my body is filled with cavities
little pockets of rot

it’s an open frame
where you stick your hand through
to feel nothing

i think i caught the plague
the doctor gave me pills i
spat out the window

you can’t trust anybody these days.

VVe vvrite words
to fill in the emptiness
as if they vvere concrete patches
for neglected sidevvalks
that nobody vvalks on
Carry on
D A R K  poets
Toss that alphabet
tovvards my shovel
let me bury it
forever

Lofty goals are good, I think,
For success.
But not so good, I think,
For happiness.

Because we have this idea
That if we reach,
Eventually we'll find
Where the grass is green.

But I've been reaching
For a long, long time.
And my goals have been set
Absurdly high.

And once I get there,
Which seems less than 4 years away,
I'll just stretch out my hands
To begin reaching again.

If my goals were about
Having something to feel,
Maybe one day
I wouldn't be reaching still.

I'd be holding.
I'd be keeping.

We don't need to set shorter goals.
We need to set different ones.

Ones that make us smile
Instead of yearn.
Ones that are more about learning
Than what we need to learn.

Change will come,
And we shouldn't forget our dreams,
But as life moves on,
We should remember what it means.

We need to do less of
Shooting for the stars,
And start feeling the beauty
Of standing where we are.

The thing I like most about November,
It's that it's easier to let go than to remember.

But if I've learned anything from October,
It's that even relentless things can be over.

And if I know anything about September,
It's that love is an ever burning ember.

Or if I know anything about August,
It's that your eyes are flawless.

Yet if I know a thing or two about July,
It's that true love never dies.

And if I know about June,
It's that things can never start up too soon.

If there's anything I know of May,
It's that the cruel shall perish and pay.

If I know of April,
It's that people can grow to be hateful.

If there were something I knew of March,
It's that death's scythe claims a cruel arch.

But if I know of February,
It's that frost kisses my heart like butterflies kiss fairies.

And if I know a thing or two about January,
It's that I fear no fire, and that should make you wary.

And I know anything at all about December,
It's that the smallest memory will make your heart dismembered.

Though what I love most about November,
It's that I'm so glad you remember.

And whether you be near to me,
Or far is where you have to be,
I am here to stay,
Because even if there's a thousand miles between us,
I'm looking your way.

I get it

I cry
Not for me
But for you
Can't you see?
You left; I don't blame you
I blame me

I get it

There's bigger and better things
Out there than silly ol' me
There always has been
Always will be

I get it

I'm that answer on the test
You know the one; letter c
Everyone knows it's wrong
Because it's so silly
It's so obvious
Only the poor fool who didn't study
Would choose it and I'm not the right 1
He thought I'd be

I get it

I'm not wanted
I'm unnecessary
I could dissapear in a flash
And it would be easy

I get it

The world stopped moving
When they have up on me
For them, it will keep going
When I give up on me.


Get it?

The time period between being awake and being asleep
This mystical place that so little beings remember:

It's the place that I could live in for the rest of my life
For it is neither reality or a dream
A time that is neither dark nor light
Neither good or bad
The world of in between
Everything is neutral
It is the world of calmness
Nothing to worry
Nothing to be afraid of

It's the only place I can find solace
The place without sadness and loneliness
But also free of the nightmares
Undisturbed by the morbid images my mind creates
And untouched by the anxiety, loneliness, and pain of this cruel world
A place where no person can take me away from
A place where no creature can lay a claw on me
Gates between consciousness and unconsciousness
Guard this place of sanctuary

I would like to stay here,
This, I would want to make my home
But waking is too demanding
And sleeping is too necessary

I wish my home would be Hypnagogia
A place where you never sleep
You never wake
And you never dream

EYE
       ARE
               ART



                         ART
                                 ARE
                                         EYE

Oh such inspiration, such brilliance. Art still lives in my words