it's true that the more poems i wrote
the more women i made feel uncomfortable.
sometimes this made me cry: it's tragic, after all,
when people don't recognise greatness.
and i am privileged to have been witness
to my tears
and the algae their oceans bloom,
and the violence of understanding so luminous
that i keep my vision black
for fear of what might
come to light in the shadow of my eye.

i think someone once told me
that i'm a good listener.
i've never heard what i wanted said.
don't forget me,
i never follow my own advice.

i find myself in some of the empty rooms
of my soul, and shout:
what are you doing?! it's mysterious outside!

i couldn't keep a cool head
and now the ice caps are doomed
which means the rainforests are doomed
which means the ocean algae is doomed
which means the permafrosts will melt
which means we're all doom bound.
of course, given Man, we're on course to be early.

the echo full halls
of my historicity are painted
with disaster
and haunted by the light
of a collapsing star.

there's always a lot playing on my mind
and i never really want tomorrow to arrive.

these depressive episodes have been put on a playlist
and set to repeat. the screen has our attention hostage.
i leave my sleep to the genesis of sunlit dreams
and let it eat the majority of day.
already sick of my share of time;
force fed countless pointless hours
of whining, pining or hiding
by my own hand that i'm biting,
and platefuls of pressure and fake faces
that i ***** behind;
binging on escapes destined to forsake me,
guzzling my own requiems to the potential for strength;
but i'm getting ahead of myself.

we share the shelter
of my lonely head.
so much to do.

my body is a temple
desecrated.
sacrificing commitments
to addictions.
such a repugnantly reactive creature.

there's a child somewhere inside of me
and he's crying his eyes out.

he annoys me so much
that i locked him away alone in a dark room.
i didn't actually lock the door,
i just told him i'm locking it
and he's too timid to be defiant
and too weak to lift a body laden with freedom.
so i just told him he's staying in that room
and i told myself to set the structure on fire.

there's a child somewhere inside of me
and he's crying his eyes out.
his incessant tears have waterlogged the entire tomb
while outside lie monuments of drought.

in search of
blue mountains,
sun hidden.