I've spent an eternity staring at my own reflection
Trying to find out exactly what made me get here
and I've only ever found out one thing
That my life is absolutely pointless
but I also have a feeling that if I spend another eternity here
I will realize something else entirely

Because I've been having these dreams lately
these vivid, disgusting dreams
in which I know exactly the answer to the question I ask myself
And in these dreams, I don't seem the way I imagine myself to be
when I find out the answer
When I find out the answer
I imagine myself joyful
because why else would I spend eternities
trying to find out why I'm here
if if would not grant me a lifetime of joy?

I seem to be walking quietly around my childhood home
looking at my hands as they rot in front of me
And I'm walking heavily, you see
like I'm being chained to the earth
and I would have to spend yet another eternity
just walking around my neighborhood

I just keep walking until my feet turns into soil
And I turn into soil

I know now why I can't keep searching for something
I will never find

She lay on the ground, dirt collecting on her bones and in her hair.
Feathers and twigs scatter around her as the raven builds its nest.
A gentle breeze stirs up leaves around her.
It never served her to have a heart of gold.

i stare at the ceiling and hours go by.
clocks tsks—
and cars, outside, laugh
lamp paints shadows on the walls
and the chocolate melts
—a flute sings
and winter settles on the floor
the fan hangs still— still— still.
a bear snores in her cave
and baby owls, with their moons, watch—
a river hisses meekly
and crops bow before the night
air chokes on gold
—and crescent yawns
the clock tsks— the clock tsks
i stare at the ceiling and hours go by.
the clock tsks.
the clock tsks—

I am unravelling.
Fragments thin as hair pull away,
Ribboning to a dance of dust.
Of stars,
Or of dirt -
I am unsure,
But there is no weight for breeze or sun,
and yet they hold me gently within their calm.

This garden lays here with me in the center
Languid and lazy, languish all here who enter  

(my feet planted firmly, im now growing complacent, cause the water is cool and sweet when it rains)

The grass sprouts in soft and the flowers are blooming
The daze of the heat here becomes, all-consuming

(though withered stems once stuck out of the dirt, ive noticed the flowers heads are starting to come in)

The warmth of the sun seems to lull and soothe
a slow beating heart, the troubles of youth

(it seems ive neglected to pull up the weeds)

The dirt remains damp from a rain shower long past
It feels cool against my skin, as sleep closes in fast

(but the flowers are coming in so prettily, and i am becoming quite sleepy)

Earth
    worms the color of
    bruised tongues wriggle
    out of sodden dirt and
    splay themselves out on
    gritty asphalt

To breathe.
    We bite our tongues as the
    sun returns to burn away the wet.
    Bodies shrivel from the
    desiccation until we can come out to

Air that smells like all that
    rainwater and blood
    evaporating to fill our lungs.

As if my insides are too pink
and new to reach inside of
and pull out anything of value.
As if, because my body was not
forged out of natural disaster,
it isn’t a world of its own.

I sit at the edge of the world,
as water falls from the ocean
into the abyss that is the sky
and floats past the stars.

Where I cling to handfuls of dirt
and grass, and the rocks that cling too,
so I do not fly up
and drown in the universe above
and below me.