me made a pact,
more respect,
less attack,
That's what keeps you in tact,

Not being sarcastic,
Not being narcissistic,
But this is anarchistic,
This is chaotic.

Rhymes caustic,
I'm a fanatic,
Your rhymes antique,
Yes, i'm a freak.

You stay on your side,
i stay in mine,
You lied,
what a swine

The sinking of the mid-afternoon sun has yet to lose its magic, but our eyes are unable to recognize the beauty of this world in our old (enough) age. Our surroundings have not changed, but they have changed us.

We close our eyes, blinded by the sun's reflection in the shallow pools of water on the side of the road. With each car we pass, we are getting farther away from a place we once called home. Shadows stretch from barren tree branches and highway signs trying to hold onto the last light of day, but coming up short.  We all come up short in this life.

Our efforts are never enough to stop this dying planet from spinning around the sun once more, but we still try to at least slow it down so we can finally exhale and let go of the air we've been holding in our blackened lungs since the day we were born

It all moves too fast. One minute you've got your whole life ahead of you, and the next you've somehow ended up stuck in a failing relationship or working a job you hate. You never thought you'd make it past high school, and now you're on your own wishing you hadn't.

We're all just wanting someone to stay up with us on the nights when sleep is the last thing on our minds, but we always end up alone, watching the horizon fade to black. The night sky is starless and as empty as we are. Nothing has changed, but nothing's the same. We didn't grow up to be what we thought we would. The sun sets, but we cannot. We will still be awake to greet it in the morning of the next day of our never ending, meaningless lives.

It's as if someone has painted the windows black, but it is only night, and has been for as long as I can remember. I cannot recall if I have gotten out of this bed today or not. These legs of mine are getting tired of carrying around all the extra weight from too many heavy thoughts. I try to smoke them away, but I just keep breathing them all back in. These cigarettes might **** me, but not if I beat them to it. The years keep adding up, but nothing else does. I'm done hoping for things to get any better. They never do.

Spring has come around once again and the earth is awakening. Green has been painted over yellow ground and the trees stretch their barren branches to the sky praying for new life. The birds dance across the endless blue skies, announcing their return. The days are getting longer. The sun's rays pierce through the clouds. On certain days, I swear I can feel the wind pass right through me, as if I am nothing more than a shadow, a ghost. How I wish it would pick me up and take me with it. I think something inside of me went to sleep for the winter and never woke back up. Cut me open, tear me apart, and you'll find that I am merely a hollow shell, abandoned.

Fields turn to concrete turns to buildings turn to cities turn to dust. Everything in this world is finite. **** or be killed. We are malignant cells multiplying and dividing, incurable, unstoppable. Where we go, death and destruction follow. They're right behind us, pushing to get ahead.

All we touch turns to stone, a grave marker for the earth. We are burying ourselves with it. Ashes and bones are the thrones of the new world. We don't learn from our mistakes, we build upon them.

There is a thirst that cannot be quenched, a hunger that cannot be satisfied. We devour everything in sight, but remain empty. If this is what it means to be human, I'd rather be the mud stuck on the bottom of a shoe, the trash blowing away with the wind, the roadkill abandoned on the side of a highway.

There is a certain heaviness to the air tonight. It fills my lungs with some indescribable feeling that I once had a name for. I know nothing save for the fact that I am completely alone in this concrete graveyard. Shadows of trees take on human form, their limbs bent at unnatural angles. Lights blur and my eyes lose focus.  Airplanes turn to stars, turn to dust, frozen in space, sending signals that cannot be read. Our frequencies travel at different speeds and in opposite directions. Intersection is unlikely, but I believe we will meet again, someday. There isn't a cloud in the sky that doesn't spell out your name. You have dove deep into the depths of my being. My thoughts are tainted, contaminated, and I can no longer separate them from yours. There is no peace of mind. You are the song stuck in my head, the stain on my shirt, the dirt under my fingernails. I head out onto the highway, into the oncoming stream of headlights. Nothing makes me feel more alive than being this close to death. This is me letting go, this is my release. I am here in this moment; you are lost in time.

A moonlit dance beneathe constellations
      not Taurus or Gemini, Delphinus or Orion
                 but stars we named together
                   linking lines from star to star
       hands pointing in air so cold
a tear falls and
                           another
  leaving a roadmap on my cheeks
            that you
                            chase
                           ­            chase
                                                  chase
   ­         lifting the palm of your hand
                 so cold to the touch I shiver
            feeling the beauty of my tears
         that glisten like Venus in the midnight sky
             of this cold Parisian night
  you smile in jest and
     I misplace the space
  between you and I and that sky
  whispering "do you love me?"
    how could I resist the beauty of
                 our second to last kiss.

© Sia Jane