I’ve seen shooting stars,
Their, bodies, burning undesired
Thrown away
Like banished tears
From the dark pupil of the sky
I’ve been holding the hand of
A decade worth of dreams undone forever
So they could achieve dreams of their own
Before my gaze
I’ve held their ghosts in my arms
I’ve been standing at a full “I mustn’t” worth of distance
From their lips
I’ve been filling in vain, the bottomless glasses
Of the most beautiful words,
That spring from the electric spark
Beneath the ribs
I’ve been leading the guerilla squads
Of my beliefs
Against the empire of Impossibility,
And its most decorated generals: Doubt,
Insufficiency, Wrong…
I’ve lied face-down, hands tied behind my back
For that traitor, Restraint…
But now… I forgive him now…
And now, Empires fall on their own
Now those dreams unachieved,
Meticulously paint their eyes
Wrinkled from the salty trickles,
That realization has drawn towards me
For I’ve always known that…
Loving is now or never
You cannot wrap it in tinfoil
And freeze it for later
Yet, they, those morally unattained, chastely righteous dreams,
They do arrive at Knowledge station
Aboard the Intuit train,
Atop the tracks of true common sense,
Alas, too late.
My loving is given now
To Fulfillment,
For it chose now to never
And caressed my scars of restraint
With warm fingertips
And kissed my see-through “I mustn’t” from the other side of the wall
To melt away the distance to my bloodless lips

past simple praise:
he loved me
but he loved his pain more

i pulled him into the bathroom once, it was dark
his warm fingers gently plucked at my heart
for some time
the way we kissed was art

his rhetoric far surpassed mine
every time
he asked me how my day was,
i proceeded to word *****
i talked about the most useless ****
when i asked him about his,
i got a shakespearean ******* sonnet

present perfect pain:
i have never been good at thinking things all the way through
and that is why i've fallen so deeply for people like you

Atelic
I live on —
The present is nothing more than an endurance test;
The brief pauses are past participles
The only respite.
They are done.
I dare not look at the future
The irrealis construction —
Longing, hopeful moods that will ultimately accomplish
Nothing.

If you listen, you might hear the patter
of children's feet as they run
to their fathers' arms.
You might hear the croon of infants
babbling through the darkness,
or the sound of love and laughter
coming from the gentle gaze of young lovers.
You might hear the ocean, ringing its bells
and floating on a wall of noise.
If you listen, you might hear honesty,
singing a song of home - small alleys
leading to the beach, lined with seashells
and memories. You could hear it.
But you won't.
This place is quiet in a way
that sets your teeth on edge,
so quiet that it is thick with undetectable
white noise. There is no soft sigh of sleeping
loved ones, no gentle waves or rolling pebbles.
Only quiet. Quiet. Quiet.
The feeling of never finding home,
or never finding feeling at all,
it's a sound. If you listen, you just might hear it.

I can tell, you're pushing me out.
You're growing tired of having me around.
It's obvious and makes me feel as though
I could just drown...
I never thought the day would come
when you'd want me out.

I run from the Present
Living in my past.