I still feel you. The way our hands locked, your sweet, echoing laugh, the goals we once had: unfinished. Your essence lingers on my heart like a tattoo. No matter the time or energy, I still feel you. It’s days like these that make you wonder how many stabs, pokes, and stings we’ve all endured, and if it’ll ever be enough for my love to disappear.

a. wild.

the garden wasn't kept up
potting soil smoked by ***
mindsets rotting cacti who’s thoughts
were drowning from a drought
it was like a killing in there
no green leaves to spare
lacking sunshine, she could only stare
into the eyes of growing despair
swept up dirt, it birthed precision
added water to vibrate my vision
in this state, how can she make decisions?
sitting in the garden is more like a prison

even the most beautiful things are messy
in my heart and yours, humble hours
I can’t tell if the universe is testing me
on if I can understand intuition
or if it’s a lesson in overthinking
my mind tells the truth, 24/7
Loud noises, full of pebbled ideas
before growing into boulders,
molehills into mountains
how can I make the changes
that deplete these messy days
It looks like a weight on me
but it’s an adventure just beginning
as much as I can’t see it
each and every day a little closer
climbing so high, till I can’t breathe
Even if it might **** me

Sometimes
being an artist alone makes you miserable.
channeling your emotions to create art:
it makes the pain last forever.
To paint it on canvas
confess some written word
or tunes in your ears
it will last, it was preserved
& even if all you wanted to do was forget
you can’t

you can paint these emotions
write the words that shake your soul
tell the bold, gruesome details
in colors and phases,
mediums to help embrace
The pain you feel, the stress you steal
from your own consciousness
To make art?
but **** that
why can’t it be so simple
that I, yes, am the art.
it’s my life that I made to start
and like art, i am a work in progress
trying to process life’s questions.
so like these poems or those paintings
They are a piece of me, like an arm or leg
chopped from my soul, taken by ghouls
And even with a little part that of me
…
I can’t seem to love myself
like I would a piece of art

amongst the pains
burning up and down my spine
your heart reeks of darkness
like a volcano ready to burst
each living day, each loving girl
building on a mountain of ash
you don’t know what love is
corrupting souls, collecting wounds
how is it you feel, this broken chest
is fit for falling hearts?
when exposed all the fury
melts away at them
grasping, fighting for survival
when all in the end, on your terms
burns them alive

So many days
I stare into wandering space,
Wondering how I let myself get here…

How could I let you in:
Energy so mangled and searching
For someone like me,
To drown away everything that you were:

It was a lie,
Really, I was a graveyard for you:
To lay down your sins
Never let me in, and still somehow…

You think I won
taking the bare minimum
scraping by each day hoping
you would stop causing me pain.

Its true,
Loving you was suffering, like running a little hamster wheel
tripping, exhausted and yet
It was only for you to gain…
It was all a game.

All said and done,
I dont feel anything for you
I dont know why i did it
the only thing i know is

I'm ashamed to have loved someone like you.

a.wild