I'm an emotional mess

with starry eye gaze.

My head full of ideas

quiet down by so-called friends.

I'm a fantasy and a nightmare

all rolled into one.

If I put my work in a week:

Mondays are depression,

Tuesdays are fatigue,

Wednesdays are fighting days,

Thursdays are dreams,

Fridays are slumber walks,

Saturdays are Nirvana with eyes wide open,

Sunday are screams.

No matter the second, the day, or the year,

I face every Sun and Moon with an optimistic mood,

and a teary smile.

I carry my hopes in my heart,

my strength in my fists,

a silver spoon tongue,

and all my wits

as I face the world that told me I would only ever breath water.

A fish-goat, scapegoat, use

Me as an excuse to

explain away your evil deeds.

My shimmering blue lies cover

Oceans of pain from your

Prying eyes, I’m

Sorry.

I’m sorry.

For what?

For what, for everything...

For everything.

For everything I’ve done.

Guilt weighs more than my body,

What is a body?

It’s just a shed to house

the tools of my mind.

what is it like to know that everything you do is the stars bleeding out into the emptiness of space and that all of those things that they say just don’t matter if you close your eyes and breath in without moving or ever feeling for one second that you can’t do what you’re meant to do and that you can’t ever believe it without the cold hard truth of what you were before all the stars died away before your eyes

and what is it like to feel the warm arms of love and to be a sweet secret that no one has uncovered like an uncorked bottle that floats dismally through the ocean waves and never comes to dry ground where the sands of time slowly and tenderly wear it away like a bird in an empty attic that’s been left for all the other bright and shiny things which glimmer and rattle but are all so cold

wouldn’t it be great

if

all the world went deaf

for just a moment

and all was still

;

sometimes

i wonder what would

happen in that

instant

if the world went deaf

1

Living off of dreams and drinking cold water

With a little bit of luck and not much else 

2

Instead of this once, there is an un-timeless

Nests are for birds, but men like to share

3

Figments and fractures that take all the courage 

Seem like a dust that never says never

4

Wish there was love in the depths of the circle

But prophecies come and never go far

5

They fill in the gaps with stardust and glitter

Sometimes waking up things that don’t breathe

6

Figurehead spirits and flea market treasures 

Get it all wrong with nothing to keep

Gift wrapped bones

And 

Birthday parties,

Melted dolls

With 

Blackened skin

It’s a long way down.

blurry faces

scented like 

cotton candy 

and cigarette smoke

bustle past

as i sit

and listen to

the rain.

ten wooden birds

lined up on a perch

with

beady glass eyes

and

plastered on feathers