There is something adjacent to love,
Something heartless.
The love without love.
The want.
The clouds, they shake,
And I shake with them,
Because I have nowhere to go.
Blood cools and blackens and it’s a good thing.
Desire cools and darkens and it’s a,
Foreign feeling,
Even after happening again and again.
There has to be dark clouds.
There has to be a storm because it’s a good thing,
But my walls cannot endure so much thunder.
The absence of hope, like the abundance of despair.
Forcing yourself to shake because you just can,
And no one is there to chastise it.
There is something adjacent to love,
But it might as well be a thousand miles away,
For all the good the distance does.
A moonless sky,
By the time you notice it,
The stars have already brought it home.

.
Play.

I do not know which iteration of myself
I am pleading with this time,
but let me ask on my knees if I will still be you
when I get to wherever I’m supposed to end up.
When you say ‘try again’ I reset,
slam myself into doors and windows until
the milk of my bones seeps back
into amniotic fluid, and then I am here again.

I am here again, and now
I have new mistakes to make.

Pause. Confusion. Breathe. Play.

There’s a body in the glass,
fragments plucking themselves
through parallelities;
there’s something beautiful
next to something that stings,
and they pool together
like watercolours against a sky
where you can pluck your finger
from the air and lay claim to the spot
where you think the end might be.

If you want the end to be yours,
then take it. Tell me
how I should be going about this,
and if you can watch as I
ruin everything again, let yourself
become dust in the air
and surround me with the control
that I do not have.

I’m not in control.
I’m never in control.
And there’s something absurd in the air
that pushes the day to the horizon
again.

It’s up to you now.

Pause. Rewind.
.

Panic and Perplex were angels,
                   Until God, grounded them
                                                       Mid-Flight.

The broken tape cassette
playing jazz to the beep on loop
running around the roulette
my soul  hanging around by a single droop

My soul won't let me give up
my mind will continue to deceive
love, I ruin, I wreak
till there's nothing to receive
water's reached my neck.

In the deep waters of solitude
I'm wet, oh I fret!
absolution I don't deserve
the time would linger
It's the nature of the sentence I serve.

To my bewilderment,
there's nothing too clear!
An ambiguous state
result of errors since antiquity.

The man can't speak anymore
for he has got
nothing to say
nobody to pray
down, down he lay

Pink fluffy apples
Green juicy flamingos (hiccup)

     Black sour marmalade
(hiccup)

              Orange lumpy liquorice

Purple tangy mushroom

              White rich yoghurt

  (hiccup)

               (hiccup)
                            
                            (hiccup)

What did you put in my drink?

i'm ill
the soul of my being aches
aches for validation
from the one person
that cannot provide it.

I'm a hopeless romantic.
Trapped in my own mind.
Wanting romance,
Listening to music,
Reading web comics,
Wanting to feel the sensation,
Of romance.
And?
What do I get in return?
Sadness from within,
Seeing others happy,
With what I want.
It truly is a want,
Not a need,
For romance.
But I guess we'll have to see,
If I truly am destined for romance.