somewhere
at some point and time,
amongst cosmos,
and the vast arrays of this
breathing, yet
tragically tethered to the angst
of a rising heartbeat,
middle of it all,
middle of the road,
i think of you,
and the fabrics of existence
in it’s full pure form
can hear it

i know that,
as stars collide,
and supernovas cry,
they hear me do it
also

some distant souls,
wandering the safari of
space,
listen to the mozart i yell out
and they paint picassos with
my pain

they’re…
gorgeous.

i remember,
seeing you walk away,
like everybody else,
and
******* burning
hotter than the solar flares
that bring to scale
those moments we shared,
ones i used to keep hidden away
in my vaults
in a black hole,
consumed by the gravity
of our circumstances,

of agonizing despair

geometry or the theories of music and sound,
no matter how complex
and grandiose,
simply couldn’t explain
with its intricate mathematics
the types of screaming
i did in these
dark corners

scales worth of screaming

but these days,
during these times,
at least in this version of my timeline
i find myself creating whole universes
out of all that crying,
all that screaming,
all those arguments,
the self doubts,
the loss, of many,
of you,
the loss of my own self

i became
engulfed
in being so lost without you,
but in the cyclical patterns,
and in the signs,
my misplaced trust in you
henceforth found in the universe,
or as Aurelius calls it,
the gods,
i found new meaning,
and i opened a door that lead to many
other doors,
and they all led within

and that’s a door that without you,
i may have never began to realize,
but i don’t look back past it,
especially now, especially lately

these days, during these times,
somewhere,
at some point and time
amongst the cosmos
a vast array of this breathing,
and surviving,
and this thriving breath
of fresh air i take
i fill many rooms with
many doors with genuine and true aura,
pure essence,
amongst the fabrics
of our very existence

and i can see you,
on the other side almost slamming
your ******* head on the same door,

a door i was willing to show you
how to open,

and in that impure, but full form of yours,
the universe and i hear you,
even though we don’t speak,
we hear you screaming

this isn’t you, and the three of us know that

i see you searching everywhere else
but
within,
which is exactly where the
right doors
lead

this isn’t to say you’re past from saving,
or that i’m for saving myself for you at all,

but
i can hear your echoes spread
deep,
into,
and somehow past,
oblivion

i know that
as stars collide,
and supernovas cry,
they heard us do it
also
during those years

well, these days,
during these times,
and in these spaces,

they just hear you,

i just grew
past the door i wanted to show you
how to open,

until i realized that’s ******* useless,
you have to do it yourself,

otherwise,
it’s like screaming and crying
deep,
into the grand vastness
of
oblivion,

and somewhere, it echoes,
leading you to no one specific place,
just,
somewhere

i’ll stick to my safari,
thank you.

-melancholicreator