Uneasy wish (am I worse)Leaves touch the air in solace of ash.Will you still love me because of how I am?Just a pile laying thereLike a starving child: your sweet, marzipan hands.
More than enoughGeneral love is when your mere existence is more than good enough for me.
PerhapsI've yet to imagine how the sage lives...Perhaps,Always busy yet always available for help.
Dream books: chapter 1: The assasin"That won’t be enough.""It already was.""But it doesn’t hurt at all…""Because you have nothing to feel it with…""I can still see you.""Yes, when you die, you still have the awareness.""It’s like… I’m still inside my body.""It will change soon.""Yea, I see it now.""Goodbye! Mission accomplished."
I hate to sleepI hate to sleep. Those untold legends of darkness, who's shadow is greater than any earthly possesses. Those metaphoric forms of death, those impure resurrections of your (so believed to be forgotten) ground-shaking traumas, or pillars of menace in past or future.But these are not bad. These are milestones.The real deal here is: Whenever I decide to set my eyes shut, I order my world of aware to go stop. I jump, shake my body, back to reality: "Where's my world, where's me?" I ask ‒Before my conscious world will fade to black.But what all this mess for? Why do I do this, when all Untouchable's treasure, land of wonder is there?Because it's a metaphor: it reminds me of how I did, or would close my eyes in reality.
Fire against fireIf you had enough from black, than you have to find something that is not black.
AdaptationWhen you see someone love who you hate, open your eyes big, so you can learn how to.
StressSpikes and wiresRasp the skin underneath.The Intestines:Paper crumple.
EmotionCan only reflect what's inside.
I'd Rather Be DeadYou're always asking me if I had anything worth dying for.I'll pose the opposite to you and ask you this:"Why is it that you find life to be worth living?"Is it so interesting to go through each day feeling anxious?To the point that you feel nauseated enough to collapse.Is it so joyous to spend each night staring at a blank ceiling,Hearing the clock tick on toward morning,And yet you lie awake.Tired, but awake, emotionless, but awake...Do you truly get up each day, facing it with optimism.Or do you look at the news and the state of the world,And genuinely fear for your safety?Now, if it were me that you had asked my dear,I'd tell you quite honestly: That I'd rather be dead.At least I would not have to hear the white lie inside my head.That tomorrow will bring me a 'better' day...But of course, you are welcome to believe that.
Stripping MeYou may take what you want from me,Be it my pride or dignity.You may throw insults at me,And burn the shredded pieces of my sanity.You may belittle me, as much as you want,If only to make your meager life worth living.---But even if you do all that...---No one will protect you when I pull you into the dark.No one will try to search for you, as my leather ropes tie you down.No one will hear your screams as metallic screws drive into your face,Etching an eternal smile, since you'll never leave this place..."Now then, my dear sweet James, shall we play our favourite game?"
You are someone's reason to liveShe had skin like a cactus-believing shecould only hurtanyone who gottoo close,forgetting thatinside,she held whatpeople neededmost.
collisionsi.it is dark, unfamiliar,but your fingers seek out his,and you know thenthat you are at homein his harmonyeven if justfor now.ii.hold him;he's incendiary, sure.a veritable (volatile)molotov cocktail ofnot-okaywatch as he emerges,ashen-limbed from a cocoon of youto entwine with the threadsthat hold you sane.iii.smoldering indolentcoal-flicker eyelidswant nothing more thanto hiss and steam;than to coolin your stillnessiv.redolent of broken-record risk-taking chances untilthere's nothing leftbut scratches and glitches in the wordworki mean woodwork,i mean, skin.but oh god, he loves youjust like this,like that,this way.v.this is a choice:you may destroy him,extinguish his flamesand half-bury him inthe ashy remnantsof his own conflagration but it's an impotent powerthat is granted, not taken.
i'd haunt you if you'd like.my hands are paralyzed and you're waiting for me to touch your face,but that doesn't really matter because i'd rather touch your souland if you close your eyes long enough i'll read you poetry as we lay atop the monkeybarsin this old and rusted parkyou can pretend to know the constellations and point them out to me and i'll tell you they're all beautiful, but nothing compared to youif i'm lucky you'll blush and laugh at me,tell me i say the dumbest things but deep down it'll register in your soul just how much i love youand i know they say you can only save yourself, but darling i swear if you'll just have the slightest bit of faith i'll save the fuck out of you or i'll destroy myself trying,because i honestly can't think of any other purpose for my lifeor what smidge of it i've been able to hold on to.
Hopeful HeartThe sky is pitch blackAnd so is my heartAfter all the painI went throughAfter all the effortFor a lost causeSo I look upLooking for a starA ray of lightTo guide me awayAway from this darkness inside my heart
FinaleMy world is destroyed.It's okay.My tears will goTo the exact same place.