Orange
dancing lady slippers
perform uncoordinated
reblooming of dormant orchids;
warm and cordial in
informal candor
but agoraphobic
from misfortune;
mourning and remorseful
over flowers wilting, mortal.

Daybreak aurora
portent of
sunlight to come,
but stuck northward,
scorching corneas
in torrid dysphoria.

Organism born
horticulturally
disproportioned
and poorly formed,
origin in morbid horror;
cerebral cortex
its own torture,
the mortician
orphaning the organs
from the corpus;
stored in morgue,
torched in crematorium,
vivisected immemorial.

Stems and tendrils incorrigible,
disorganized into
deplorable ****
of tangled discord
clumsily running its course,
corsage and bouquet
aborted in accord.

Important shortage
warrants foraging
for resources
hoarded by some
abhorrent lord;
crowning court this
monarch's consort,
sordid and immoral,
keeping score like some
sick and sadistic sport;
reinforcing order of what's normal,
stronghold cordoned to conform.

Pollinating
swarm of hornets,
buzzing orchestra
of wings in chorus
quarreling with silence,
their scorpion stings absorbed;
stabbed, pierced, and gored.

Like a tortoise
slowly inching forward, torpid,
morass forbids;
roots exploring floorboards,
divorcing into a gorge,
fingers blindly implore
contours of the walls
searching for the door.

But drawn and quartered,
blossoms' florid
and ornate frame contorted,
warping its own portrait;
assorted torment transforming
efflorrescent, metamorphic.

Dwarfing, enormous,
and soaring towards orbit,
forty story high
arboreal forest
flourishing before us;
gorgeous morning glory,
thorny laurel adorning.

Forthwith,
storming windows' glass,
bastille, and castle supports;
warring against fortress
though swordless,
never resorting to forfeit until
entire territory terraformed
into floral orchard-
fragrant and vibrant aura
rewarding victoriously.

Distraction after another distraction,
Chasing dopamine but it’s fleeting.
My failure to take any real action,
And patterns go again repeating…

Sitting with it would be better-
Creating space with each exhale-
But instead, I seek quick pleasure,
Can I escape from this mental jail?

With each transient gratification,
Receptors meet a chemical reward.
Producing less natural generation-
I just want my brain restored.

Words have more power than bombs. Every noun or verb I pronounce reverberates across worlds. They disperse. They coerce with like minded individuals just trying to get a grasp on what goes on earth. Pay attention. Try to listen. Your potential is worth more than I can mention. Ignore the tension. Breathe my brother breathe. What you have in this world you can't take when you leave. The love lives forever wherever I am here. I am near. Nothing to fear. I love you. That's what really matters. That's all that matters. Everything else is just chatter. Breathe my brother breathe.

At morning you wake,
the sun burning your eyes,
you wonder how much more it will take,
until you reach your demise,

you're already counting down the hours left in the day,
terrified for what's ahead,
planning how to get away,
from all the words they haven't yet said,

you start your slow walk to school,
with your earphones full blast,
levitating straight down the hall,
please can this day be the last,

it's hard not to think it's your own fault,
when you're the reciever of every stare,
and the target of every insult,
that plunges you further into despair,

you want to scream "what did I ever do to you?",
for them to treat you like **** on their shoe,
to have your spirit beaten black and blue,

how can people tell you to ignore it,
when everyday you take a hit,
you reported them but it was no use,
they practically just tied your noose,

so inside it you place your head,
and you do as they wished,
so now you're dead,
then they'll say how much you'll be missed

Forgive me, I tried,
to fight the demons inside,
but I have to admit,
to it I did submit,
it becomes an addiction,
forcing me into submission,

Forgive me, I need,
to learn how to plead,
for it to leave me alone,
after all that it's shown,
I don't want to live like this,
but it's something I know I'll miss,

Forgive me, for I can't explain,
why I self inflict such pain,
or why I can't put down the blade,
and disappear in the shade,
but it's my way to cope,
at times when I've lost all hope,

Forgive me, I can't,
ignore the voices that chant,
telling me that I'm weak,
and other nastiness they speak,
demanding that I cut,
and forever be in this rut,

Forgive me, but they win,
I can't fight all this pain from within,
I need to feel the blood run,
the devil thinks it's fun,
that my final string has snapped,
and in this cycle I'm forever trapped

Deep in the darkest corners of the mind,
through the corridors you will find,
the thoughts slowly skulking along,
and everything just feels so wrong,

the tricks it plays,
putting the host in a haze,
reality or not, who can tell
encompassed in an unpenetrable shell,

it blocks out the guiding light,
burying it far out of sight,
in the dark is when it does the most,
turning into your own personal ghost,

filling the brain with endless ideation,
begging you to bring it into fruition,
but if you work hard then you just might,
eradicate that suicidal parasite