I miss you doesn’t quite fill the gaps.
Holding onto something I never quite really had.
A break up before a relationships hurts more than the actual heartbreak.
The shattering of a love narrative I often wish I had.
I tend to break the glass before it falls.
A preempted move.
An unconscious notion to write a story before it happens.
It’s muscle movement of instincts to protect the fragile parts of myself.
The destruction of a relationship before it could blossom.
I thank myself for surviving this long;
But I have forgotten how to live in my after story.  
Trust.
Love.
Faith.
Hope.
Things I once could never afford.
I find myself in debt to those past experiences.
Never quite knowing how to presently spend myself.

I took advice from a fox
about survival and natural law
It spoke to me about cunningness
and how to trap birds within your jaw

I took advice from that bird
laying stiff in its mouth and still
about the ways one catches worms
and the early rise for their meal

I took advice from the worm
squirming in it’s beak from a brook
about all the fish it once had caught
and how in everything theres a hidden hook

I took advice from life itself
searching for secrets to survive
the difference between good and bad
and how Karma is killing us alive

The soft tears
not of sky
but of
a flower'
will to
survive

      Tears do echo;

Tear' sorrows,
joys, pains
and hope
no matter
when,
crying because
I'm still
here and
          
          Pretty alive.

I’m sleeping tied in knots,
I’m waking up still yawning;
it’s just become too much.
I’ve been multiplying my shots
looking for an ounce of calming,
but it can be hard to walk, without a crutch.

The stars are looking bleak
I’ve been busy living on the ceiling,
and prodding at my skin
as it’s become numb to all feeling.
And It’s always latest at night
when your head finds a light,
and your mind takes flight
then you gain blinding sight.

I’m sleeping with clenched fists,
and I assume with clenched teeth;
it’s just become this routine.
Body and soul contorts and twists,
layered both above and lying beneath
it’s the most flexible and restrained, I think I’ve ever been.

I had plans for this time,
but they’re reduced down to “oh well,”
begrudgingly accept that this is fine,
maybe dress it up with a “this is swell.”
I might never again see the light
but I’ll adapt to living in the the dark,
evolve, survive; flight or fight
I’ll be nocturnal existing in the park.

Victory has a hundred fathers
but it’s true defeat is an orphan.
The little things that no one bothers,
can be the greatest gifts; overflowing with endorphins.

Can you tell me where to find the bright side?
Apparently it holds all of the answers.
to cure the sickness that plagues my mind;
the worst but least lethal of all the cancers.

I’m counting the minutes
and I’m stacking the week,
and the intensity in it;
so insanely heavy I just can’t speak.
When will these thoughts diminish?
It’s growing stronger, it’s turning bleak.
The floors will shine and shimmer with wax and finish,
but it will never ever silence the creak.
The floorboards inevitably became weak.

You are in there,  I am certain of it--
Behind the gear's finely-honed,
precision fit  gear..

in to gear
in to gear

into gear..
And I wonder..  do you want out?
The machine  on the outside, self-repairs
Any attempt towards dismantle  from
the external,  is futile..
But the internal,  beautiful girl..

"I don't know what you mean, about 'machine'"
She is apprehensive, those beautiful
brown eyes,  looking up at me..
"Look down, sweet girl"
Her thighs, fully parted,  as I slide
in to her.. those amazing hips,
moving so perfectly with mine,  extracting..

Milking from me, my warm  pulsing *****--
a deeply-penetrating lubricant,  pulsed
deeply into the machine
As if to lubricate its gears..
As if..

But penetrating so deeply, as to now
permeate the insides  of the
mechanization's innerworkings--
turning from lubricant, to that
of a corrosive nature..
Fully coating now, the inner you..

as it turns back now, into that
of a healing balm
Bringing to you  a moment of Light  
  and internal clarity--  
long enough for you to see

    That the machine  is made vulnerable
    by the ever-changing qualities  of
    Love that found its way through
    As the awakened parts within you, for the
    first time.. understand

the machine's love-blocking,  nature
And you begin to choose, mid-******
the machine's dismantle,  from the inside--

'Little by little..

Line, upon line..

Block, upon block..

Precept, upon precept..'

Until we have the chance,  once again..
to do it all again

It makes me feel alive
When I want to die,
And reminds me why
I haven't done it yet.

Hold on to your reason
For, when your life gets ruined
And nothing remains,
It is all you have.