reteaching myself artithmatic
variables and integers and invisible numbers
no longer the wallet or the will to return to university
instead resilient effort
of comprehending without hand
and now I can feel the ethic in the space resting between the cap of my pen
and
my curling lip.
feeding on knowledge
sustiaining dissatisfied soul.
maybe,
im just ******' tired of being an artist.

Symbolism set before my eyes was never captured well
Every mitch-match color-washed mistake was one that went unnoticed
Before me now, I have to choose,
Do I stick with the ultra misunderstanding,
Or do I learn to accept the way of the world?
Do I fight for what has been living inside,
Or let fate show things good and new?
These days,
I'm reteaching myself how to form memorable bonds
It beats sitting alone,
Reliving the old ones
Returning to past lives and past states,
When It's tearing out the senses,
And replacing them with tales,
Some of which aren't even my own,
Some of which never happened,
And will never occur

Questioning my motives and thoughts
Reteaching myself to be Love in its purest form
Unaware of the battles going on inside my head
Your smile brings comfort to my beautiful days
Rose pedals that fall
And the Name that calls mine Its own
Shown to be great beyond imagination
Beyond imagination
Lives people and places and times never experienced before
Refusing to let the light of my spirit fade because they are depending on me for freedom
From darkness
Apart from this there is nothing more than what meets the eyes
3 times i blinked only to find that my reality is really not yours
And conversations go 4 ways between 2 people
With 7 people in their heads
Feeding them words that causes the dead to rise up and walk
Small talk walks the surface
Of our lives and the wise are content with staying above ground
But its deeper than that
The reason we are at peace is because ignorance is bliss
I wish and i pray for the day of Truth

every time my phone vibrates, I hope your name flashes across my screen.

I know it's irrational to think that you would ever text me, but sometimes hope deceives me.

It's all wishful thinking.

I read somewhere that whatever is meant for you will truly be yours.

Words haunt me now and you continue to stain my skin. When the sun sets and night settles into my bedroom it reminds me of you.

I never told you how I wanted to unwrap your skin,
see what's underneath,
discover why you always feel like home.

Maybe you are nothing more than a lesson I was supposed to learn the first time but kept reteaching myself.

I always thought you would stay every time I left.
That's the thing about patterns, you get used to the rhythm.

I can't remember the last time we spent autumn together.

I can't stop thinking about how you never used to sleep. I hope you are sleeping these days.