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there was never enough paper
never enough books
the pens contained me
the key clicks asked to trace back too much
the paint had its own stories too
the dance was too visceral
the film was incoherent
and so i lived and died into them all
the masterful rebellion

and then your skin, when it was my paper
my canvas, my strings, my music
every flinch and gasp and breath was like art complete
dead love feels like dead skin,
it kind of feels nice to peel off
especially into poetry
You smell like summer
You taste like moon
Till my eyes opened
It's almost june

You hunt like runner
You run like rust
Till my skin
Turns to dust

So call me drunk
Three am
I will pick up
What a Shame
Then I'll cry
Whom to blame?

I lost my way
As ocean stray
May locate stars
But as it rains
All my metaphors
Slips away
Whom to blame?
More chapters coming
I hope you get that
some days i mourn the death of stars,
some days i forget to mourn the dreams i massacred
both days i tell you nothing about it

somedays i mourn the death of stars,
some days i forget to mourn the dreams i massacred

both days i know i can tell no one anything about it
and i didn’t, but it seems like the end

so what if i erupted out all my infections.
i don't know, if i could delete myself, man how many times would i have done it already
Honey never agreed with me
but the bees have never stung
as I brought my white van up
They would circulate me,
but they had this instinct,
of how they knew me.

I wish they stung me to death,
before I hurt the one of twelve,
and of Kate and others several,
in this two stanza brevity.
I deserve and wish for death,
before I can inhale another breath.

Those bees,
if I kicked the nest,
I'll be stung to red.

I was comfortable,
around their buzzing.
What can be worse,
trying to,
**** some-thing,
beautiful.
That thing,
is a conscious
of another
being.
I know
I mean nothing
as the fan,
blows me to
some-where.

Trouble is it
always gets me
and in the lifts
as wind shifts,
will always speak,

Angels are
humbling
and left are
just 4 words,
the hidden,
and arrested.
riffed on and on
about these implosions that is the world inside of me
pretty words and raw sketches did not get it any lovers
lovers that only knew to love
and everything else felt so vacuous
so lacklustre

dissect me, let me be your science and god- i plead again
but i thought i am not reaching you because my words were not adept
so i made it better and i was all the more unreachable
until maybe i thought that was fine,
i will be unreachable, sad but well

will you reduce me, let me be an atom that intrigues you endlessly

so i plea
so i plea
shamelessly
i will make you coffees and teas and potions unheard of
i will let you cut into flesh of my dreams,
we will make love in a cobweb of intricately beautiful poetic delusions
but i am tired too
the tired weary man also writes love letters
i wanted the world within you
i wanted the world through you
just through you
even if everything
everywhere else was as exquisite as it can be
even if it was all but dark and hollow within you

there is waves inside of me
ready to take you into my oblivious depth
with such voracious passion
i am afraid of it but i am also in love with it
because i am it
and i just wait for you
who is the all consuming dying star
that can devour all of my oceans and skies and apocalypses

will you go to war with me to love me more than i love you
before you **** love, nurture it, spoil it, spill its guts out
stifled, i feel
because i am a storm you would forget
the wreckage i leave isn't to your taste
i was not wishing you couldn't withstand me
that was never why i came on too strong
i just wanted to sway with you in the tides
i wanted to savor you in the highs and lows
i just wanted to be your personal storm
just that although i get it, who wants a storm
but i am a storm nonetheless
and no one likes a storm that stays
when it does you find a new home
you tell the world it wrecked you
about storms, within us, without us and the ones that left us, the ones we left and the ones we invaded
but no not words
when i said i cannot have the truffles or the waffles or dark chocolate
you broke them down and melted them
you got naked
you spread your legs and you spread it on those lips that forever seemed to conceal a pearl even you did not seem to know you should cherish
i liked that you liked it so i nibbled them clean
but i had to think about how much more insulin
i would need in the night
i wanted to know what truffles and waffles were
i wanted to lick them off your lips that quiver most
but would you get it without the sugar that can **** me
next time
that way i can die a little late and eat you endlessly

but hey i found donuts without sugar
it was sweet too
i ate it alone because who do i share
the yearning for sweet less sweet
while in a sugary decay

venus, i don't want to be your adonis nor anchises
or for you to lie that i am them
or maybe i do, why not
i just wanted to eat something sweet with you
that does not **** me
another part of the confessional that encouraged me to say it as is, that ego death is not for this world. it will ****** you.
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