Isolated, the prisoner finds freedom
An illusion in this caricature world
Happiness isn’t in the longing of isolation
But to be alone and still remain a clockwork
Sharing the burden of emotions all around
So that in the end when you look behind
You were never the only person alone

Take it to the bridge,
That's where it's meant to be,
It's meant to be remembered,
By lowly lock and key.

It's meant to stay forever,
It should never be forgotten,
It was there the entire time,
Yourself, not nearly so often.

It stayed there through the cold,
It stayed there through the rain,
It meant to stay with you,
Yet you never walked that bridge again.

I will always be this passionate about people, of sunlight, of a warm cup of coffee, the little things that often go unnoticed. the overwhelm of life will always come for me, the overwhelm of feeling will always stop me dead in my tracks.
grief is a natural disaster, joy belongs on cloud nine, anger takes form in violent hysteria, love feels like skydiving with a faulty parachute. it never mattered to me if the glass was half empty or half full, all I could ever take into account was a glass worth of emotions that never stopped spilling over.
I swing between the pendulum of it being too empty, and often too full. my heart sets off fireworks, I’m accustomed to have to feel in order to feel alive. so it I suppose it makes sense if having nothing happening out of an adamant routine would so easily convince me why I am having such a hard time staying alive.
that’s it, when you feel like I feel — you need emotion to remind yourself why you’re a human being. I was stuck in such a remote and isolated void that I forgot what being alive felt like.

“You are not an artist.
You are not an artist.”

        What photos must I shoot
        How many cigarettes must I smoke

It is scary, but - I want to embody the things which destroy minds

Summer vibes feel like radiation

Use this alcohol to eradicate
The proposition - that I will be ‘okay’

My phone is on airplane mode

My ambition is floating - as a feather might -
Down to the depths

I cannot finish my own sentences

Bury my expectation with my religion

        And it’s funny
        Because I have resolved my mind to avoid romantic
        confrontation
        But, alas - I do day-dream
        Of a girl’s face & hair - for it has appeared in my dreams four
        times
        And I awake to Deja-Vu as her face appears in conscious
        frames
So…

I can imagine & I can see, but - they have become one in the same
Could not fantasize asking
Your hand in mine

Oh how I wish to cry
To sob in any light so long as you are in sight
Someone to reassure me, that - yes
“There is an end to the night.”

But I cannot. I suppress it in drives. In music videos. In writing. In self-speaking when I have only me to keep company.

Kick me off the team.
I do not know what I need.
If I could lead, as I once did.

But I have left concern in the refrigerator
With empty bottles & cans
Maybe I will return tomorrow to salvage the cents of my malleable integrity  
Won’t you reliquinish me of it ?

For I have sipped the poison of honesty
Regretfully it tastes like honey
Lustful - Fleeting - Sugary - Intoxicating