keep pouring into me
your fears
the shadows that haunt you
your pain
the bags that break your back
pour into me
i am just a vessel
for you to shed your skin
as to pretend to be anew again

but be wary that i’ve sat
with this heaviness for so long
that gunpowder rests in me
i am your gun, ready to load
and if you cut me too close
im bound to explode

and then the two bananas fought
about which one bends more
together waiting to get bought
at the grocery store

"my bend is like a perfect smile
I’m peoples favourite type"
said the first one all the while
waiting to get ripe

"but mine like a rainbow bends"
said the other one
"signalling the rain now ends
and welcoming the sun"

and as i both bananas peeled
and with enjoyment ate
there suddenly the truth revealed
it's not fun being straight

From Autumn to spring
the days go on, never stop
‘till your year is done.

I am well acquainted with Sad.
We have performed a waltz or two,
perhaps a Pas de Deux.
And I thought I liked Sad-
but I suppose that's purely from habit.
And nothing can, nor will compare
to the ecstasy that Anger brings.

Throw me to the sharks
and let me see how the beast
inside of you thinks

6:09 PM
9/7/19

Is a dream I can’t have.

He said she was "she"
He said he loves "she"
He said he adores "she"

She says he was "he"
She says she loves "he"
She says she adores "he"

But why does she says
and he said?
Is she really "she"
and he is really "he?"

She and he were bounded by a red string
She and he were fated with lingering
attachments to a "he" and "she"
really, they were meant to be

Bounded by fate and destiny
That...they can see
a knot of friendship
only "them" can unleash

Bounded by fate and destiny
not by love and intimacy
but by morale and respect,
and friendship so unwrecked

He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come