it's a low-grade panic
lurking in the soul
simmering in silence

i distract
my restless hands
coat my neck in talismans
each layer, a clear gloss
but cracked

reflecting back
what i have lost

i have trained
my train of thoughts
to avoid things that cause
maladies

but something deep
inside of me
rebels against
what i've been taught
seeks out the stops
that ******* me
twists around my limbic tree
so i am left in knots

Like fragments of a shattered broken heart
I've lost my way, and I am falling apart
Yet somehow in this strange unerving mystery
I've found myself at the shores of an endless sea

Running through my dreams afraid of turning
Unwilling to let go of my fragile past
I push myself to the point of breaking
It seems that I not nearly way to fast

I hold myself at night with these tears streaming
I struggle to get past as the dark nights fly by
Unable to face this cruel trick called reality
But i'll keep trying till I reach the clear blue sky

I wish to be held like any other
I wish to be freed from this chained down cage inside
I wish to escape from this never ending scene
But the fates keep telling me I'm far to naive

Standing on the dreaded battlefields
Bullets littering without a moment to lose
Wounded but alive, unlike the rest who died
Though I'll always be haunted by their memory

Crimson red dripping down gently
dying the petals that are scattered down
I'll raise my gun, I'll fire another round
Until the blood in my veins finally run dry

I claim I'm doing it for my friends
To protect the life I live
Are they standing by my side
With all their heads held high

They are hidden down below
As soon as the whistle blows
And I'm forced to march on
To continue this fight

You can't trust anybody but yourself
Thats the way I've been born and raised
At times I forget, get swayed and carried away
But it won't be long before I snap out of that haze

So to the dear world please forgive me
To the people I call my friends too
I cant trust a single soul in this hell
From the beginning I always knew.

Hey!
I’m tending to my garden today,
Do you want to join me?
It’s filled with wonders and wishes and wisdom and walkways.
Stone paths, little picket fences, and plant boxes stacked on windowsills peacefully observing people who may pass by.

I’ve got flowers of all different types.
Earth lilies, Mars marigolds, Saturn daisies.
Neptune forget-me-nots, Pluto peonies, Mercury chrysanthemums.
Planet flowers!

I’ve got trees
that have fresh stars ever week,
ripe and perfect to pick!
I’ve got moon herbs
to make moon dust infused tea!
I’ve got vines that grow with droplets of sunshine
and bloom bearing the brightest of bulbs.

The path stones are asteroids.
Sometimes they land in my garden!
How cool is that?
It’s been hard work, and I should know.
I did it!
I built this garden myself.

It’s not just any garden.
It’s a space garden.
Could you tell?
One carefully crafted from the far corners of the universe.
Planets, stars, moons, you know.

Anyways, feel free to stop by anytime.  
I could always use the company.
It gets a little lonely
being the only thing alive in a garden.
A space garden.

A space garden that doesn’t really need tending,
but I like the illusion of productivity.
I like its beauty.
I like the wonders of a space garden.
I like the calm atmosphere and pretty planet flowers.
I like my space garden.
Even if it gets lonely sometimes.

it all feels like disease and i want to strip my bones raw; manic
(sugar rush deity)

what am i to you… what are you to me, aside from endearing silhouettes; pixie
(mumbling shy songs)

in an ocean of violents in bloom we speak artificial prayer; dream
(cloaked in starry-eyed acapella—thats what they think, no?)

i surrender to your clarity and intensity and charm and beauty that my hands are too numb and dull to touch; girl

and then comes wrath: a dewy vileness teetering on the brink of your 9th life
now hell has harnessed my chest, for it is with deep regret and shaky sobs that every opening and crack in my body emits rotten remains of our silent war…

but there are still heartfelts i never mustered up the courage to let go of:

thank you for tip-toeing around broken strings to reach out once more, twice more
thank you for enduring my futile voyages through resentment
thank you for soaking all my insanity in like sunlight and excreting back out a gentle rainfall

The rose sits
The rose waits
The rose does not talk
The rose does not walk
The rose hangs down
The rose keeps a frown
The rose is permanently stuck
The rose is consequently plucked

I’m 99% weird, I’m sure of it
That 1% tells me to act normal
But I don’t think I hear it often
Sometimes when I sleep
It does request so
But it’s just 1%
It’s not like 99% is normal anyway