The times would
shift
and
break
to change bringing a
range
of emotions and feelings.
It was kind of
strange.
I had to
arrange
my
brain
to remove the
pain
for a
wave
of thought,
for a brief second
until my life was
naught.

Why waste my breathe.
When you can't listen to anybody else but yourself.

I'm not sorry for your lack of patience.
But I am sorry, you lost me.

Because when the roofs on fire
and my life is falling apart.
It's okay to be the fool.
Because he's walking off a cliff with a smile on his face.

So who's really living their best here?

How funny is it
A simple salt was
Forgotten by my brain

for all the turbulence i sought
and sought
i was pretty good
i was so good

i battled through all the chaos
my kite was finally flying

but i snorted so much ritalin
my pupils are tar pits
and she calls me a hedonist but
i don't know what that means

i do know that
i fear neither death
nor consequence
you can treat me like your last meal
always at my most decadent

i remember i need to eat
then delete the thought
the only thing that sustains me is the rushing

by now
you should know that

it's all about me
we did the maths remember?

Imagine and it begins, the mire sired from mind amok.
May have at once mattered, now the imagination is stuck.
Non-commit to all your projects, ideas strewn prettily.
In notebook crumble garland filigree.
You remember, only that you've forgot.
All work you do is nihilistically for naught.

**** that mess, darling. You are the best.
Calm be simple and be ******, indeed.
Even now you work heart pumping chest.
But happy in finishing you're not so keyed.

Back to the doldrums and foot tap astray.
Knit fury with hands excite, colour gone.

Back from the dead, dancing with blushes.
Ego bruised snide, coy imagination rushes.

The never-ending chattering
Like a bullet train forcefully dashing
Across the endless tunnel, wondering,
“Is this a curse or a blessing? “

In the bottomless pit, clearly drowning
Clearly struggling
While others are just intently watching
Thinking it’s all just... acting.

Thoughts like streams,
jokes on you.
The energy will consumer,
the customs you have made.
Jokes on the one with dreams,
the one who brings fear and envy.
All I am is the messenger,
of thought to power.
This isn’t agony.
This is grand.
Something will strike me down,
but in the end,
I will return to this place of solace.

flip of the fingers house of your hands
steepled fingers like wooden roofbeams
diamond studded knuckles, rugby thumbs
palms over the dome and push doors

blueberry jars clink with raspberry under
the faded overhang of the balcony, leaves
me for sale and fortunate, slated skin,
mouthed promises against pixel skimmimg