to poetry,
i want to do more than
catching feelings,
just to write them in poetry

no one cries over spilled milk
i do
well, it must not be over spilled milk, then?
no
that can’t be right
but it is

i cry over spilled milk
how could you not
some cry over spilled brains
spilled milk is my weakness
evoking the deepest sadness
a trying entity
spilled milk is life
a perfect crystal glass
shards everywhere
piercing my heart
watering my eyes
jading my soul
milk is creamy white dreams
like the creamy white cloud fortress
in a creamy white heaven
all over my kitchen counter

under escort, visiting life,
I'm unable to command modern times,
at least here I can be god of words.

i want to remember
everything.

i fall back
and time holds me,
i see the beginning of the world,
the earth anew,
all peoples collide
and are one,
i am you
and you are me,
we are the same
yet so unique.

but i am awaken to
reality.

with no pockets full of answer,
no stanzas to flow on,
ive got nothing else to say

my eyes close
and i fall,
it's dark,
there's no floor
or ceiling,
no alpha
nor omega
like God,
but i wake up
and forget.

without
a sound, you slide down,
poetic dreaming
screaming loudly.
I was so wrong

shouldn't be afraid to die,
i am