i’m sitting in my empty room
where dreams run dry

i’m tossing in my empty room
so desperate for shuteye

i sit here in my room so cold
with heat turned on
by the glowing moon

i’ve seen this moon too many now
i often think we’re friends, oh wow!
but musn’t i be dumb to think
or ponder what my new friend speaks

or does he speak
for he’s the moon
he speaks to me
a silent tune.

I looked at nothing today.
After an hour
It asked,
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
I, of course, didn’t expect this.
I thought I may have
Been staring at someone on accident.
Though, It was just me here,
And I suppose someone else.

Another hour passed,
As I continued staring at nothing,
And suddenly, I felt eyes
Right connected to mine.
-They felt spiteful.
“Doesn’t feel so good, huh?”
“I.. suppose not,” I said.
So I blinked.
I regained focus on the
Darkness in front of me.
Weird.
I looked at nothing today.

Being back home, in my childhood room is like climbing into a time capsule. I left for college quickly, back in ‘21 and I’ve only been back here once, briefly.

My closets are still full of my old high school clothes and there are shelves that line the upper walls of my room with maybe a hundred “Disney Princess” collectable statues (my favorite is Ariel).

I have one wall space behind my bathroom door that has a hundred yellow stickies on it - reminders of old assignments and quotes like, “Do you hate drama or create drama?” and “Imagine your future.”

Everything seems carbon dated. It gives me an impeccable, knife-like sense of ennui. I want to cherish it all or burn it all, depending on the time of day. I went to take down my old Humphry Bogart and Billie Eilish posters yesterday and Kim said “Noo,” in such a sad way that I stopped.

Hold on, let’s overthink this.

I had a hard conversation today. I broke the news to my cats (Belichick and Tom Brady) that school starts at the end of the month, and I have to go back.

They took it well, I think. You know how cats are. I’ll know in a day or two, if their good will has turned to sour offense - they'll claw something up.

Belichick seems to be watching me extra closely though.
.
.
Songs for this:
Lava by Still Woozy
Can't Hardly Wait by The Replacements
.
08.01.3PM

Procreate all of our conversations;  
to produce life in their endless longing words.

You, my beloved, hold a coveted title; as every time I speak
of you, my words are filled with a true and unyielding love,
that resounds ecstatically throughout any room.

For every conclusion of my speech, should leave
no doubt in your mind. Knowing without any hesitation
or reservation, that I love you – wholly, completely,
and unconditionally.

It's always for a good cause, until you see the massive hole in the middle of the floor no one can see.

And it's going to **** in everyone you know, but you don't want to say because you caused it.

You don't want them to worry because how else do you enjoy life.

You don't want to die, you just want to stop existing. It's not good but what is a better way than this.

Close your eyes, wade into the hole absorbing the room and everyone and everything you know. We all have our time to go.

It won't be too long.

unparalleled views across town
from fourth floor windows
taking in the changing autumn landscape
(an estate agent's *******)
the quiet room where moments
are spent contemplating a life ending
visitors wondering will you be here
for their return in the morning
but you survived your Armageddon
against all medical expectation
tenacious old man
a shadow of who you used to be
with a whisper of a future

I needed a place to rest my weary heart.
unfortunately, I had lost my room key,
so I asked you to spare me a space in your heart,
And you handed me a spare key and welcomed me in.

As I told the clock to wait a second for me,
still ticking off my list of red flags, and making
sure that we were compatible.
As we spent time together, making kisses
as wet as the scales of a fish out of the sea,
But I probably should have waited a little longer,
before I start calling you my catch

I couldn't resist the hook in your eyes.
The first time we made love, I was swimming in
the moisture of your body, deep in my feelings.
I took a break from breaking you open,
to sink my teeth in between your thighs.

And I was pleasantly surprised to find that
you were quite the trumpet blower.
As you found your voice blowing on my horn,
and I was left short of breath in the length of it all.
Despite my shorter stature,
I was tall in all the necessary places.

We spent our time smoking and getting high,
making a printer jealous with the loads
of paper we went through.
But I was always afraid of heights, afraid that
my mask would fall off every time I laid by your side.

As I was taught that love sometimes hurts,
but it hurts even more when you were in love
with someone who was hurting just as much as you.
But with you, I found a place to rest my love
and a spare key to your heart.