Seize my strength
For the first
Seize my worth
For the hundredth

Why must I crave 
What I despise
Why must you hate
What you realize

A phlebotomy is always at risk
You mustn't always fight my kiss

Timidness is not wisdom
The wise approach with openness
Caution is not wisdom
The wise remain brave, unmoved by fear
Entire and entirely

You are an atmosphere
Enveloping my mind
You are my atmosphere
Entire and entirely
No escape

I am free
Why do you still seep into me?

When you’re accustomed to darkness
You’re used to monotony
You’re used to redundance
You’re used to nothing

You hear of the outside world
You hear of its joys
You hear of its wonders
You hear of its plights

“Come on out” they say
“We won’t hurt you”
Little callings to show you something new
Or is it just to hurt me?

“What are friends? Do they bite?
Is it edible? Is it necessary?”
Questions I’m asking to seemingly no one
But a voice keeps beckoning to me

“Come out and see the wonders you miss
The energy of human beings
The warmth of the sun
The beauty of the world”

I’ve never been enticed this much before
Closer and closer do I inch out
My mind is saying “this is a bad idea”
My gut is saying “can’t hurt to try”

So.. I’m finally out
This isn’t so bad
I could get used to thi—
honk *crash

With porcelain hands,
She holds the stars of heaven,
With which she draws lines so heavy,
So blackened and bold,
Even the strongest fall at sight,
Her tears are heavy rain,
That drown every soul in range,
Flooding hearts and minds,
With the dark oceans of her thoughs,
Washing out the sunshine and smiles,
Bringing only sorrow and despair,
All beauty is overwhelmed by her tragedy,
With her, there is nothing but the hollow sunrise,
Barely shining beyond the infinite horizon

i'm tired of writing poems about love
sometimes i'm tired of love
but there's no running from it
only rinsing and repeating
crying and leaving
cutting and healing
dying and living

maybe someday I'll give a ****
and write something with substance

or maybe I'll keep the ****
so I can have something in abundance

and maybe I'll quit this ****
as a "*******" to redundance

nah

super novas
seeding flowers
a woman's powers
late night hours
falling towers
jehovah jehovah
these flowers are novas

food of abundance
feeling redundance
riddled with frustrated rage

pretending to love me
wire above me
confined to a small metal cage

no longer sing
a song on a wing
natural envirioment gone

free as a bird
these words are absurd
in prison, and done nothing wrong

Once upon a time, the sunrise evoked unfathomable bliss
Now the eyes have become pensive and all it sees is the somber sunset
And once upon a time, soft kisses on skin from raindrops were loved
But all that is left is the memories of destruction left by thunderstorms

Honeyed declarations sauntered into your ears like a beautiful symphony
Displays of affections were like picturesque art preserved in the finest museums
Once upon a time, their combination was nothing but sublime
Until the words dissipated and all turned to ashes

Jovial tunes congested the thin still air
The orchestra had a heart and the heart was an orchestra
Once upon a time there was an influx of songs
But now all that remains is redundance, redundance of chords, lachrymose chords

Once upon a time, poems were spring flowers sprouting from the healthy earth
Once upon a time, pens bled profusely and ink etched the unspoken on alabaster papers
But the earth has gone dry, and the ink has gone dry
Despite all the tears, all has gone dry

I observe, without seeing it the discourse of history in my blood
Hear it, feel its silent speech, its frantic rush, and its inner dialogue
Like a hidden undercurrent coursing through all my veins
The inner space of speech, the redundance of images
A sympathetic attunement to the dimensions of words
That is the medium of my new translation
A new complete language, now, for the first time accompanies my thoughts.
My body is already loaded with the nuclear impulse of an outcast
Demanding a proliferation of attentions, seeking the androgynous coupling of opposites
A fascination showers me I become bewildered by my own questioning
Study my nakedness in the mirror seeking to replace it with something else
I am about to reverse the process of viewing the world, confuse my sensory responses
Challenge all with a double, I wish to distort and destabilize
To divide between mental image and physical reality
This gives me immense pleasure

Life is labour.
All is entropy.
From the moment
we're born,
we decay.
We must feed
to renew,
we must breathe
to energise.
We strive to prolong a life
we never asked for,
living inside a machine
needing constant maintenance
against built-in redundance.
What an existence!

Hesitation.
Poetic thoughts to merely strangle an
Otherwise undeveloped expression.
Chaos- dripping profusely from an
Endless flow of illusion.
Imagination? Is this real?
But the good is
SO
Good...
Inspiration.
Claw at the temptation to be
Different.
Something else.
Real.
Because maybe then reality
Could actually make some sense.
But still can't get over the thrill
Of existence
Being nonexistent.
Because it's
So ******* good
To feel unreal.
Why should anything matter-
When nothing is affecting
Anything.
But, knowing, knowledge-
That **** is scary.
Because how can anyone know?
Jesus Christ, the "nothingness" just ******* kills me.
The screaming is melting my brain tissues
And inside my head is just
Black, static sick of explaining the
Discomfort in my head.
Sick of rambling cheap obscurities-
Verbally littering on this ****** up planet
One "word" at a time.
Who the hell cares??
Because
No one
Cares.
Ignorance is considered cherrishable
Because we don't have the *****
To accept reality-
At least maybe I'm just weak.
So why does it even matter?
Redundance- it gets so ******* old.
Feel like something fresh-new-breathable
Could expand at least an experience or two.
Yet it gets so catchy to
Rage warfare on one's self.
****, cause the taste
Is exceptionally harsh.
Texture is only an effect based on perception.
Still, everything is in
Retrograde inversion,
Like my old composition homework assignments-
Only less classy,
And without genius direction.
**** the misunderstanding, man.
That **** will mess with your mind.
But I am in love
With hating to feel,
And everything in between and
Opposite that.
And I couldn't explain anything,
To even give you an idea of what its like.

I want to laugh right now...belly laugh until my muscles ache...I want to jump through puddles...the ripples danceing around my ankles...I want to  run down hillsides...the air tugging at  my skirt like a restless lover...I want to feel the kiss of an ocean breeze on my face...the salty air dancing across my lips...I want to feel the warmth of skin against mine...wrapping me within a blanket of epidermal bliss...I want to go within myself and stay a while...exploring my humanity  and coming face to face with my own existence...I want to kick and scream and cry with reckless abandonedment until my cavernous soul falls limp from exhaustion...I want to touch my face...eyes closed... and view myself without the boundaries of expectation...of redundance...of normalcy...I want to see myself in a different way...a different light...a different scope...

underflown
and overflowing,
stripped,
returned,
renewed

truthings spied
redundance plied,
her habit's
gone.
Unclued.

her heart is clear,
now I'm the fear,
how weakly
I
have proved

that what is right,
rarely sits beside
what is
easily
left to do