Daedalus built the maze in which I live. The beast is dead, no need to run, though the need to hide runs deep. Other creatures haunt the dark.

Lol dumb, I know.

I have this thing, which I’ve done for as long as I can remember, where I space out but I’m still looking ahead, but also within. And little me, the shy spirit hiding behind my skull stares out of the maze through a giant telescope that opens up to the world of normies and people who understand how to be social. And I’m here, far beneath my skin, unable to relate, only able to observe.

I will tell
Anyone who asks
That I love you
But I will tell
Anyone who doesn't
That I don't
Because I offer lies
But reward questions
With the truth

***** This

Don't feel
Don't think
Pretend but sleep
Awake in your deep dreams
Awake but yet asleep
Were you torn and but not alone?
Or did your dreams keep you deep,
Deep in your sleep
Yet awake and asleep
Alone but not
Your thoughts, the stranger you don't want to meet
They keep you awake
Yet still asleep
Awake but asleep

He said grown men don't weep
but I did last week
last night as I lay on my bed in a heap
bar height - i've lived a life on the sweet
(bar -marmite a little bitter on the teeth
(bar -barfights i guess I thrive on the street
baabaa type if I'm a meat I'm a sheep
ha ha at light but only weep in my sleep
far far right from when I started this speech
au revoir mon amie this be the end of my suite

Your shoulders, sturdy,
hold me, heavy,
I am groggy but awake.

Push at a rock and hope it will move.
You reap what you sow but I did not
plan for your barren lands,
I hadn't thought of the desert,
I have not been able to dream, I have yet to fall asleep.
Watch me fall into the abyss of my own unconscious,  salvaging dollops of conversations we have not had.

Look at you ramble... uneasy, too afraid to let
a comfortable silence sit between us, too insecure
to share anything but emptiness disguised as words.

I did not believe in the power of company,
and their influence.

Now all I can do is stare inertly at the fallow lands of my nightmares
Only to awake, heaving, still heavy, gesticulating wildly,
reaching for familiarity.

I hate this obstinate reality.

We are friends by habit not love.

i cannot do.
make do i cannot.
to understand what makes only my surroundings happy.
what wrong keeps returning inside of me to leave me out?
envy those lucky and careless, i do, for i cannot
do no more than merely wish for a smile to spread,
not the numbness weighing down my chest, flooding the gateways of my veins with its poison like wet black paint.
i do not want to make this all i know;
its familiarity scares me.
what am i missing out on?
when sad longing eyes scan from the corner
over the strangers i do irritate myself seeing,
the fault in isolating myself is clear.
finding too many flaws and reasons to
throw away the key of eternal joy.
why do i do this to myself, thinking about
how upsetting it is that i find it sad how
i am not alive only in dreams.
my mind begs me to stop all this from happening.
it needs a get out jail card, but unfortunately these types
do not come for free.
because i cannot always feel what others feel.
i am cast out from having too much fun,
and jealousy accomplishes so little.
but indulge in too much pity i refuse.
the universe doesn't care about anyone
it does not keep promises for anyone.
believing in its reliability to keep you feeling
wanted, and with purpose and worth
is not worth it.
it does not stop for anyone
especially not to make sure i am feeling okay
on this gloomy monday morning.
i would rather be anywhere else.

Circling through this cavity I call a cranium
Cycling this radioactive water like uranium.

Splash a bit of color on this canvas called life.
Watch it jump out at you like bumps in the night.

Rattling fragment sentences with no complete thoughts.
Franticly thinking stupid, stuttering, ramblings, till I see dots.

Visions come quickly to my sanity bouncing back from reality.

Grasping onto my love for this one girl, is driving my life down in this porcelain swirl.

Sit back, relax, and drink this karma.

Her lips were so bitter sweet, dana could have made my heart skip a beat.

Fall asleep eyes, all night you have fought,
Keep your hostel mind at ease, hello deep thoughts....

I think the trees are walking, their gnarled roots groaning like the oldest of bones, their branches puncturing the sky. Just outside minding my own business when a thick slime started falling from the sky in staggered increments. The sense of surreal normalcy is still hanging over me. At any moment I expect the walls to peel away and reveal a vast ocean of space. The illusion that illusion can be transcendent  .

you know sometimes i wonder whether i'm capable of feeling - whether there are moments that strike me as more than just a case of black or white. i'm always on separate sides of the dichotomy - right or left, up or down, happy or sad, good or bad. but it just gets so tiring because i wonder when it'll be my turn to reach my peak - my breaking point. but it never comes. it's always here or there and at the moment, i'm nowhere.

Debauchery was in the air for all of us last night.
Neo hip hop stoner jive.

I once watched my friend break down into tears after
hearing a Phil Collins song while shopping for dinner
in a Louisville gas station.

Angela will get up and leave the room if The Reason by Hoobastank
comes on the radio and you still listen to Closing Time when you get ready for bed.
Weird phrases are hovering through the air.

I turned on the bathroom fan to avoid sitting in silence with myself and you ripped up all my potted plants and sold my favorite arm chair on craiglist.
I wake up sobbing.

You were chewing on a red pen, but i thought it was a twizzler. I worked up the courage to ask you for one.

The chainsaw love song of the jumping spider
makes the snare drums in your ears roll.
Its gold in the right light.
Even better in the under light.

I told you i think its weird that everyone buys shoes
and maybe some people feel about their shoes
the way i feel about my shoes,
Which is a good feeling.

I am writing this poem while other people
read poems that the have written also.

I am too anxious to ask people when podcasts become a thing
and what does it mean to be a podcast?

A friend once said it would be cool if your poetry professor
told you to ******* but its also cool when they get you a
glass of water at the poetry reading where you are writing poems.

I think the girl in front of me is writing a poem too.
I wonder if she writes about spiders.
I wonder if she is giving her mom a poem for her birthday.
I wonder if she drafts poems about how you make her feel but
deletes them before they burn into her laptop screen.

I wonder how you feel when you make me feel good and happy.
I hope that you feel like the way i feel when you make me feel good and happy.
I am glad we are friends. I want you to play piano with me on sunday evenings
so we can prelude into the perpetual strain of sunday to saturday.
It may, if we play loud enough, dampen the bodies of the
****** and doomed that we inhibit on weekdays.

I wish I could write poems that inspire your poems.