He drove me to the sea
I make small steps
barefoot

Barefoot steps in the cold
sand, I do my best
I don't lie down

The toes of my feet
comes towards me
Next to his steps

We have done this
before, nothing wrong
The wind was always blowing

salt into my hair
foam into my words
playing hide and seek

inside my head, and the seagulls
squawk shrilly through it
I get lost in language

differences and bad
connections, and still
he does not notice

i wrote better when I was depressed
now I sit behind this desk uninspired
wishing pain still filled my brain
that way the scattered brains
from the gun to my head
became the words that you read.

There are so many lilies in my brain,
spreading the petals of the pain,
full of the fragrance of regret,
they are too hard to forget,
thrive and flow fast through the veins.

Too many questions on my brain
Why do we do this and that
What purpose does it serve
I just want to have fun
But I dont even know what that means
I dont know what anything means anymore
I'm just living life
This is all i know
But really I dont know anything
Really im just a ghost trapped in bone
Really am I even in control
Or did my mind just make me think so...

which is more fragile —
the mind, or the brain?

Can anyone define the word happy?
like, is anyone actually happy?
or is it just an emotion our brain makes up,
so we don't have to go through the pain which
is called life?

my thought fibers
push past the clutter,
swirling around until
my brain twists into knots
and my heart follows suit,
its veins tangling like spider webs
until my feet get swept off the ground
and my body gets ****** into the black hole.