My brain was clouded with all of the smoke.

I took another **** laughing at the stupid jokes.

Forgetting the promisees that we had once spoke.

I felt as if something was broke...

So I took another ****

To forget we ever spoke.

Right now, the only thing,
that's keeping me sane
is the sound, of the heavy drops
leaking from the damaged tap

As it falls into the tub
The sound pounds and pounds
on and soaks my hollow head
It drips from the
cracks on my scalp
drip by drip into my mind
My mind is drenched
My thoughts can't swim
There's a tsunami in my mind
a floating disaster
but you can't see

-Kaya

but fools only relish!
the psyche in which we perish!
hatred buried so!
and burned within merry lore!

for are they not,
the sane within the in?
and the in amongst the sane?
and the in of the sane--
which in here will truly reign!

like this, there, and, that?
and which, where, and what?
and spit, spat, and sput,
through here, hear, and hat?

brothers and sisters of spitting scholars!
we sing in two, to, and too!
with be, bee, and bat!
to this, there, and that!

easy to know--surely so, surely so!
the sane within the in--in the inn iconoclast's igloo!
"for what if the in shared the inn amongst the sane?"
"and the sane melted and blurred tongues within the in?"

what troubles your mind? what minds your troubles?
did you not know we live in the inn within this, there, and that?
and the which, where, and what all share one lobe!
for this is for the truly sane within the in,
and in inn of sane!

it shakes us!
like nails bitten in two, to, and too!
and mends us!
like dresses, treading thru, threw, and through!

might, in greatness, we rest, in base
eating bass--knocking bass!
for it is one-- nice and tight!
as the sane dances with--within the in!
in the inn of linen and tin,
for there is nothing greater, than the knowing labor!

and the world spins,
in and of the inn,
of the sane within the my,
and the in of the sane,
in which noose you and I tie,
and lie,
and die,
to again yearn for the sane within the I.

many we bleed from our mouths,
waterfalls of cherry vitality coating writing canvas,
sinking--melting--within twisted tongues,
and they're sure to ban us.

with graphite--with ink!--juicy wrists beg no mercy,
'gainst the natives with stash minds,
for our pain melts like water over leather,
yet sinks branding upon skeletons.

for we are blessed by God to bestow eulogies for one another,
as one tips from silver seat,
another awakens his place,
with picky gums and robins for teeth.

and how the ache and thirst must be great!
for the explorers must find all 10 fingers 'tween pages,
clad with strawberries and gauze,
and lips chewed off by ages.

and hollow words are gurgled by luscious syrup,
and packages droop 'neath vocabulary scholars,
O back, O bottom, O mind aches thee!
for only thousands to endure the shock collars.

for little Alice would fear to sit with our odor,
as gears and cogs steam--overheat--with vehemention,
and nights--pray tell--pray tell,
are long and arduous drinking lobes with the devil.

for four frays fancy flights!
'til grandfather croaks your retire,
and we blood-let and let leeches sink 'neath tender armor,
and shadows usurp darker.

as we are vampires--but crave the stone light,
and pour magma into our young's bellies,
so they may inherit our plight,
and ring off their tellies.

which noose may I bind?
which hand may I lock?
which tendon should twine?
which ink should I rock?

as we let, t'is nothing but medical,
as our teeth melt from mouths,
and our eyes dismiss with ridicule,
as our wrists are slaughtered,
and minds fluster through obstacles.

our hearts are obvious time bombs,
that rush to supply our cherry,
but when will the stunning twinkle cease to live on?
and be nothing but lemon balm?

O the sea we cross is made of iron--rust--and steel,
and lusts for its named called out,
for if we delve within this eel.
it'll surely be leaving no room for elders to rout.

the drive for honeyed poison excites me,
and the ache of the chew grows more,
at the thought others will see,
spin innards at the drop of the lore.

for we are the ones that wished for nothing more,
but to be charmed by crimson, and keys, and herrings,
and we pray for the pricking ore,

so the world may finally wear the pain as our custom earrings.

C     0   n  5 t    @  n  t l   y
                                                       G       r! p  p  ! n   g
                                                              t             O
                  R   3  g    A   i   n
                                     M                    y
                                             S         a n  1 t    y
                                                      I     n
                                         T   h  !s
                                                        I n S a N e
                                                World

I have a hard time believing in love,
yet I still choose to let the thought creep in the back of my mind.

I believe love makes people act in foolish ways,
they seem to forget that the world keeps spinning.

I don't want unconditional love.

I don't want to be loved in a way that isn't fair.
I don't deserve to get away with my ruthless flaws.

I need someone to tell me when I'm wrong.
I need someone to make me see that there's more than one way.

I don't need pity where it isn't deserved.
I don't want to hurt someone who has let me into their heart.

I need raw and honest love to keep me sane.

(-DF-05/27/16-)

Be kind,
Even when you are not supposed to,
It's a bravery shown and
is what most don't hold with in.

Be kind,
For the world who just wanna start another war and slaughter every last piece of kindness
you hold within.

Will you still be kind?
For if you will,
You'll be the one who'll save the world