call me when you get this
you don't wanna miss it
you don't wanna wait too long
they're playing your favorite song
can you wake up when you hear my call
i'll be waiting until next fall

let the lips of my angels embrace you wholly, God,
a kiss of wisdom waters love with the embodiment of heavenly art,
I am scented with an ocean of delight,
my soul is wounded in your love,
let us rejoice at the final end of human life,
death comes near, let it approach and break the bonds,
the lips of my soul paint your beatific visions,
let me die not for your love, but instead let me flourish evermore with this sublime gift.

Now I am sinking further
in the deep glow of the night,
into the depths of my mind
I can't see very well I am personally
not used to dark.

Further down I slowly go,
Emotions coming and going
I don't know how to hold them
so I try and I try
To feel them but refrain
letting them grow old.

I struggle sometimes
trying to force my hand
bothered by things I don't understand
but I tell myself this very well
Reminding me to let the kite go
as the wind blows,
the clouds and the rain cover the globe.

Destiny, I am to be unfolded,
re wrapped and patched
to something more organic and loved for it
I will stumble out of stillness and fearfulness
to be brave and built strong, courageous

To let my shackles rust
My vitality rise
I will become a beginning
But first I must die.

those were the days
when love sprung from the hearts of children
when love seemed so innocent
now it's a mere field so barren

you called me from afar
I came to you, no more than a lover
our hands met with tenderness
goodness, we weren't even 13 yet then

then springtime arrived
we went out feeling much more alive
our lips embraced each other quietly
as quiet as the love that bounded us then

now we are both twenty-three
spring means nothing more than collapsing trees
the warmth now feels hotter than ever
and what we seek in love is nothing more than peace

but then again
when night reaches its height
sometimes I still seek for you.

……,

Melancholic tries pull
Towards two edges
As soul ripped apart
from top to bottom.
Strongest one comes
To know agony,
Living for eternity
Weakened from a mere
Bite.
Torment is
No sudden death
But losing it
Leaf after leaf.

I **** the blunt
I never cough
Can’t feel the smoke
Consumed in my thoughts

I spend all my days trapped inside a house.
It’s a monochromatic senile old home.
And funnily enough,
it doesn’t have any walls.

Or windows.
Or doors.
Or  lights.
Only a table, and three chairs;
two of which are always vacant.

I don’t really know how I sound like.
Or look like.
Or the subtlety of my countenance.
And when I look into the mirror check,
all I see is a description.

I don’t have any friends.

Well, actually, everyone’s my friend.
It’s just that they’re all in my pocket,
crumpled up.

And when I take them out of my pocket they come out as a mess of scripts.
And when I speak to them my words get added to the bottom of their pages.
And when I scream, ink soaks the page, turning white paper into black canvas.

No one put me in this house.
This is just where I happen to exist.

But I did once leave here.
And I had nowhere else to go.

With only dead ends in sight,
ever escaping my predicament seemed like an impossibility.

Then there came visitor.

Hello,
it’s a pleasure to meet you.