My insomnia is back
Mind is outta whack
This isn't really poetry
But I think you know that
Thoughts of something heavenly
Looking back on past memories

*******, I need to do something with my life
I write poetry
and have written a few stories
Tried programming as well as screenwriting
which I enjoyed immensely, but it costs too much money!
So here I am, back again with a poem
Another form of a story
I like it a lot
and have been writing them for about six months
And I'll write them again and again
Until my heart stops beating
Does this have meaning?
I don't know, it's rhyming
So it must mean something

Anyways, I don't know what to say
I thought I had it today
But in darkness comes the devil
His presence ever so powerful
Telling me I am special
But I struggle, yet he smiles
Saying that I have potential
Which I can't even fathom, not in this world of mine
That I'd like to abandon
Nah, I'm only kidding
It ain't too bad
No idea where it's heading
But I'm glad
Because I hate spoilers
Just as much as my handlers

That's a joke, I ain't controlled
I would go on and on
But I ain't going down that rabbit hole
My time is on a tight schedule, I don't got all-day
Another joke, ain't that funny?

You are wasting time though honestly
Reading this poem filled with much variety
Quite interesting though, wouldn't you say honey?
Yikes, a major yikes
That was pretty cringe, but hey
You're alive! maybe lost a few brain cells
But you already lost 6 billion from reading this poem
Ain't that swell?
You should see no difference though
You're already dumb
And quite frankly, appear to be a major eyesore
You look like something from Mordor
Now that's a joke

I'm sure you look great
A person that all should appreciate
Perhaps someone with heavenly energy
Something I wish to duplicate
But I can't, because I can't escape
Not from these snakes
I have a role I must play, which is fake
So many roles, so many faces
All  of which I can't break

I don't even know the real me, what I want to be
I thought I enjoyed writing
Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy writing poetry
But I don't really have that same feeling
When it comes to writing stories
What I want in life is to be free and happy
No worries, that type of thing
Writing poetry makes me happy
But it isn't stable, it doesn't bring money
What other thing is there besides poetry?
Maybe I'm being naive
Maybe I need to sacrifice some freedom
To have a stable income
But.. that isn't me, oh, I see!
At least I think
Help me, please

Yeah, this was one wild poem
If you can even call it that
It might be random
but that's okay
Insomnia made it whack
But also made me open about my current problem
You know, me not knowing what to be
Will poetry ever save me?
I suppose we will find out
When I wake up
From a deep sleep.

1.
on her arms
carve a delicate
bloodletting

each pinprick
a sandy glint
in her Martian landscape

canals of meaning fill
until finally the storm has left her streaking
like an iron sunrise

on her limbs
the word-tattoos dry
like calligraphy
on tree trunks

2.
she
so mysterious

a
work-of-art
in motion

a
crimson flower
stamped with the light of dawn

1.
Nervous butterflies line my palms with coronal patterns:
silent, colorful eyes that erupt with the crunch and
scald of evolution.

2.
I set a trap of future lullabies and pet names
under your patiently restrained eyes
(which twitch and pause with the muscled power
of romantic possibility).

3.
The wisping curtain of our harmoniously whispered song
flows from the stringed instrument of our meeting eyelashes
and penetrates our concrete-carved defenses
with the sun-kissed beauty of our outstretched,
welcoming palms.

Off to wonderland, a nightmare of a dream
If only you could see

Nothing but a  stain
To those that be
No end in sight, for my misery
so here I lay
Sleeping
To numb the pain
I believed
But I was only deceived

Wonderland, the place
Where you don't make amends
A place where your beliefs
Are canned
The place
Where you'll surly know pain
First hand

It wasn't worth it
But I was desperate
Now I'm ******, forever
In wonderland.

1.
a sculpture of melting ice
evokes the elegance
of your face

boldly
you rise from my inner canvas
like ancient architecture
rediscovered

2.
a flurry of tender brush-strokes
summons the beckoning lines
of your supple body

luxuriant fields of wildflowers
suddenly surround the walls
of my castle of thought

3.
as the trembling landscape
of the present crumbles

nostalgic rivulets of silver and jade
transport me to an island universe:

here all that remains
of the space-time continuum

is the sweet coo of your voice
and the cool crisp glow

of midnight snow

The Sound Of A Teardrop Distilled Into Alien Ears

the faultless sun
sure shot us
an indecipherable gaze
that day

we drifted to the
atmosphere’s edge
naked

like an orchid blooming
against the defunct metal
of an orbiting satellite

we were left stranded
on the rooftop of the world

where regret pools
in wailing shadows

yet
together we formed Pterodactyl wings
and flew away on thin sheets of skin,
the prehistoric wind brimming
with the fitful sleep of ancient matter

2. Her Superior Genetic Architecture

she
a black-skirted spaceship
hiding in the glare of the sun

stepping lightly down
from the clouds

the brightness of her face
swaying under the slow-churning skies

beneath her
doors creak open
in anticipation

the brightness of her face
swaying under the slow-churning skies

the world greedily swallows
her rings of ambrosia
in savory lumps

leaving nothing
for the scurrying insects below

There was this little rat who was fat
Nobody liked him, but I took him in
Gave him a little hat  
And named him Ironclad
"Ironclad the fat rat"

My cat Wiccan didn't like him much
At first, he thought he was lunch
But soon they became friends
True friends till the end
They ate together, bathed together
And killed together
Did pretty much whatever
My two little treasures.

How can this be
"Happy birthday" to me
When anxiety and fear
Has been so near
And now finally upon me?

It feels as though there is something to flee
But what, I know not
Possibly just a passing thought
That this day was so ominous
The potential for darkness
But all that lingers is confusion
Were my anxieties but an illusion?

Wishes to me from those around
But I can only hear one sound
A heartbeat
Then the patter of feet
Upon the hardwood floor
A knocking at the door
"Happy birthday to you!"
Everywhere I turn
But it's anything but-

It feels as though I'm being suffocated
Drowned out and forced down
Into a seat
In front of a small burning heat
Just to listen to them sing
While I sweat a ring
Then extinguish it
Have a bit
Of the sweet below it

Smile for the camera
Watch them as they smother you
Tell you what to say and do
Some say the
Best things come in time
Say a little rhyme
Until the day comes to an end.

- Jay M
May 7th, 2020

Good morning, I hope your well.
Haven't talked to you in a while.
Saw your mom she looks sad I gave her a hug and we cried for a long while. It felt good.

Are you in a diffrent body and when random people smile at me or are nice to me, is that you?

When I see a stranger and i feel like i know that person  thats impossible unless it's you...
! Next time maybe hold a purple bandana then I'll known its you for sure.

I miss our long talks so much has happend over the years and I dont think anyone will fill your place.

I wanted to **** myself the  other day, held my breath underwater till it hurt

I named a scar after you not a healthy reaction I know, but the cuts deep and didnt bleed. It's tough like you.

Good morning. Hope you're doing fine.

Went to sleep because I was stupid enough with a stranger  I was afraid I wouldent be able to find you.
Then I thought maybe I'd find someone who is lost like me and they knew you and you are fine.

I'm still afraid of birds but a crow near my house gets close to me and seems kind and will make weird noises at me some times I feed it and talk to it like it's you.

Sad music makes me feel better.
Were you the same?

Mother said I cannot marry a girl would you have married me?

Good night.. talk to you again.