When you finally think
Everything is finally getting back in place
It all just falls apart-
Faster than you expect it too
And then you have to restart
And then it happens again-
Its a vicious ******* cycle
And it will kick your ***
And it will tear you down
No matter how hard you try-
It happens again
And that-
Is the most-
I guess you would say-
Humiliating part of it

watch me make the same mistake twice.

placing one more finger on a fragile house of cards,
distinctly aware of the fall:
of the wind-swept,
                                                          blowing away,
                              lifting off the ground,              head in clouds,
                swirling,                              mystifying,
                                                                                        close to heaven
purgatory.

watch me pick the wrong god to worship, again.
offer Him the same gifts that were not enough the first time around
blindly hoping he'll acquire taste for it,
for me.
maybe, persistence is key.

maybe,
if i jam my square-shaped love into the round hole of his heart,
it will shift just enough to squeeze in there.
shall i cut some parts of myself out?

will i be enough then?

“over drowned summits.
Still white backdrop:
Scattered farms, spiked chapels,
dead ravines, dams motionless in blue steel.”

- Andrey Gritsman, “Last Day Of The Year”

There is no hill
Over by the way -
Rather, there is a
deep ravine that carves
Against the land and
Crushes, erases
In vigorous strokes
All who dare to
Stray too close
Over drowned summits.

As they fall and fall,
There is no forgiveness.
There is fear -
There is despair -
And then there is
The disappointing wash
Of pained acceptance
There is just one
Moment of pause, of
Still white backdrop.

The eyes roam over all
That there is to see
In a world that is soon to
Disappear; to fade into
Darkness and silence and
Whatever else awaits,
To take in the views
Of the living land
One last time -
Scattered farms, spiked chapels.

We travel deeper and deeper and
In the dark, there is a near-silence
That shocks to the core,
Moreso than even the loudest noises.
And finally, the grand finale,
The dull thump of a body
(No one hears it - does the tree really fall?)
And the padded footsteps of a reaper
Having come to claim it’s own - of
Dead ravines, dams motionless in blue steel.

I'm falling.
Not in love,
not out of love.
Just falling.


If you don't understand what this means,
that's what I'm feeling too.
I'm falling.

Maybe I could dance
To try to forget your pretty face
Cause you’re the only thing I think of
Every day
Every hour

I wonder why
You have such power
What was it
That made me fall so hard?

Maybe it’s that smile
It’s hard to forget
Getting tattooed into my mind
No matter what I do
I find everything leads back to you
Do you think of me too?

I'd do anything to take up space
in her notebook.
Almost anything.
Close to anything.
Most positively not that, but close to that.
A wobbly fall or ignoring a crowd of people.
walking through a double door you’d normally
have no problem walking though.
Most definitely the kind of mistake
that leaves you paralyzed.
Unable to move, taste, or breathe freely.
Paralyzed & left between the pages
she comes back & visits often.
Pages I have to relive every time I see her face.
If she turns her notebook sideways the blue lines
become a jail cell.
If she turns her notebook long ways the blue lines
become a pair of blinds & I fall.
Shifting through the pages until I hit the bottom.
I'd do anything to take up space
in her notebook.
Almost anything.
Close to anything.
Most positively not that, but close to that.
Unless she adds caution tape to the elevator shaft
Of the next skyscraper she draws.
Or maybe I'll just take the stairs

Everyone makes promises
Pinky swears and vows
Always and forever
But the road to eternity is
Paved with deception

Still somehow I let them weave
A blanket of lies beneath me
False security, holding me up
A net made of spider webbing
So easily torn apart by
The swipe
of a hand

But then I’m falling again.

Spiraling headfirst toward the concrete
And I can’t help but feel
Like this

Is exactly what I deserve.

Sometimes a paper lies in front of you
And a pen sits still in your hand
But the only thing on the paper
Are wet drops of tears
Falling from the heart