I was to supposed to write of the Thunderstorm.
High winds. Pouring rain.
Uprooted trees. Burning wood.
A terribly terrific piece.
But, I let the words float on.
Drowning in a sea of unwritten dreams.

I was supposed to write of the Dancing Flame.
Rocking embers. Glowing rhythm.
Sweet cinder. Smoking desires.
A horrifyingly honest part.
But, I let the words smolder into ash.
Going down in an arsonist's dream.

But mania, oh mania.
Writing everything about nothing.
But me, oh me.
Writing nothing about anything.

I was supposed to write,
But didn't.

She would watch
the world
Burn in flame
And crumble
To naught but ash
Because then maybe, all
would finally
be
Equal.

I'm coughing up my lungs again,
smoking cigarettes I never had any intention of starting.
This isolation becomes inhalation
but it seems I cannot breath anymore.

Constantly searching for satisfaction I will never find
because it is found inside of things
I do not trust myself enough to keep
somehow I ruin everything.

Shallow tendencies weighing heavy inside of me
I guess I prefer semblance over substance.
So here I go again, locked inside an idea
rather than an entity.

I don't trust myself with sincerity-
too wrapped up inside attention
to be able to hold on to anything.

Carrying love would be too much.
I would crush the weight of it in my palms-
ash it like one of my cigarettes.

It would disappear every time I inhale.
It would disappear every time anyone got too close.

So I do not let them,
I tremble inside walls
and long hours
and become nothing
because that is what is expected of me.

Maybe I will gain the courage
by seeking someone that doesn't scare me so much.
Or maybe I just like the rush.

Stuck in an endless cycle of wanting love
and being scared of what it does to me.

So I **** down another cigarette
knowing this smell will stay with me.

Knowing this is as close to commitment as I will ever get.

can i turn back time
and start again
drown me in holy water
cleansing me from the inside out
let the ashes of my form
float like morbid confetti
over me
opening my mouth to catch
the part of me that
i once held dear
my blackened fingertips
reaching for the universe
hoping one day i can be
a part of that ageless space
drifting in a place i call
home
the neon hands of fate
just an inch away
but the gravity of my situation
pulls me deeper
in the sea of my consiousness

Half Smoked Cigarette

She is my last half-smoked cigarette
that taste is still on my lips.

With each puff
she took few moments of my life.

Smoke of her memory
still covers my body and soul
like mist.

My existence is scattered
like the ash
dazed and doomed
It will never be the same again.
as it was once.

And he set the world on fire...
A futile attempt to revive her long deceased smile
His eyes more manic, more frantic, as the flames grew higher
Embers danced through the sky to the song of the crackling orange and yellow hues
Yet, as more and more ash filled the sky,
Her pale, porcelain, face remained blank
Her eyes remained in the same melancholy, empty, gaze
For her smile perished long ago
His fruitless efforts could never bring it back to life