The world he lives in is small.
Black waves lap at the shores of vapid sand
As clouds hold their place overhead.

The promises etched on his spine,
In the most faraway places —
He couldn't read them.

He runs his hands along the pale green barrier,
Feeling its imperfections sprint along
His fingertips.

The walls close in — and it's sad here.

He screams, he screams,
Each gasp a breath of tombstone air,
Each thrash an electric abstinence from thought.

What flavours describe the tendrils of his soul?
The red-stained weeds that grew over bare feet
Now trap him.

There is poetry to be found in a little life,
But the gravity of supposition weighed too heavy.
So he sits — counting the dark stars.

The walls close in — and it's sad here.

Raging, roiling, boiling sea,
filling every last crevice
inside of me

Washing away my last
gasps of breath,
leaving me winded
and ready for death.

I've swum for so long,
and yet not long enough;
It's not right to give up now
but these waves are getting rough.

I'm getting the hang of
letting myself sink
a bit





Just enough for the cold
to ache in my bones
And every time it rains
My skeleton cries and drones.

The depths are so much
calmer than the rage above,
All I see from here
are faint ghosts that push and shove

I
want to inhale the cold,
but the cold will smother me,
and I'll never grow old.

This all hurts, every wave
and every splash
The rushing current
to pull me under in a flash

I'm just trying to swim,
listen to the silly blue fish,
keep going, don't stop,
You can have anything you wish!

I'm just tired. Is that even allowed?
We say it's okay, but our actions
speak the ugly truth.
There's just no satisfaction.

Everyone around me is tired, too.
Is it fair to stop swimming,
and let them go on in peace?
There's another race I'm never winning.

I don't need a life preserver,
nothing is wrong, because
others around me are drowning, too.
Life simply doesn't take a pause.

This all hurts, I can't breathe,
I don't like what's inside of me
The water I've breathed
boiling and roiling and ready for tea

Leaking through organs
and soaking in my veins
My head is swimming,
and surely that sounds insane.

Must be lack of oxygen flow,
'cause I'm still sinking
Bubbles slipping from my lips
I blow and up they go

Sinking, thinking, dreaming sea
lay to rest what's inside of me,
and in your darkness, I will sleep.

I said I didn’t
but I did
I wasn’t supposed to
give a ****
Never seem to
get ahead
imagining scenarios
in my head
They’re always too good
to be true
I die alone if
I die with you
I die alone if
I die with you

End it when I can’t
seem to think
of anything that
means anything
Add a break then
start again
Treat it all as one
in the same
Treat it all as one
in the same

Repeat it to make
it seem important
It only takes more
energy
The reward is
fleeting
But you’re still
here reading
But you’re still
here reading

And that’s comforting

The end

The mind, divine
Through the vine
Of time
Tangled, entwined
In some
Grand design
Of marvelous form
And numberless prime
A nothingness enshrined

All the light
We cannot see
Lovely, dark,
Soundless and deep
Figures shift, restless
In the mist
A maskless mayhem
Patiently waits

drag my helpless body down the hallway
where it is dark and hidden from everyone,
a place too eerie that ghosts yearn to dwell and linger
—my purpose is quite the same after all.

compelled to conceal myself in the shadows,
sublimating to an unnoticeable presence
like speck of dust upon a quaint furniture
that no matter how meticulous and kind
the hands that care for me,
i cannot be wiped clean.

a miniscule of being that i am
only has a slight chance to be found.
to be known.