Your alternate universe is full of plot* holes,
but at least you're the star.
INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR A MEANINGFUL ANSWER
I love you like clocks
breaking their arms
on my bed,
trying to stop time
from making me forget
what you looked like.
To the point
Where being alone
The night unravelling,
caught in the moment of the earth's
dance on its tilt
when it's just as day
as it is the night; like light
appearing behind shut eyelids
who am I to trust
when the earth turns and dreams
turn into daytime reveries
will I wake up and forget
or will your elbow slide off the table
and break the spell?
This time is a perfidious lover,
so tell me,
whose side is it on
You can't hold the short arm of the clock
and call it yesterday.
This is what I've learned this year. I think we've all grown up in ways we don't want to admit.
And in the end we're always more lost than ever found. But isn't that what life is all about? Finding your way back to yourself.
Happy new year everyone.
I hope joy gets your address right this time.
Love is a public hanging.
I build a beautiful platform
***** the instrument of my demise.
Fully conscious of my impending end
wrap the rope around my throat
she screams the guilty verdict
and soon I dangle,
twitching in the desert breeze.
I'm an immortal criminal, and I never learn,
a perpetual repeat offender.
I’ll soon be swinging from the gallows once again…
it's just a matter of time.
Everything I build seems to fall apart...
Hence begins the transition from
the hopeless romantic
the sadly jaded cynic,
the ******-off lovelorn pessimist.
I've spent too many years trying to change the color of these streetlights to match that of my whimsy,
and I'd just as soon remain alone than to have you right here with me.
When an unseen breeze pushes these leaves to dance as shadows down my street,
I can't help from thinking:
This is beauty.
"Acceptance is usually more a matter of fatigue than anything else."
-- David Foster Wallace
I’ve had a few failed relationships,
I wonder why I said yes to some.
But you, you’re an odd one.
You already know that,
But I say that because
It's hard to keep you in my head.
All you come with is memories
Of anger, and breakdowns,
Embarrassment and lust.
The others are good memories,
Physical memories, healthy love,
I remember what their lips tasted like.
Her lips tasted like Cheetos, but that was in seventh grade. I'm sure they'd taste different now.
I slid into a time portal that turned into a home.
I hid the lessons I forgot to learn underneath a rotting poem.
I leaned against a no-one and found out who I was.
I did it all to feel alive,
and/or just because.
What a thing to exist.