And the steam is gone,
Clean now — everything.
But the tub.
Dirt days and dirt of the day
Ring around the tub,
Stays, a conjunction,
And, but, Baby is gone with the water.

We notice the dirt, the after bath aftermath,
Or I notice the dirt, because it is just me,
And the steam is gone.
Draining is slow:
A clog of pocket watches;
Lovers’ tresses;
First communion necklaces;
And flecks of sparrows’ wings.

The sparrows know better,
Bathing in the sand, brake dust,
The gutter grit.
The irons,
Dirt-day rings around my ankles, a conjunction.
Too fettered to flap like the sparrow,
To shake-shiver filthy clean.

Delirium.
Here is a time when I know nothing
Yet seemingly everything, all at once.
Pretension.
Addicted in the feeling
Of a lifetime of exaggerations.
Encapsulation of a behavior
And vice I always envisioned
Feared, even.

Evasion.
A method I turn to;
To escape that which I always
Thought would shatter me
My whole personality.

But am I even sure what that is?

How abysmal, small, insignificant.
I realize at times
What I consider to be what
Matters most
Means nothing at all.

Hazy, fleeting, floating
In an atmosphere where I feel joy most—
Illusion. It wasn't joy at all
But freedom—

Still, it could be.

Uncertain.
Haphazard thoughts crash
Against my inhibitions.

Still, I am me.

I cry, laugh, smile, frown
For all sorts of reasons

Still, I will be.

For what I am:
The boy I knew
The man I grew to
Hating and Loving
Endearing and Enduring
Will always stay within.
I shall never forget
Who I was yesterday
And what I shall be
Tomorrow.

These confessions of realizations.
Things I never said—
Wanted to say,
Always
But never managed to.

To you who closed the doors.
To my struggling, elusive honesty.
Then inevitable it was
That I grew tired and besotted
With what we had
Where I could neither retreat
Nor advance towards Elysium.

Delirium.
Encapsulation—
Everything that I am
Towards the void
We find ourselves.
Finally, surrender was all I had
To save my drowning conceptual notion
Of all I perceive
Of whom I am
Of whom I was
And who I will be
From further despair.

Oblivion.
Emergence—
From the cocoon I've wrapped myself in.
Eternally questioning: am I free?
Have I grown from what we had
Or do I remain as myself,
Complete, as I view
The aspired self I lost
Along the way?

still.

Remembrance—
The Preservation of what needs to be
Propagating the lesions I earned
From you.
The imagination I conjured
In hopes of a better
Cause and outcome.

Finality. Nihility.
This moment shall be the end.

Of us.

Destroying what elated,
But ironically
Hunted all that I can give.

Remembrance—
The good times
The bad times
I shall carry
Perpetually
Wherever the winds,
The lightning,
and the Imaginary,
Shan't take
This delusional life I led.

I’ve divorced the me I am from the me you thought I ought to be.
Now there’s no more space in me for thoughts of you and me.

How ironic to not seek the tools yet drool on them
To see the instruments and break down like a phlegm
How naïve of us to use the gym as an excuse
To prolong it, as if it were drug use

Some call it dopamine others call it clarity
Most see an opening to showcase their barbarity
Called less of a man to those "better off"
Called less of a woman to those showing pictures with their sweater off
Lust driving companies to show children compromised
We see these plaything while revenue boosts the enterprise
Anime, video games, novels and Tv
Nothing seems too extreme for these mediums
Beheading, shredding, **** and made "Dream-like"
Topics have been explored beyond their tedium

**** is accessible and Ai makes your dream man
Merge yourself with your idol beyond the imagination of a regular Stan
Be praised for wearing Japanese ******* and condoning said behavior
Treat somebodies feet pics like your very own savior


The beast wins not with wit, but with a pattern
To catch us in the act frozen still like Saturn
Internet connections show us the milky way
And your hands remain adamant, your mind filthy

The beasts doesn't care of November, nor valentines or about your crush
It waits to clamp you, and turn you into dust
Too ashamed to seek humanity, too far gone to find morality
Repeated until insanity, Your mouth blurting profanities

And yet we blame the beast when our relationships end or we cant break a ***** habit
Then try to pray to catch up to the Sabbath
Why Lie to the beast and to ourselves?
To those who use their hands or run to cheap hotels
Is ******* more worthwhile than redemption?

The beast is with me as I type this, judging my every move
It laughs, uses slurs and denying my attempts to improve
It lives in you, no matter how content you are with your sexuality
And does its all to destroy your Mentality

How boring it must be
To be able to wake up in
The morning and do
What you need to do.

I will dance around
My kitchen table
As dishes pile up.

I will lay on my bedroom
Floor as the laundry
Screams that it needs
To be done,

I would go into the bathroom
If it wasn’t for the person
In the mirror that despises
Me so much.

Oh but when I get that spark,
That little moment of clarity,
time stops,

I become a fraud and can’t write
Poems anymore,
But the way my hands move
Around the dishes,
How fast the laundry walks itself.

It must be perfect to live
Like this forever,
But oh, how boring.