It's been a long day.
Not as a day that's been filled with worries, but as a day filled with fake smiles
plastered together in shallow swathes.
It's been a long, long day
Even if I feel like this, at least I'm fine
If I take a sip of coffee, the coffee's cold
If I reach out, will you embrace me?
To be honest, I'm not sure what I'm reaching for.
The day's cold and the coffee's gone, so I'll leave you with this

The shadow of a tree's leaves in the sunlight is warm and gold
full where it should be empty
and open as a healing wound

Once is never
Or at least never enough
Life can be quite tough
But einmal ist keinmal

Let's try something new
See if it rings true
That despite what we do
Einmal ist keinmal

No inhibitions, no regrets
Do what we feel like
And never forget
Though einmal ist keinmal

Take risks, be bold
Don't harden your soul
Nor grow stale and old
Einmal ist keinmal

Live in the present
Be now, be here
Have no fear of the future
Cause einmal ist keinmal

Feel this lightness of being
As if nothing matters
Our significance shattered
Einmal ist keinmal

Sieze the moment
Give it your all
Live life to the fullest
Knowing full well
Einmal ist keinmal

I heard that
you're coming back,
but don't ever be like lush,

when things turned black,
head went off in a rush.

there were
shadows
that fought
for the right to
exist
descended off
the stairwell
fell into
the frostlake

and it continues.

before
they struggled
in the dark
then,

everything's gone.

When I'm happy a tornado of o's and 1's cascade
from my heart, a why-
an endless carousel of binary;

But to be happy should be enough,
in those moments when I freeze and smile
I should ask for no more than that,

that last little star in the background
before the lights go dim,
and extinguish everything.

is poetry really something you think about

like, can this be considered poetry?
me, here

sitting at a computer screen
typing words ever so

conversationally

this reads less like a poem
and more like a speech
or perhaps, like a friend
telling you their day over coffee
and I bet right now you can smell the roasted beans
the air, thick with the smell of caffeine, whipped cream,
possibly a cigar or two

and you hear the voice of your best friend
who's telling you about their day

how they had it rough that day
Ben from accounting really knew how to ruin a day, let me tell you
or perhaps,
someone just spilled coffee all over their notes while they were studying

and as much as fifty apologies can mend a relationship,
fifty apologies can't dry up your english notes

can we really consider this kind of stuff poetry?
it's completely free-form
against the norm,
little to no rhyme or structure
no substance whatsoever

just a mindless person rambling about things that seem ever so slightly relatable

is this really poetry?

probably not.

Burning

Burn burn burn
turning around and around in a world
gone mad on illusion,
be glad to scrawl some truth
on the walls of self,
this prison we create for ourselves
endless as the space between things
atomic glances in the glaciers
of arctic reality, alone.

Alone and with you, just you
alone, alone with you, just you.

You don't exist, I am here, alone.
Loneliness the barricaded cliche;
a comfort from the complexity of Pandora cities,
lived network, passing moments, waste,
waste bucket lies and lives -

Cries in the sombre darkness of the city streets
heathens and homeless burning, dying
spice addicted fiend crying in empty
alleyways, and me alone, crying, dying
slowly, in this cage of my own creation,
the only thing that keeps me sane -
creation of hope, "delusion you dope" says
voice inside, burning bright demon.

Burn and fry, mottle and cascade downwards,
find yourself in the dirt of experience
and avert your gaze to the heavens.

What choice do we have?
The alternative burns and haunts my soul.
Endlessly, needlessly
Burn baby burn.