I keep strawberry plants in my garden
for they give good yield with little toil
and the sweetness of self produce is greater
than something bought

I keep strawberry plants in my garden
and one in particular seems promising
it's not big in size, but it has many flowers
the promise of summer fruit

I keep strawberry plants in my garden
I watch over them from my window
and I dream of what they'll bring
especially that unseeming one in the corner

I keep strawberry plants in my garden
I water them in the absence of rain
and I **** out grass and other alien plants
so they may grow unhindered

I keep strawberry plants in my garden
and they are starting to show signs of fruit
but one of them is dying
suddenly, it just turned brown

I had a strawberry plant
it was my favourite
it bore such promises
it died and I care not for the rest

the universe has hits and misses,
and i guess i'm just a miss.

but if you zoom in on the quantum foam
you'll see the bits of bliss.

need i remind you what this is?

it's stupid, isn't it?

I walk this empty halls with great stride.
The remnants of the fallen is excruciating.
My hands tremble with the fate that I have.

Endless battles from nameless enemies,
Wars and combat with unseeming cause.
Fight me, oh fight me and then hang me.

How long will this triumph fade?
For the sky is crying.
One eye of mine can see tomorrow,
But other eye is still lost on yesterday.
I have to end it all no regrets.

Tell me what sorrow feels like
When will the hurt be over?
How much will I tolerate?
This wounds I am left with, I am scarred and dented.

Fear me and call me lonesome for combat.

Not an easy thing
I am shriveled and weak
So see through my eyes
I am small and meek

Look into my head
A constant chatter
A thousand thoughts
Echo that I don't matter

I'm grasping at straws
And wishing on stars
That I could see any value
Underneath my scars

Do you think I don't beg
At night as I scream
Desperate for relief
Desperate to dream

So far I am worthless
No inherent use
My entire existence
Is unhinged and loose

So throw me away
Lend me some meaning
So that when I am gone
It won't be so unseeming

Let me do what I can
Vicarious meaning or not
So perhaps I'll wake up
Instead of laying to rot

Deep within her woeful eyes,
  A calmness remains.
The absolute soothsayer of lies
Where a cryptic phantasm resides—
  All imprinted upon these cold chains.

Her circadian rhythm sings of resonance—
  Decay drowning every mile.
Time is an immeasurable distance,
Void of every cosmic existence.
  Yet, still there lives an ill-imposed smile.

Doom weds Immaculation
  On the blackest shank of evening.
Sweet memories collapse with imagination—
Seen as over indulgent frustration.
  And all that seems is unseeming.

Shadows of infinite guilt
  Plague the weary quintessence.
Doubt whispers of pains rebuilt
When tepid blood was spilt
  Upon the very death of acquiescence.

Thus she speaks of mourning mists,
  And redemption exhales one final breath.
Turning away from all that exists,
Knowing that silence persists
  That life is life; death is death.

Shattered, like a mirror, in so many pieces.
The reality crashing in, like a wave of unseeming destruction.
I take a step, but instead of forward, I feel myself lean back.
Words choke in my throat and grab my tongue, invoking silence.
The cage around my heart tightens and doesn't let go.
But instead, squeezes tighter with each word from your mouth.
I hear them, but they leak out in jumbled phrases, and I try to comprehend.
My anxiety flees and all that is left is the fury of hellfire.
Bright, red, flames.
How did you do this? Why did you do this?
Those three precious words you tell me seem more like daggers
Slicing my hands, my heart, my eyes.
So precious and sweet, turned painful and cold.
Icy, with no feeling.
I want to comfort you, take hold of your face and hug out the ache,
Wanting to tell you it will be ok, and I will be there, but, I can't.
The knives are too dug too deep, and your touch feels, slimy.
Fire and ice, comfort and disgust, sacrifice and pride.
I can't work away how I feel or what I feel.
I just hurt. Everywhere. And there is no cure to soothe it.

One day, unseeming,
The babbling brook
Stopped speaking--
She ducked her little head
And sunk beneath
The rocky pebbles,
Hoping to listen
And find out what the trees
Had been saying--
Now that she wasn’t
Intercepting them.
But, in doing so
The pacemaker of her stream
Died out and stopped beating.