Do you ever see yourself the way that I saw you?

Have you ever loved yourself the way that I loved you?

You could be set free, if you did either.

We grew inside one another like sweet-smelling mold that we probably should have cleaned up a while ago. 

You liked deleting me as much as you loved me. So you did it over and over again.

Once, I remember you said you felt "obsolete" towards me. You knew exactly how relevant your every aspect was to the way I crumbled in the mirror.

Your name still echoes through the corridors I've walked down in the dreams I don't even remember

But I will never apologize for the arm you may have broken. 

I am not the captain of my ship

I am an onlooker

Panicking as I watch it drown

No one to steer it

No star to navigate it

And I stand and watch

The sea is merciless

Endless waves crash

Against the compromised hull

Seagulls peck holes in its sail

And it seems the other ships

Their rides are smooth

They look towards me

Helpless on the shore

And ask why I can't, won't

Control my ship

And I look on

Stranded on the shore

All I can do is watch

My ship slowly crash

i am so worn down

    from looking in the hall mirror

    & smoking on winter mornings,

        half-conscious

        of a change in tune.

art is a persistent fantasy

    of oil-paintings as calendars

    & touching other people's bodies,

        following railroads

        across adjacent time zones.

these are soft, warm hollows

    on the skin i call mine

    & they have not been kissed yet,

        disregarding

        obsessive misunderstandings.

so i seek love from bleeding hearts,

    only singing when i'm wine-drunk

    & reframe forgotten delicacies,

        taking risks

        i don't have words for.

You didn't have to leave so soon,

Things had just begun, 

and you run away just like you do every time,

Things get a lil hard,

oh boy,

Now you've got a sad face on today.

Torn from angers cloth

I wipe my face 

dripping blood

as a solution

to clean 

the raging agony spilling 

from my eyes

weak solvent 

bleach is of the past

I cleanse with red longing

and dry with the hollowness

of my cries

take what you will

the floor will be scrubbed

remove your hope I can't reach

I'm done

but if you return

take off your words

the floor is easily stained 

and some stains

never come out  

People tell me,

"I wish I were as smart as you."

No you don't.

I wish I were stupid.

I long for it,

I crave it,

The way an addict craves their drug.

The sweet bliss of ignorance,

The peace of inane life,

Would be glorious

Compared to this cursed cognizance.

When you know you're smart,

You work your hardest.

You poor yourself

Into your work

Because you know you can do it.

And when you come up short,

They sigh and say,

"You're too smart for this."

So you keep trying,

Keep pushing and pushing

But never quite reaching perfection.

Eventually, you give up.

Give up, because 

You'll never, ever

Be enough.

It's better to be stupid

Then to always come up short.

don't dry those tears

don't hide those scars

if the world turns its back

they were never worthy of you

yes you'll feel pain

yes you'll regret choices

but isn't that what's supposed to happen?

to learn more about yourself?

who would we be

without the mistakes

of yourself

and others

life is a journey

a journey of mistakes

a journey of regret

a journey of hardships

but if the millions of people in the world

did you really think you had to do it alone?

it may not seem that way

but there is someone

be it a brother

a neighbour

a sister

a lover

you'll find them

they'll find you

a listener

a speaker

a comforter

a friend

someone to be by your side

to listen to your worries

to share the tears

but also to create joyous memories

ones that are worth the pain

maybe they're searching too

for the one soul that understands

go out

look

you aren't alone

not for long

it takes time

the companion of heart and empathetic of soul

and I think I found mine

but I'm willing to wait for her

In the woods a cabin lay

with window panes of ruby red

a door it opens like wind at play

with hairs on larks in tangled bed

Within the walls these flattened trees

a beating thrum is heard in part

the eyes of many will see as they please

but only some will see the heart

Listen and you'll hear the tune

the cabin holds no secrets dim

but if you take this heart devoid of boon

you'll find no rest for your punished sin

This cabin holds a youngster's smile,

a child's trust of one divine

to seek in love this heart beguiled

is to ask of one who says "This heart is mine." 

finally. 

we're doing it, 

we're really going places. 

I heard that you bought a plane ticket, 

so I bought a radio. 

I might take a bath with it.