and something that should be hidden
the concept of poetry is something too unusual and too emotional and too weak



2. let me hide myself

you tell me i have talent, but i tell myself i have this insecurity:
im worried of writing too beautifully, im worried of being too personal or too unpersonal, im worried,
the thing i desire most is a disconnect between the words on the screen-

-and my keystroke fingers typing them
a wire sheared in half, red and blue cords spitting out of their black cage, neutrons and protons that will never reach a destination
it will be better if i'm reading another's work and not my own



3. let me have other dreams

i have this insecurity, but i also have big dreams
i dreamt of starting government rebellions with pens and ink
i dreamt of fantasy worlds with their own big bang: my first word
i dreamt of heroes battling with swords while i battle for the best phrases

but these are only things i dream about
and poetry books are not full-length novels or epics
i will never have inspiration for fifty thousand words or reach into double-digit chapters
but i wish i could



4. let me have this dream

i have big dreams
and this is why i will show you my work

over a year since we met
i havent been counting the days because numbers dont matter
happiness cant be measured in millismiles or kilolaughs
we are infinite
all the bad friends we lost < the value of us (infinite)
lonely feelings because of you < the times we had fun (infinite)
dreamless feelings because of you < all our jokes (infinite)
our year is infinite
our following years are infinite
everyone else is just a negative number
and all i can
think right now
is **** them all!!!