Why am I captivated by
What I don't even know
Like
What you are doing
Right now
Wait
Don't tell me
I like being in this
Mesmerizing stare
Of wonder

I do not exist.
I am theoretical,
a vague conception.

A collection of cracked and shattered eggshells,
swimming through their shields of protection.
In theory, my mind is the static of a television screen,
with no news to report, just the quiet credits
of a horror loading a few dozen miles away.

Is it a Tuesday?

I am strong,
and determined,
and powerful.

I cannot be ripped to shreds.
My strings cannot be cut.

I am a daydream,
sweet and surreal,
the lustful longing
only a little girl
can dance beneath.

I’m a torturer,
my own body my canvas,
my mind a delusional path
of destruction doused
in little wishes.

I am immortal
until proven otherwise.
You cannot ****
a trailing thought.

How many more seconds will tick past
before my body is mine again?
How many clocks must reset
before the moving pictures move on?

I long to be spontaneous.
I want to hold my hand in yours,
sip a coffee and slip my sunglasses through my hair.
I imagine the sunsets we could watch together,
the car trips, and the daisies.
We could scream in the cornfields,
you could get down on one knee,
we could travel the world together.

I long to be important.
I know I’m intelligent.
Maybe if I could memorize,
if I was in control of my own thoughts,
if I wasn’t riddled with what he says
and her opinions and her rebuttals.

I can see myself being happy.
I know how to daydream.
I want to write a novel,
I want to learn the secrets of the stars.

How can I reach my goals
when you complete them for me?
How can I live a meaningful life
when yours is covering the screen?
How can I get rid of you,
without having to say goodbye?

Because under all these linguistic strategies,
under poems and prayers,
the truth is that I am in love with you.
I, on purpose, hold you close.
The only stories I see among the stars
are the ones you step foot in,
the ones I’ve written for myself.

I am a dreamer with multiple dreams.
I am a novelist for two worlds.
I want to take the path not yet taken,
with a go-pro following the one that has.

I don’t want to lose you.
I’m terrified of losing me.

The clouds of the skies
ripped open her agonies
today,
As I patiently observed
her tremendous thunders go unheard
to all.
As she poured her tears
all into the soil's lairs,
once parched.
As the winds blew to soothe
her swollen eyes, in her blues
he stayed.
While she broke down binds
each thunder, the winds
blew through
Her hair as her tears dried
up and sunshine gleamed through
her smile.
He gleamed.

silent poet thinking words,
never i must write
lucid wretched loving words
all bark and half the bite

silent poet thinking thoughts
the ink refused to make
mind and pen are separate
an unyeilding opaque

if i tell the tale to you
of love and praise and good
you'd laugh and laugh and laugh some more
naive misunderstood

my mind a chasm of infinite good
the world dichotomous strange
the vines do seize me gently
to a velvet padded cage

my head is a bed of roses
the thorns pierce me not
i am safe and free and happy
delusional, deep in thought

**** me softly
make me smile
your intoxicating
rapt exile

silent poet thinking thoughts
writes symphonies in his head
the writer and the audience
will dance until they're dead

silent poet thinking words
is struck by stockholm syndrome
perfect captor perfect world
illusion is his home