Whilom seafarers in rapture,
seven minutes in heaven,
then nothing but bathos,
--a woman in bed,
she and Rembrandt quarreling
over fidelity or obedience to her king?

"It is I, Seagull!"

"Everything is fine. I see the horizon..."

Night sky, a blow torch,
a golden rain flowing between her legs,
curled in the veil of imperial lineage and/or arousal,
--ballistic arc,
peering into the hand mirror,
a breach of promise staring back.

"Will the flight
affect your reproductive organs, Danaë?"

"Conceivably...
and how they shall weep
when things go wrong between us?"

humans are the most pathetic species on earth,
they have no content;
no happiness,
no compromise,
no nothing.
so they ruin things over and over
and try to make themselves feel good by bragging about there misfortune,
and people pity them
when actually the ones who suffer the most are the ones who stay silent because they aren't allowed to talk.

let me show you what a shadow feels like.

blank, dark, unnoticed.

i am my own shadow, in the light.

I've got everything,
A reserve car for when my other breaks
A reserve of boys like a bunch of grapes
A reserved look that makes hearts ache

I've got everything,
Pressure coming from every way
And ice cold hearth and a fake display
A dark mind that's here to stay

I've got everything
A fancy shrink with a nice degree
Enough pills to calm the sea
A strong rope and a lonely tree.

Am I drunk?
Because I thought you loved me
Only to realized you betrayed me
Your hands are no longer warm as fire
But cold as iron
I refuse to hold walk down in life with a cold hand

I am alone,
lost within an empire of ambiguity
surrounded by seas of turmoil
an island of fear battered by waves of hate
its beauty-no more, covered with filth.

lost am I among the dead?
craving for love but fed hate
long for a peace that's all but late
consumed by sorrow.

brought into a world full of greed
I am the fallen, never to be freed
condemned for eternity,-my life,-the original sin.

the scars I carry from battles old,
never to be sealed.
forever seeping the blood of fake bliss
poisoned by spite.

the demons of the past lurk in the shadows of my mind
waiting to appear;
****** am I to wander aimlessly
through a nightmare recurring?

A window of hope is all but gone
blackened by drought and disease.
I have fallen-
doomed to love eternal hate.

You were three blocks away
Going to the same destination
But you wouldn't stop
In the cold and rain
Never asked if I needed help
Didn't offer a ride which would've
Saved me 40 minutes of time
And an awkward conversation
With a man who invited me back to his
I considered his offer
Partly out of spite
Partly out of hope
That he would slash my throat
And I wouldn't have to return home
I rubbed my cheeks, suddenly grateful
No one can tell when you've cried in the rain
I guess we've always been three blocks
Apart from one another, you and I

"Life has its ups and downs"
someone said, and I thought
up and down is a state of mind:
our minds make meanings
of an unknown Destiny
to decide
how happy or unhappy
we should be.
And happiness is complex:
we are happy
about various situations to different degrees,
while being unhappy
about various situations to different degrees.
And unhappiness doesn't necessarily mean 'down':
Is there an experience of joyful-unhappiness?:
when we decide to be unhappy about a situation
while joyfully striving to improve the situation
to increase our joy and happiness.