look at the night sky.
see how the stars move,
and the moon changes.

growing and shedding.
cyclical
and never stagnant.

i want to be the same.
moving
and growing.

i am trying to mimic the moon.
but how can someone so limited,
achieve such growth?

how can i endure the loss
and still wait for the bloom?

Days feel like months and months feel like years but alas,
only minutes have passed
and I’m still in today
and tomorrow is yet to pass.
But I have tried to move on and be free
I have tried to be better than I am today than I was yesterday
But this war unto myself
Has only ruined me.
I don’t know when the wait will end
I don’t know when my life will begin
But if life is to begin then it can begin again tomorrow
But that’s not the point
That’s not what the wait is for.
I’m waiting to be free
To be unburdened from life’s destiny
I wish to move on to a clear beginning
But to begin again, means an end is to come
So I’m stuck in this endless spiral that goes nor up nor down
Just moves in rotation to complete this circle
But always begins again for me.

The waves are silent. The waves
don't move. Nobody wants to be here
and nobody wants to leave.

There's a man trapped
under his house with an alligator.
His wife does the thin space walk:
an olive, a cherry, and an onion.

She'd sensed his gaze and took off
her dressing gown. She asked if he thought
her bottom was too big, her mind too small.
He said a faded, faulted no.

He's stupid, but he'll catch on
sooner or later. He once saw a ray in her,
but she fell out of orbit. Waxing and waning.

She's got to be careful, after
the sleeping pills and gas. She knows
it's Wednesday because she
took her last pill on Tuesday.

Allowing the world she so painstakingly
built up to ignite and burn apart
in front of both their eyes.

The truth is I don't want to be a lingering after thought. A space that fills void. An unattainable purge of what you have been lacking. A comma in the break of a sentence, I've been in to many situationships to idealize anything less than romantic. To many almost & could have been something's. It's like a reflection of the sun but the heat never dissipates close enough for me to know it's real. The existence of it leaves my soul aching in hunger even though my belly is full. Maybe that's the difference of it, getting high off sugar and the other endorphins. One the body can sustain, the other just a flicker of a high that last as long as the burst of affection. To be desired is a supernova of lust. It's a star that burned out centuries ago but the light still fools you into believing it's present. To be loved is like the moon and all of its phases because even when the moon shows up in parts, you know it's wholly still there. Still yours. Still will rise again tomorrow.

At the end of endless search,
found the precious gem.
only to give it away,
as it doesn't fit my ring