No world could explain me; no daughter of life,
No saint, no flowers that watch in warm silence.
They are of surroundings—I feel separate.

No tongue could untie me; language I scorn, in
Thoughts I rest uneasy and unknowing.
Deeper through layers abstracted I lie.

What I know I have no way to prove. I sit in a
Room of no walls, on a chair that houses a ghost.
No words, no words, from hence the sadness comes.

I have faced down
the existential anguish
that drives lovers
to padlock themselves within.
I have woven blankets
to warm my cold shoulders
when I tumble
through the abyss.
I have created
Reason, Religion, and Reverence
out of Absurdity and Stardust.
I will always be
more desirous of desire
than secure with security,
more comforted by wonder
than wondrous of comfort,
and more of the romantic than the realist,
though neither is whole
without the foil.

Neither did he regret falling in love,
nor did he regret losing his heart.
What he did regret was-
Losing himself in the midst of love's play.

After she left,
he simply disappeared,
For there was no love,
no heart,
And no " I ''.

Sailing through a blistered night
Growing fleets, empty passenger
Phantom thoughts strain around the corner
Stygian roads, laced with coal and attrition
Losing the zoetrope of lights
Metal on metal, conjured through the crescent
Dead man’s curve, encircling the moon
Thrown through the eye of an eye
Born from the husk of a faded billboard,
tumbling down a brake light waterfall.
We’re all ready to go.

Realisation can be a harsh pill;
One I've always struggled to swallow.
The dose, in this instance, was to be
That my happiness isn't a reward.

It's not earned through great achievements;
Contentedness isn't product of valour.
It's not found in deep breathing and spiritualism,
It's not created by anything external.

No.
My happiness will always be through
consistent fidelity and belief in a purpose.
A purpose that simply has to be weightier
than the small stuff we're sometimes thrown.

It's the consistent drive:
To love.
To laugh.
To make laughter..
To put pen to paper.
It's a thousand-melodies,
On twelve piano keys.
It's the gnawing hunger inside of me,
That says it would be simply unacceptable
For me to leave this world,
Until I have brought forth
Everything I feel I have within me.

Happiness is always going to be a fleeting thing for me.
And that's alright.
Because I'm only just getting started.

So little time I have
To do all that I want
Even though I’m relatively young,
I cannot help but think about
How limited my time on this planet is.
Much time is spent worrying,
Either about the past,
Or what is to come in the future.
If only there was a way to stop
Thinking about this-
It makes me go mad