i stayed until midnight
standing at the bus stop
waiting to go to the airport
to the board the plane
to the moon

because i heard
it doesn’t shine as bright

now that it has you

Ten haikus later
and I'm still trapped on this plane
in need of a drink

6:21 PM
9/7/19

It’s been a week since the crash, first there were many of us, then there were few, then there were two, and now there is one; I am the one who survived on the others.

The constant reminder that our loved ones are gone.
Visiting their graves and placing flowers you bought on Amazon.
Realizing past problems that people never put their focus on.
It’s just an excuse to remember someone that has been withdrawn.

A physical phenomenon that keeps opening past wounds.
Feelings that people try to keep in, but still get loose.
Its repetitive and sad to tell you the truth.
Will it ever go away?

Ding, ding, ding. The alarm in my head rings.
Caution ahead. Dangerous feelings.
Prepare to get hit by sadness and other emotions.
It will end soon. Your mind is in the process of erosion.

A woeful fate with a caustic tone.
The mortality paradox without a doubt, well-known.
The charming idiosyncrasy of our loved ones,
Carved nicely in their granite gravestones.

The focus of death at all, ruins the day.
Exacerbating the situation, digging a grave.
Warning signs popping up like ads. Stop. Stop. Stop!
Just please stop and go away! Everything is better without it, okay!

Some people are afraid of flying
out of fear of falling from the sky
but I've been falling for so long
with no end in sight
so you see,
when I'm soaring above the clouds
I dream of the plane falling down
because at least I know
I'll finally hit solid ground

Set adrift on the rivers of wind,
to course through empty gravity
while drawing in flames like moths.

We touch down—- not with a bang.
But with negative.
Lack of sight, mind, and everything in between.

I pry eyes from my future scars, lit up with pain.
The sun blinds me while I lay on my back
only to see vision digressing into millions of stars.

He spoke to me as if an angel.
Not a single limb left to count on,
but still secured to the newly vermillion seat.

“Fear can’t hurt you
any more than this dream,” he said—
voice seeping through the nightmare.

He dripped.
Along with the will from his eyes,
before his body hit the ceiling.

And with him, down fall sanity.
Not to be confused with humanity—
the greatest temptress of them all.

Angel Juice
They fueled my warplane with 130 grade octane
It was bright green and full of spells
It was witchcraft just like flight
Making my plane soar like a rocket
So I could shoot down **** jets
Defeat their Me-309 escort fighters
Beating them by pure ******* speed
Then nail the ***** jet with my cannon
Blowing his ******* head off with 20mm
Me the aerial knight in his chariot
An airborne God in a Hawker Tempest
The best fighter plane of the war
Superior to all that was German
Be it Focke Wulf 190 D versions
Or their upgraded Me-109 K series
Or the 309s and anything else
I was equal to their vaunted jets
Like the He-162 Salamander
Or fast Me-262 which was ace
I was God...