Every time I close my eyes
I see a face,
clear and perfect. Yet

ever changing
like a memory
fading and morphing.

I don't know this face,
who they are or
where they're from.

Why they're in my head.

And at night, those
images morph themselves into dreams,
and I see her again;

her lost blurry eyes
in search of something
they can't find.

And then,
in a brief moment of clarity
they meet mine

and I somehow feel
found again, like a piece
of my soul has been given back.

Every time I try my hardest to hold on,
desperate to stay there with her,
scared of waking up lost.

Sometimes I think
she's just another lost
lonely soul

in search of
an old friend
who she's known forever.

Sometimes I think
she's out there
wandering the world

and that maybe
with some patience and luck
I'll meet her one day.

Forget the seasons
Their flavors hold no inherent meaning
Manufactured frostbite
Fleeting
Overpaid cosmeticians mask our ugly dealings
How cripplingly demeaning

Forget the seasons
Their flavors still hold no real meaning
Amputated tree limbs
Seating
Underpriced prostitution builds translucent ceilings
How cripplingly demeaning

Was it worth the price of heaven?
To view angels as the demons
To build a sulfur kingdom far away from sheepish bleating
Though joyful sound resounds around the fallen flock I've found, I cannot make a sound that permeates when I'm not bleeding.

Take your trivial differings draw, them up in stippling and call it meaningfully crippling.