Last night I dreamt of you again
Buried under oceans of our white sheets
Your fingers tracing mine,
intertwining
A prison locking our blissful incrimination
You're breathing in my ear
Each heavy whisper a gushing wind
Rattling my insides, I tremble
at the slightest touch of your skin
the feather-light burden
of your being and mine
Your burning lips marking its path as it ventures
this limp body
You stagger, you sway, you move
You drove heaven right down through the roof

And I wonder,
If like me
You spend endless nights thinking
If somewhere between your motions
Of seeing people
going places
smoking cigarettes
inhaling drugs
bitten by cold
I exist again
If in your wake
You hold the sheets tight
Or rather, my scent
suffocate yourself underneath  
So I am real again
If you try to erase me
because you wish I remained in your oblivion
Again
If you cry
and collect the tears
A currency for my return, again

The embodiment of life
thrown to the gutters.
Soaking in the filth of cigarette smoke
continuously burning;
Asphyxiating,
Choking
in twice the hell you lord upon
I know Judas
tempted, he was, by silver
But you, a different deceiver.
You spew lies
in disguise
of words that held true,
true for (your) ever long.

              A heaven I will build for you, dear
                if God shan't be real.
                
                A reincarnation, beloved
                that ends where it begins,
                
                So the abyss, my sweets
                where you exist, there I shall be;

A genius, you are
That you should give me a taste of sweet nectar
leave me enchanted
you set me steeped in burning flowers
Forever set aflame, forever longing

These birds
Do they not know rest
Why do they sing at a time as such

This heart
Does it not learn
Why does it long at a time as such

The moon
Where has it gone
It is her stage, is it not?

My thoughts
Can it not be still
Sleep, is that too much?

At this moment, not precisely, this period in time where your entire life falls into place and simultaneously breaking into ruins at the pace that it should; you’re neither happy nor sad, nor both, nor nothing at all; that feeling as though you are that repelling force between two similar-poled magnets, that infinite void; your head is a hoarder’s home – mess; yet also in complete sobriety you’re taking figurative steps into a whole new beginning every waking moment being utterly oblivious/conscious to the idea of flawed reality; you just don’t know if this is considered life, or lack thereof.

Bury me under the waves, that I may feel it pulsating, if not in my veins.

Lift  me to the clouds, that I may be rendered at peace, if not in my thoughts.

Incarcerate me in fire, that I may learn to feel, if still my frozen heart beats.

Plant me with a seed, that I may blossom through the winter chills, if I have not strength.

Above all, tell me I am real.
Be it that I am a figment of God’s imagination.

How shattered must I be before I am worthy of grace from the gods?
Before they even hear my desperate plea?
Before I am even on par with those who are on the verge of eternal rest?
Devotion to dead air

It matters, the little things
For I could care less if you brought heaven down for me
If you could hear
If not, just see
the unspoken words that I still struggle in forming

But you
you deem it void, you shrug it off
You give me no reason to comply
to the love you profess
Love me from the depths of your beating chest

but how do I trust
when you deny me my rights
you strip me off guard
pull me off my fort and ****** all my knights

have me don on a rag of shame
blunder on your senseless pride
your poor, helpless dame
bare naked

how do I hide
Defend me, I beg
For I am deathly terrified
of my own words, and my own mind

Still you say,
"No longer mine"

how far beyond the galaxies do I look
until the death
of all that we deem real is imminent;
the darkness of the universe
consumes utter entirety
that I should find fulfilment
as an insipid being
minuscule in comparison