Lately,
there's been too many conditions
On unconditional love
Too many questions asked
On unexplainable emotions
Too many lonely nights
Under a roof so many sleep
Too many second chances wasted
On a hopeless romantic like me
It's about time I finally left it all
you already knows there too many reasons
But I'll name only 13...

Writing is odd
The happiest I appear to be
The quicker the ink runs dry
Flipping the scales
The same holds true
So if for some reason, someday
You receive a flurry of new poems
You'll know why
And it isn't difficult to guess what happened
Next

i am utterly depressed
cascading carelessly toward a home i know so well
and with every breath getting closer to the last of mine taken
breaking ground anew inside desiccated places
where few have traveled before me
for i have been the only traveler here
i feel that's the way it's supposed to be

remorselessly remote in an ever expanding universe
we each sit alone in our tiny little pastures
fractured but with a curse for connection
and a penchant for self destruction
generally of ill intention

'tis but a sight upon which we must gaze
one another across a thousand milky ways
with hope that these sights might meet
and greet
so to speak
each others swift heartbeats
soon replete with lust and callous needs

or is it a mirage
my minds own trickery that deceives me
believing so easily what my heart wants to see
such fantasies don't seem to be free
in reality they can be quite costly

perpetually expecting the exact same thing
from the same set of circumstances
when what's happened before has caused such a
guaranteed calamity
seems i must be crazy
and that's ok with me