Oh, and darling
If you asked
for water
I'd bring you the ocean

I remember you when you were fifteen.
Holding your first cigarette between your manicured nails and smiling at the moon.
And through the years
I've seen you spend most of your time trying to escape your thoughts until six in the morning
With a book and a cat
The two things you called the greatest loves of your life.
I've seen you walk down flowery paths with the sun in your eyes
And through darkened forests, wondering desperately where the sun had gone.
I've heard you talk about death and God, your favourite whiskey and your dog. About the most shallow and mundane of events, and the deepest of philosophies.
And I see you now
In your plaid shirts and lace-up boots,
Trying to hide your face in your hair
Calmly turning away every chance at love you find
Searching desperately for distraction
In a gram of ******* and the pen and paper sitting by your bedside.

i make my bed
four times a year
because when the blankets
are on correctly
it's not easily accessible
to wear as a cape.

and i sometimes wish that
i could get out of my
own
******
head
and open up enough
to love someone
else for once.

i sometimes spray more
perfume on my
pajamas than my
dresses it's not
aromatherapy but sometimes
i calm down.

sometimes i manage to
forget
about these
disturbing
thoughts
just
reverberating
through my mind.

and sometimes i just
fall apart
but sometimes i pull
myself together.

today is the sum
of those times.

If I start to write a poem, will I finish it this time
Or will I give up midway through, because there aren't enough rhymes
In this old dreadful, awful language born of brutal feudal swine
Wearing wigs and pantaloons, and saying words like 'thee' and 'thine'?

If I have a hazy thought, will I succeed in making clear,
That murky bit of intuition felt, or will it disappear,
The minute I put ink to paper and begin to toy around
With all the scattered bits of insight that implicitly abound?

If I find myself inspired all the sudden by a muse,
Will she hastily retire before I can spread the news
Of all her wondrous gifts to me, that I so luckily did capture
In a transcendental state of exaltation, joy, and rapture?

If I have a vivid vision, flowing freer than the stream
Of a river, clear as crystal, and as dazzling as a dream
Will my will be of such power that I'll succeed to convey
It, or just fall flat in defeat and then retreat into dismay?

If I see sumptuous fruits that hang atop the mighty tree
That's down the road of human intellect and creativity
Will my reach extend sufficiently to gather them and bring
Them back into...into... oh, **** it! I can't think of anything.

                                                (╯°□°）­╯︵ ┻━┻

there are hours before bed
i think i'll turn in now instead
i think i'll burn instead

Oh, i'am dragonborn
The slayer of dragons
The wanderer in the dark.

I travel from quest to quest
To seek for a purpose in this world.

Oh, i'am dragonborn
Lost in the dungeons
Freezing in the cold winter winds.

Oh, i'm dragonborn.