Art is
  Pain.
        Pain is
    Art?

M: "Thats my favorite tree, the one with the weird branches." (arms)

L: "Oh, the one without a head?."

M: "Yeah."

If you have to ask if something is a poem

Then, yes

It is probably a poem.


And if not,
Then it is now.

That is a poem.
I make(̶m̶a̶d̶e̶) it so.
I think, therefore i am.

It is.

Paper dreams
Im the fiend.

Among the thoughts inside my head
You tiptoe through and head to bed.

Oh, the dread.
It eats away all night and day.
No keeping it at bay for i have no say.

I never really did. Lead to believe i had a foot in the door but what more, what a bore. The things in store. A blink and a breath later and its in my mouth.

Bitter words and acid truth. The lies taste as sweet as they smell fresh from my oven.

Aroma carried far in the breeze. Pollinating your thoughts and breeding my children.

I live on through them. And yet they are false.

And so the question remains.
Am i still here?

Breath. collected yet irregular.
As if im walking through the air.
With you, I have no care.
Have you realized how special you are?
To me, with you, the storms are a breeze, the oceans-- at ease. No sunburns to be found, feet planted on the ground.
                With you around, all I get is
                                sun-kissed.

I dont know why im like this. I talk in riddles and i move in puzzles. Sorry.

You cant. And you wont. Ever get over me.

You know that, right?? Because i know it. I feel it. So you must feel it to. Its like its always been. I am yours and you are mine. Whether we both know it or not. We've got a piece of eachother and im holding on till death do us part.

I dont care. In the best and worst of ways.

You may be bad for me right now.

But ill wait forever until you are good.

You are so *******
Cute. I just want to cuddle,
No, melt into you.

You-- just so fuckkin
Soft. I want to caress you.
Tongue gliding across

Skin. I just want you.
Admit how much you want me.
I could rock your world.

youre such a bitter person. have you
always been this bitter or did I do
this to you? Im so sorry. And I cant
say it enough. And I say it way too
****** much. My heart misses yours.
I miss your smell. your touch. your
laugh. your goofy *** faces. I miss
you. I miss your everything. All of it.
The anger, the crazy, the delusion.

                    you.
                                are everything to me.

Heartbeat quickening, I weight each decision in my head. "**** it", my head responds. I gently hold your head between my hands. I let you stare into my eyes questioningly before I bring our mouths unto eachother. Finding your lips is one of the single hardest and easiest things ive ever done.

The cold seeps through you
Into you
You become
The cold
You are cold.
It is not your fault
Impossible.
How can you be to blame
For a world that was already
Way too cold
To begine with.

Humans are like plants. We need water and we need sun.

When all the right conditions are met, a plant will thrive

But if there is too much or too little of any one element, a plant will suffer ill consequence.

Balance.

This is too much. Things are calm. And i need chaos. I can breathe when your close.

And its almost suffocating.

**** its going to hurt to break your heart.

Ive fallen again. And i cant stop falling. Why do i keep getting up.

Why must i be so stubborn.

Am i stuck in my own way or do i know exactly what i need? And its just that noone else can see that?


Its almost as if i love the fall. Relish in the breaking of it all. Trust in the nothing...

At around exactly 3 in the afternoon. After my mom found my birth certificate, i grabbed it and now im holding onto it myself. Its hard to trust people who dont trust you. Family has always been hard for me. Ever since 'the incident'. I think thats what did it. Thats what threw me overboard. But to me, as a kid, i thought i was just swimming. I didnt realize that everyone was on a boat slowly drifting farther and farther away from me. Or was i the one drifting away from them. Well. Now i know. Im older. I know better. Not the best-- but better. I realize how hard it is to tread water so while trying to keep myself afloat, im also trying to build a boat in which to make my whole life so much easier. There are sharks in these waters. Its nothing personal. Sharks gotta eat. And im tasty if i do say so myself. Blood sweet and thick enough to be confused for syrup. So. I have to work fast. I started too late. Im always late. Not much time left, i have to put all of my effort into this device. Lest i drown and my story ends all too soon.

I am maybe a bit too sweet. Some may say over compensating. Its a mistake really. Long pour a second too long.

I am meant to be bitter. I should be bitter. I am supposed to be.

And yet here i am.
Like a delightening tea wrapping my warmth around the inside of your throat.

And you love it.
And you cant get enough.
Sometimes im sorry that im so good.
But maybe most times i am not.

I WOULD LIKE TO WRITE OF ANGELS AND GOD BUT IF ONLY I KNEW THEM.
YOU SEE, IM NOT A VERY ADAMANT BELIEVER, NOR HAVE I EVER BEEN.
WHO IS THIS  BIG MAN IN THE SKY DRESSED IN WHITE SUPPOSED TO BE ANYWAYS? AND WHY DOES HE HAVE COMMAND OF ALL THESE MAGICAL WINGED SERVANTS ANYWAYS??

Im sitting here drinking the only liquor that I've ever seen her get
Listening to the song that I showed him that correlates to everything about us and our time together. I want to get away but i don't feel like moving.
I want to cry but I can barely bring myself to feel a̶n̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ a ****** thing. And then, thinking of all the things that I'd like to change in my life, for the life of me, I cant figure out h̶o̶w̶ where (when?) to begin.

Am hurting and cold.

And thinking, "maybe i shouldnt share and check feelings for a while again."

Take a little break.

They didn't want to know me.

They just wanted me to be okay.

And I was not okay.

Spiders in my head,

Spiders in my bed.

In my clothes and in my head.
In my life, i must be dead.

Under my skin, cant itch them away.
Everywhere, wont let me free.

I try to run, i dont get far.
These spiders crawl, they set new bars.

Through the hoops, i try to run.
In front of me bite one by one.

"Youre just like us, why cant you see?
Theres no escape, we wont let you be."

They try and try, i try again.
I look for comfort in a friend.

My friends they cry, they cry for me.
Much good it does, i pay the fee.

Its me alone with my spider friends.
They wish me luck till we meet again.

Want to rip my hair out. And cry. And drink.

Whats even wrong.

Did He spur this?


Its been so long, i can bearly remember what it feels like.


Do i want to feel it again?

Id see that
the remnants
of what once
was fiery blaze
Has now
seemed
to have been smothered.
I would notice
that
there was no movement
on the once
lively log.
That
the home
of the once
peaceful ants
was now
quiet,
empty,
no more.
A mere shell
and
a ghost
of once used to be.

I would see
this.
And without a thought,
i would
once again
set the log ablaze.

Id light the fire.
And id see
the ants
that might have
slept
through
the first calamity,
And i would wish them the best.

You make me feel things.
Be my lover, be my heart.
I just adore you.

"This is your home now."
    Pft, yeah, *******.
Yeah, sure, I live here.
    Lived. I had a key.
It's where I went to sleep
    every night.

"Home."
I have no home.
What a silly joke.
What a cruel fate.
Oh, woe is me, eh?
Oh, god, how pathetic.
    ******* pathetic.
What in the ****.

Are you on?
Are you there?
Am i staring into the abyss today?
Will it be staring back at me again?
Are you staring back at me today?

I dont demand justice.

I demand understanding.

I demand

It starts like this:
"Where is my beginning?"
"Is there an end?"
"Where did the maddness
        come from?"
Does the ghost wail for
  itself?
or for
  others?
Who do you wail for.
There are no answers.
Only questions.
What is your answer?
Now tell me your question.
The end is always nigh.
Especially if you are
        planning for it.

And i made my own little creations
I would watch them every once and a while.
I wouldnt binge.
I would just tune in sometimes and see how things are going for them.

And if they were ants
And if they had found their log of a home
Fallen into a fire of any sorts,
I would try to minimize the damage.
I would not interfere.
Not phenomenally.
I would build them a little bridge
Of wet wood.
And i would hope that
At least a good amount of them
Would make it.

I wouldn’t pull the log from the fire.
I would maybe adjust it so
That in a way, there is less of an urgency
Of emergency.

Some of them
Are still roaming
The burning
Log.
I hope for the best.

Eventually
The cold seeps through you
Into you
You become
The cold
You are cold.
It is not your fault
Impossible.
How can you be to blame
For a world that was already
Way too cold
To begine with.

Thesearentevenpoemsanymore