People fear you.
Run from you, try to overcome you,
Defeat you.
Others wish for you.
Desperately need you.

But I live for you.
it does not matter we're all gonna die anyways.
But that is the reason why you should live.
To not die a empty life.
Or to live a boring one.
Do not succumb to death.
Do not let fear swallow you whole.
I will live to die.
To be reborn and do it again.
Experience.

The cycle.
I will greet you with open arms, because once you come for me I will know that I have lived.
That I have created the world around me to serve me.
That even my happiness will live after I die along with my love.
2 things that will live forever on.
Each day a step closer to you and another day to live.
Hello death and goodbye yesterday for I do not fear you.

(I wore blue)

It was spring, I remember.
2022
My mother didnt wake me.
left it to the Sun's golden hue.
When she awoke, "why must you forsake me?!"
Thats when I knew.
We parked in a garden of stone,
So many things to do.
As she rested her grey head,
dressed up in red,
while I wore blue.
Would grammy have been cross?
She was always the boss.
I honestly have no clue...
But for all who may have wondered,
this much I'm sure is true.
No one as sad as I that night,
the night that i wore blue.

-----------
To sit atop
a throne
of pikes
with swin-
ging ankles
grazing clo-
uds of milk.
Above the w-
eary world, a-
way, way up
high.
------‐----------------------------------------
Looking down at salty, earthed disl-
ikes, and infections rankled. When dre-
ssed in robes of silk, unfurled. Woven fr-
om a lowly worms squirming, teary cry.
-----------------------------------------------------------
­A squ-           And, i-                      Thorn
inting             t's pre-                      curls, r-  
  eye m-           y, all, a-                     ed. As
   akes              re tan                       our flo-
   out a              -gled.                       ck, slow-
   shrike.              ----                           ly, die.
      ----                                                      ----

© poormansdreams

Living in reverse,
rewriting our love
in careless verse,
denying all that died
in between sacred seconds
we were able to cry.

I want us to crawl
back to that hole
all our shadows
ever put us.

Even if all we do
is lie to the sun,
become blind to light,
perhaps the darkness,
just the darkness
understands us.

i don't know how to process grief,
so i pick the memories,
put them in a basket,
like apples plucked from a tree.

there they'll rot, pungent and sweet,
until it ferments,
and then i'll get drunk on the memory.

the rancid cider hardly sates the thirst,
but going down it feels like pins and needles,
and my throat swells with a memory reversed.

On the windowsill, all flailing
Legs and desperation—
At times, it attempts to fly
Away, but soon enough it gives
That up as if to say,
“I can’t.”

The movements get smaller and
Slower, but occasionally there are bouts
Of hysteria
(𝙒𝙃𝙔 𝙈𝙀)
Until eventually nothing is left but a
Feeble twitch and really the question
That you should be asking is:
“Is it still alive?”

It is still alive.

It is still alive but it is tired.

Slowly…
Slowly…
Slowly…

i really wanted this to work.... and i know you did too. but the rain started, and the wind picked up and eventually it was tearing things apart. ripping out the roots of thousand year old tree's, washing away the beauty of us.
it rained, and rained and rained and i thought it would stop, i really did. i thought if i could just let the storm pass, let it dry up everything would go back to normal.
but.... it never did it was just getting stronger and stronger until everything was falling apart.
and now i know why storms are named after people.