Category Archives: Poetry

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Signs come in clusters
I thought I moved past this…
I did, but it’s coming up again

When will the delusion of you fade into the blue?
Where?
Deep away I wish,
But it’s just deeply around.

Karmic
Psychic
Stuck, nagging

I could drop everything for you
But you have only dropped me

You are my muse—
the cause of some of my worst confusion and sharpest pains.
You are at the center,
but you don’t deserve any of me.

My heart beats harder towards you.
My body leans in.
I tear, I yearn, my chest literally aches
From loss? From being away?

I can’t feed these ideas,
or else the delusion of you will be made more real.
I can’t help it though…
Is it an addiction? False love? Obsession?

Something about you is so tasty,
but you are also so poisonous.
I can’t resist.

Why do I think of you in chunks?
Why do I binge in clumps?
Why do I see signs of you?
Maybe if the stars align…
Maybe if I never would have met you…
Maybe if I had more clarity…
Maybe…I could just get you out of me for good.

Is it a sin to think of you when I have someone else?
Is the devil playing me as an avatar?
It feels like nothing less, to both.

Maybe it’d feel less painful if I knew you felt it too…
if you felt the beginnings and middles (and ends).
Then I wouldn’t think I was crazy.

It’s not all in my head
because my chest beats and aches and wants to burst.
But all I can do is pretend like you don’t exist.
I need to change my memories of you so there is a new story I can try to believe.

Maybe one day,
I’ll actually be done and I won’t slip into old hopes.
It’s a black hole.
You are my black hole, sucking the light out of me.
I gravitate towards you and you give nothing back.
Any pull of me to you is just a love event horizon.
You. suck.

It always comes down to:
Is this real?
Or is this just made up from my desires?

I am scum

Depression
Deep impression
Deeply pressed in

Being pressed down by…life?

I am weak, but I am heavy.
So, so heavy.
So dense I am made by being crushed so hard.

I am so numb,
maybe as a defense…
because all the emotions are so intense in all directions.

Running away.
Observation.
Running away.
Hiding.
Sharing the tip of the iceberg.

I am so heavy and sad.
This state always tells me that it’s here to STAY,
that it’s actually my natural state.

Are you here to stay?
Of course you are…but are you who I really am?
You come in…making me feel oh so hopeless.
So hopeless.
So WORTHLESS.

I cannot talk myself out of it, because none of me believes that I am anything more than this…all I can do is observe it. Play with it. Write about it. Describe it. That feels distancing, but I’m still in the smog. Thick and nasty and suffocating me. There are no expectations because I am shitty to begin with. I try and try and try but it’s hard when I am dirt and just fall back to the ground. That’s where I reside, always. It’s the wind that picks me up…momentarily until I get to fall back to my natural resting place. The dirt. I am dirt. I am shit. It’s just how it is, I’m not being hard on myself. It’s just how it is. I’m not being mean to myself, I am just politely seeing the truth. It’s relaxing to realize my true state, because I don’t need to wear my masks. I can relax and just be me. A scumbag, worthless, taking from the world and never giving. Ego tries to play me up to more than what I really am. But I can only play myself up so far before I remember: I am worthless. The thought of that makes me feel settled.

I’m not trying to be emo, or dramatic. I’m just trying to understand myself. This is the only thing that makes sense. I AM depression. I am the dirt, the scum. Actually no, scum and dirt implies that it was once something? I was never anything. I am nothing. (But I am still dirt and scum).

I am scum and that is true and simple. Might as well have fun with it? I have nothing to lose because I have nothing. I can only go up from here…maybe, idk, except I am nothing.

smh

Fuck.

Why are you still around?
You don’t want to be here,
and I can’t have you near.

Because you’d wreck me again,
destroy any ounce of faith and desire
that I could give to someone.

It’s been years, and it only lasted months,
if that,
and if it was even real.
I can’t tell if you we you were real.

I know how I felt.
You told me once how you felt,
years after…

But sometimes I think was it was a way to appease me
and maybe keep me dangling.

Nothing makes me more confused than this.
Nothing has me more empty.
Nothing had me more.
Nothing.

You entered me last night from behind,
it was just a hug,
and it was just a dream.
But a part of you has returned into me,
resemblances that took me so long to try to throw away.

None of these words get at what I’m trying to say.
I don’t wanna call you an enigma,
because I don’t want you to know that I think of you,
and put you on a pedestal.

I don’t want you to know that sometimes…
I’m scared I won’t ever get over you.

You think I’m scared of death?
I’ve done it a million times.

Lazy days

Phone off, forgotten somewhere.
Loose, flowing, brushed hair.
Zero fucks given & I don’t care.
Off to the inner world I dare.

No meeting, no projects,
only reading for fun.
Clean here, clean there,
hair now goes up in a high bun.

No obligations, no people,
I’m left with myself.
Usually, this is a blast,
but sometimes I wonder about killing oneself.

I’d rather use my off days for this:
processing emotional, confusing bullshit,
then waste what little reserves I have,
and let my “social life” take a hit.

Lazy days are the best days of all;
I get to watch aspects of me crumble and fall.
This may seem depressing and small,
but out come little gems, like this here scrawl.

Four Scores and (Eighty-) seven Whores Ago…

Cycling through all the memories I hold,
attempting to craft up a new ending,
I realize I have chapters left untold
to the stinging king–character: a fling.

Ooo, baby! Did you just hear that one ring?
Come on down off your bed-swaying high horse.
Hear my words, feel their essence, let it sting.
Of course, you digress to endorse your “source.”

And no remorse, for my truth you ignore,
or for my emotions you influence.
What does that make me? Lax foyer decor?
Unify like a stagnant confluence.

Once so innocent, you left me in ruins…
a thriving civilization no more.
Merciless and widespread executions,
right before you gently walk out the door

When do I accept something literally
instead of taking it figuratively?

And when will the delusion of you
fade back to the Blue?

Duality Splits Unity

Duality splits unity,
her with he, as he with her.
And after a period of scrutiny
I found that they always were.

Across the ether,
beyond Earth,
I discovered the teacher
through my birth.

Lessons taught come from synchronization.
Lessons learned arise from shatters.
The seed germinates through visualization,
to soon ascend with the masters.

Stay Golden

Transitional Blue,

Moonstruck much?
Totally tempting to touch.

Now, riddle me this:
Is it the quantity of friends that count?
Or the quality of friends that matter?

Lose two, gain one.
Look deeper than the superficial stratum.
What is being lost?
What is being gained?

Ahhh, there you go…
Now do you see?
It’s a lot easier to flow,
When you just let things be.

Last night you fantasized of Indigo Dreams.
In the randomness of the projected schemes
It might seem, a little extreme, a repetitive theme.
Look past that ignorant beam,
Keep acknowledging the gleam;
Your growing esteem,
Into unity supreme.

Stay Golden,
Xo

To Beg Like a Kid in a Candy Shop

Oh,

To be the lover of he who should not be talked of
for others may break the flower pot
and let all beauty fall upon the cold concrete and carry the need to be thrown away.

How it bubbles inside the wanted lover to boil up and over for others to see,
for him to see,
but sometimes one must keep a resolution from themselves until concluded
so the happiness is higher than how it would have been if it was planned.

Within Seconds

Never again, will
I believe anything you say so easily
or hear you out for your explanation.
Real trust doesn’t need tears for a hug

Everything will have to be numbed down.
Happy now?

Underneath it all, who are you?
Obviously…
You are just a scared bastard.

Killing yourself slowly is not fine with me
Can’t handle that?
uhh..
F*** you then.