Energy radiates and traces my body with celestial tones
I am more alive than I’ve ever been
when surrendering to awe and wonder
the same way my younger self fearlessly did

something about that glimmer hasn’t left yet, may never leave
memories still have flavors to me
mornings with a lake of flakes in my bowl
or years and years later when a fried hangover cure restores me
each month and its esculent flashbacks are a part of me
a cell in the skin
a beaten feather in the wing

something about the glimmer hasn’t left yet
the Earth is still new
and discoveries never expire:
new scenery
new explorations
new chronicles in the cinema
new kindred spirits
new waves of audio
new therapeutic solitudes
all balancing out the
new captivities
new mistakes
new mediocrity
new unhealthy solitudes
and more

until the body is a home base of homeostasis
commensalism at its finest

but something about the glimmer hasn’t left yet, may never leave
I outgrew shadows who doubted their expiration dates
I don’t rubricate the sky in a rage
anymore
don’t let the heartbreak pause a pulse
anymore
don’t let misanthropy obscure who I see
anymore
don’t let uncertainty’s web catch me in a paralysis
anymore

or at least I try

something tells me I’ll never “age out”
of my hunger to live fully
I know deep down you're similar
your craving will not fade into cinders

oh what a feelin!
To be trippin on nostalgia.

there are things im scared of
some insignificant
ladders
deep water
being lost
none stand a chance against
my biggest fear

growing up

but all my fears,
seem to have similar concepts
to growing up
ladders:
how far can i go?
before i come crashing down?
deep water:
how am i supposed to know whats to come?
until i arrive?
being lost:
what is growing up?
if not being lost?

David Bowie’s voice was like a race car bed to me
To take me back in time, when we were only seventeen
Sprinklers in the summer air, my feet on muddy ground
Turn into ***** bottles as I scream without a sound

Rachel’s cabin in the woods was a race car bed to me
A lovely little paradise that brought so much to see
The outside world did not exist, when I was with you there
We kissed inside the living room with flowers in our hair

And now I find that there is not a race car bed for me
Nowhere else to turn to in my grand attempt to flee
Fears that hunt me down like prey have chained me here to die
A grown up bird, so limitless, but too afraid to fly

i've never felt
so alive
experiencing the full range of human emotion

this is what it means to be human
what it feels to breathe without condition
and shackles to their needs
conservation of energy
preservation of self
outcomes fulfillment

residual ties out of desperate attempts at connection
burning those same bridges out of fear
i'm known
not understood
used as a tool from my own overextended hand
not understanding
people can't be used as distractions
finding the flaws in repeated dynamics
where do they **** up
but where do i contribute
is the better question
how am i the problem.
i am the problem
and now, how do i resolve this
time will offer it's lesson again
let me catch up
i'm still doing my homework

And if I became a rapper, I probably wouldn't rap long (True)
Being known for writing out another sad song
As they say, 'choose your poison—my poison is life
'Choose your weapon—my pen is a ****** knife
Flavour your values, my character is a little bit of spice
A mix of overly nice, I tried to grow some ice
But the soft waters remain still warm from my eyes
Working harder when I cry, those waterworks are real
Tried to help people out of some good sense of will
But all the investments in people hasn't paid me still
(Still broke)

We built our reality on some broken dreams
Thought we would be married around twenty three
I know I've disappointed you kid, promising to achieve our dreams
Now I'd hate for myself to look for achievements inside of me
We don't know what it feels like to be truly happy
And I know our biggest fear is to disappoint the entire family (Woah)

We're not done with the disappointing jobs
We got a couple more years of time to sob
They don't think you're much of a man
And being a writer doesn't fit well with their logical plan
You still **** at being a good man of his romance
You never even got the chance to own that collection of Vans
The suicidal thoughts are still lurking in your mind
And you've dreamt up so many ways of how to die
At the funerals still refusing to show emotion and cry
You still make up ninety percent of all your smiles (Sigh)
As we're currently still going through those constant trials
Hey younger me, welcome to hell of this adult life

We built our reality on some broken dreams
Thought we would be married around twenty three
I know I've disappointed you kid, promising to achieve our dreams
Now I'd hate for myself to look for achievements inside of me
We don't know what it feels like to be truly happy
And I know our biggest fear is to disappoint the entire family (Woah)

tonight the sky.

dark palette.

the stars are projectors.
the paintings of them are in
perpetual motion,
carry the zero.

conflicted still life.
of spathodea.
of pomegranate.
of her own folded-up *****.

it's all in how you interpret
the brushwork.
girls can tell.

a reassuringly dull sunday
turns to intrigue.
the busy girl buys beauty.

people are places and things.
lost affections in a room
in need of images
or at least explanations.

she looks for it.
she listens for them.

the sound of existing.
the sound of a quiet room.
a rainstorm or possibly the sound
of someone taking a shower.

blind little rain.

autosleeper lowers her head.
the economy of sleep patterns.
and little else celsius.

tonight the sky.

tomorrow a place where
one can ruin oneself,
go mad, or commit a crime
with paint.