if pain speeds the art
pierce away, pierce away

-cj

If art is defined as the expression of something beautiful or extraordinary,
then you, my dear,
are a *masterpiece

If a dream is defined as a conception created by the imagination
and has no objective reality,
then you, my dear,
must have stepped out of my Parieto-Occipito-Temporal junction,
and into the plane of reality
Because you make me wonder if I'm still in a deep slumber, lost in an enchanting reverie,
while my eyes are *wide open

we seesawed on sallow vines,
it gripping the crux of me
mid-swing,
pioneering through overcast intuition,
yet seemingly nearer to the light.

If I were a Wordsmith, with power in my pen,
I would write your demise, a slow, painful end.
I would cut you so deep, with my words you would bleed,
The pain overwhelming, with each word that you read.
You would choke on every promise that you had ever broken,
You would hear me loud and clear, though no words ever spoken.
My emotions catch fire, and now your suffocating,
You begin to understand, but all this time I've spent waiting,
Has made me cold and numb to all you may need,
Your cries fuel my fire, my thoughts gasoline.
If I were a wordsmith, with power in my pen,
I would make you feel the pain and the weight of your sin.

Hide me from these false hopes of life cycles
for they are tempting quietude.

I don't care who I was in my previous life,
as long as I can make this one work.

Take away these choirs of chaos,
for they become mad kings.
And I refuse to be their hymn.

Converging into one line
and the concept of fairness
mingles with the immature tendencies
above it all
I am divergent
I drift
and I am singly afloat
I jump from skyscrapers to survive
landing in that same spidery net
that I think saves me each time
I descend through the cruel air
Dauntless-
What am I
Did I spill my blood for this

-cj

the idea
that it would never end
scared me immensely
but the idea
that it would
also catalysed a fear in me

-cj

He asks
what do you mean
and I say
I don't know
I'm a poet

-cj