When all that stares back
Are faced unfamiliar
Looking at me peculiar
Like something wrong in the molecules
Piecing together the math abstraction in my intervals.

They try to lash out with their sabers
Cut me down the middle
Find a piece of me they can savor
All their clap-backs speak in drivel
Got a question for the mainframe
Go ahead and quandary this little riddle.:

If you plagiarize my symptoms,
And make a symphony of my sympathy
How can I take you seriously,
When all I see staring back is failed copies and incompletes?

Competency gone in the zero
Lash back in your hack attacks
Like **** me with laymen
Punchlines hit like wet ramen
I’m soggy from your softness
Brittle like dry pasta,
I boil over til I’m screamin’

What you do in fantasy,
I make reality, for me there’s no pretend.

All out of pretense
Come at me with your sharp swords
I got a few weapons of my own,
Strike at your nerve core
See if I can make a mannequin dance
When I pull the strings.

I told you I laugh last,
Because all I leave are corpses,
Now ring around a Rosie
Pockets full of posies
Ashes to ashes I’ll break you down.

Desecrated and shredded
I walk the asphalt collecting the confetti that is my heart,
Hope the celebration landed you in higher spirits
And when the proof catches up to tingling limbs
You fall from your cloud,
To crash back to reality,
You are a horrible human.

Undo the locks,
Release these iron nails,
Keeping the deep dark at its gravely bay
Let my horns rip through flesh
Teeth sharpen into daggers,
Lips blacken like charcoal,
The skin reddens and hardens.

I warned,
With the subtly of a distant storm
Whispers and calmness in words gifted
Hoping you would spare your visage,
Yet you demanded recompense
In tithes, you could not afford,
And now the tide comes.

You once spoke of existence,
How it paralleled your inability to feel past indifference
As if I could ever conceptualize blabbering words
To make sense of the gibberish and absurd
The obscure way the fabrics of reality weave in and out,
Desolately decimating credible certainty
I am unfamiliar with the language
But too acquainted with the scars they leave.

So you sit, afar,
And know that the time wars on
Waning what was left of my sanity,
My life was brevity,
And as brief as it was, this breathing haiku
I know what I wish then I knew….

Hell is real,
And she looks just like you.

A park bench, and
A yellow orb nukes its core
a million times per second in space.
Somewhere, a man spoke his last word,
Or an infant giggled at her father’s scruff.
A black hole light-years away
engulfed another black hole of lesser mass;
the surrounding planets spaghettified.
Yes, this park bench is.
And you,
sit there with a leg over mine.
Wrinkles on your iris orbit a black hole,
visible because of our star.
It's just you and I,
sitting on a bench.

So tired of being the owner of a heart that's broken
All I want is the courage to love with arms wide open
But everything I've seen and everyone i know tells me it's not worth it
But how could it not be worth it?
Every time I start trying to make myself better
My brain keeps asking does it even matter
The hardest thing about living with depression
Is when you lose hope you'll ever notice your reflection
But just like there's more than one way to hurt
There's more than one way to heal
And you deserve to know that your pain is real
There's gonna be some bad, but it's gonna feel so good
When you realize it's OK if you're misunderstood.
It's gonna take some time, but you're gonna be ok. Because for what it's worth, I'll be with you every step of the way

Hot water lap dance
Feeling quite comfortable
Tide urges me onwards
Line fishes for something
Along edges of mountainous
Erupting horizons vapour dissolving
Passing clouds blue sky thinking
Revision of indignant existence
Not feeling much for a while
Pittance good riddance and guile
World revolving around the child
Locked inside away from myself
Disconnected coming up with plans
Sometimes prefer doing nothing
Just neglecting my health
That’s okay still alive to tell the tale
Now just need to execute in the name of sacrifice
Make the journey up to now worthwhile
For every moment of doubt and pain
Hope and distraught freedom
Despite the shame already
Would be even worse to waste
The opportunity have been given
So let the gift not be in vain

my mom drove a head start bus for awhile when I was in pre-k
she would tell the little kids who were bored to look out the window for pink elephants
I remember thinking she was a good mom because she let me in on the secret and the kids thought she was cool
our opinion on what’s considered good can be wrong even when our intentions are right
I never believed in pink elephants but I did believe in her

And then
I said,
"All my poetry
is not
fictional"
putting all
these short
little bursts
of inspiration
in a different
perspective