With a little bit of this,
A little bit of that.
Nothing never fits,
Falling dark and flat.
Yell towards the sky,
Empty trust, hollow lies.
Stay up all night,
Sigh till its alright.
Too sad to be quiet,
Still no one in sight.
Should've been delicate.
Ambiance now looks desolate.
Too numb to love,
Too conscious to hate.
Too guilty to confess,
This point in life I guess...
Would do anything for ecstasy.

An achromatic  photo
a tumbling rock
                            falling
                                        down

                              A snow packed peak
      
Every inch of stone covered in weighted white
Rolling and growing...
growing and rolling...
the only sound heard, ice kissing ice
And my screams
Do you hear it?
The avalanche of my life
It has a sound unlike any other
A crescendo  of every experience compounding on my soul, demanding to be seen, heard, felt, feared

Warning level 5 avalanche
Please evacuate the area for personal safety, hazard may cause more calamity

An abandoned thought,
A restless sigh,
Dust remains,
Where all has gone into nothing,
Deserted, uncared for, it lays there, waiting,
Staying, until it is swept away,
In the course of time,
Carried away,
With a breeze.

~ Umi

This is just one step
inside my desolate head,
it's like a never-ending maze,
a mansion with infinite rooms.
There are marks on the walls,
whispers that pierce like screams
saying "you're never good enough,
you'll never live up to your dreams".
It's a carousel that's still spinning
over and over and over and over
and over and over and over and over.

Motion sickness
has me feeling uneasy,
a party of everything I hate,
I'm constantly feeling queasy.
All the pretty things
I dream of always go away
when my eyes open back up.
The stories on this mansion
are higher than the clouds,
still I'm spinning and spinning
over and over and over and over.
I can't see the ground,
stuck in these walls spinning
over and over and over and over.

and just like that
the buildings fall,
hundreds of hours put into
their walls...

so illegal was it
to meet in this place
the one we spend hundreds of hours
and effort can't find a trace

Desolate
synonymous to:
Barren
Wasteland
Empty

Forgotten
Synonymous to:
My life
My existence
My happiness

Joyful:
The Antonym to:
My brain
my love
my head

Loved,
Something that I do not feel
Something that I don't remember the warmth of
Something I will never have

Halted and tainted.

Discoloration,

Derived from isolation.

Shameful resent, and painful lament, birth exploration of the intimate.


So...

Desperate to drown out the desolate.

Ethereal vitality, lonely and vestal.

Accept all without stall.


Vulnerable and platonic.

In need of deep loving clasp.

An invite to settle my weariness upon thy shoulder.

Someone to open my neck toward without smolder.


The moon reflects upon me.

Truth is intimacy.

If overpassed, you’re in infancy.

Simple and faded, adorable, but deplorable.

Let’s inundate our emptiness together.