feels right imagining the good things happening with you
feels wrong expecting them from you

There is something adjacent to love,
Something heartless.
The love without love.
The want.
The clouds, they shake,
And I shake with them,
Because I have nowhere to go.
Blood cools and blackens and it’s a good thing.
Desire cools and darkens and it’s a,
Foreign feeling,
Even after happening again and again.
There has to be dark clouds.
There has to be a storm because it’s a good thing,
But my walls cannot endure so much thunder.
The absence of hope, like the abundance of despair.
Forcing yourself to shake because you just can,
And no one is there to chastise it.
There is something adjacent to love,
But it might as well be a thousand miles away,
For all the good the distance does.
A moonless sky,
By the time you notice it,
The stars have already brought it home.

Breath condensing against glass confines,
Out of order, out of being.
Undaunted rebellion against the boundless universe,
Splayed out onto bed sheets or forest ground.
In the corners of damp alleys.
Law, worries, ribbons undone.
Hair fallen, laughably bedraggled.
Melting snow dancing on raven feathers.
Faint fingertips skimming across that brazen chest.
Oxygen crestfallen for its own demise.
And oh, how it will die.
Kin with each unmerciful covenant.
Maimed by wayward kisses and borrowed time.
This mortal revolt championed by love.
God is dead and we are still here.
The world is ending, and we are still free.

I catch the dust
Flying it up on the paper
Getting throw to be fast
Let it go then after

I draw my feel
Being good on the sketch book
Painting its to be so real
But nobody wants to look

I see myself
In the middle of the sky
Trying to go down
And never try to fly