I wandered outside
With the bright sun and a breeze
And fluffy clouds

I hate to think,
Ten years from now,
That I'm a what an if a maybe
a how.

I hate to think,
Fifty miles down the road,
You'll remember me
And how we shared a load.

I hate to think,
I hate the thought,
That we might not accomplish
the love we sought.

Perfection
Is the mirror image
Of a soul
The same
But opposite

That reflection
Is who you are
And
Who you are
Meant to be

it shall quench
the thirst of the
vampire
moon bats
the tender
neck of the
blood moon

a walking climb through
static lines
for location scouts
seeking Dignity that eludes
building blocks writing stutter with
shaky hands
impatient with unfamiliar terrain
and don’t mind screaming
out complaints
in (sub)conscious
assured the natural morphine
that kicks in during physical is also true in psychologicals
excruciatingly painful aware &
will cover the tracks left behind,
as diagnosis exhausts itself
because it hasnt met you, &
will not get
there.
all ologies in the world
are gonna fail
you.my
inkstained eyes
seeing ill plains and sowing light.

oh god i just wish i'll be something you'd miss

Missing you comes in
waves;
Tonight I am
drowning.