Give me half of what you love.
What you let yourself be devoured by.
Spanish romance, drunken cantinas, Men cry.
Persuade the un-driven only through sacrifice.
The Vices the heart speaks are your impulsive desires.
Light my fire, Light my ******* fire because it's in dire need of an aspire.
By Christian Ek

I don't care to talk about the problems that surround me
Rather watch 'em make a boulder split right down the middle
Crushing my entire future, to have aspirations bend
Bottle up what I feel, to hope everyone arounds me feels alright
Well, I don't feel alright, but I'm not going to complain
Keep moving forward, in hopes I made someone's day okay
This is all temporary, I hope
Because it's 5 PM, and my eyes are tired, my body is shaking
I fought the longest battle, and I'm ready to lose,
But I refuse to surrender

The tree branches sway back and forth in freedom,

teasing and taunting me while I lie in my own self-pity.

This eternal thirst I have cannot be quenched.


A pole’s flag violently swaying in a hurricane

as it bends and hurls,

sick with despair,


I snap out of my thoughts and emit a sigh, a moan;

which it is

a mystery

I’ll never solve.


I cannot tell if I am frowning or weeping,

my heartbeat picks up, I bite my nails.


This disease is a spiritual presence,

haunting all those who have it.


I lie awake and think of them:

the ones that I admire and can comprehend.

Us poets, compare one thing to another,

but we ourselves are truly the hardest to understand.

I found myself, trying to be,
a little bit like you.
I don't know why.
Maybe I just realized that I wanted to be
a little bit like you.
The world was such a happy place,
whenever you were near.
I'd love to be able to fill a space,
with the joy you did.
For all conflict, you could erase,
just by smiling.
I wish that I - poor, dreary and
corner-of-the-party-bound
me.-
could be like that.
To have such beauty,
and such grace.
To really be like sunshine,
on a rainy day.

Buckets filled with tears,
          filled with effort and sweat,
            blood and exhaustion,
will fill a well-used life,
                                like a small apartment with a leaky roof.
This apartment is dark,
                                         dreary, and nothing more could fit.
Pain is written on the walls,
  stress lines the floorboards.

Sure, you could move to a new place,
    one with clean walls,
                  empty spaces to walk,
    a TV with satellite,
    but you stay in this dark hole in the wall,
because it's yours.

Through all the sweat,
                     the buckets filled with negativity,
       the dreams turned to nightmares,
a single droplet, glistening like the sun,
         appears to descend, stopping

just beyond your reach.

No matter how many buckets, tables and chairs you pile up,
it sits, staring down at you.

One day, this hope,
        this unprecedented sense of achievement
     falls,
  landing softly on your tongue.

The taste is unlike any other,
   and the pain melts away.
      The blood, sweat, the tears,
         all become necessary.
The dingy apartment
     is well-lit, clean,
     and the pursuit of this perfect droplet
becomes The ideal.
This second of sweetness
                      makes bitter fade to memory,
                      makes the darkness warm and bright,
illuminating existence.

Boneless city
How did I never see you waver in my youth?
Ignorant of the tilt and the blows dealt on day-to-day walks
Stepping into bruises, slamming into ****** grit

Boneless street
You bring my head all the closer to the ground
All the further from the clouds
From all your round about; circular, ocean mouth
Shark-toothed belly ache
You find yourself insatiate

Quaint, the flesh of a dying city
The concrete simmer, the metallic retreat
The dust in lieu of blanket smog
No fractures with all struts gone
Only a once inflation, reduced flat
A stranger finding himself within
Wading liquid glass that shaves off chunks
Of everything, but the lack