It kills-
Knowing I'm the pain
flickering inside
your eyes.

I am not scared of the monsters under my bed
or the ones you told me as you went home from
summer camp—(bonfire stories near the lake
of green-eyed goblins and moon howlers with
famgs that oversee the mountains)

I am in fact afraid of the monsters that knock
at 2 am in the morning prying my wooden
chambers of sanity like its playground

—giants that stay on top of my body as the
strongest and closest gravity I could ever know

—two little voices of small people debating
in a prosecution against myself. One brings me
dishonor, another brings me out of dark,
empty cells

—a vampire of the day that ***** out life
as the sun rises to its crown. Once done, I am yet to
fall in a haze of delirium and ecstasy of the sunlessness
that precipitates in my heart

I am afraid because I know them too well. But the thing is,
**they know me better

When does love become dangerous
When is it really crazy
At which point does one stop and think
This is not healthy

Because she's all you think about all day everyday but its okay because its just a crush. You're in love. You want to know her more. So you imagine making her smile and putting your fingers through her hair.

He's started to message you a little too often;

Where are you?

What are you doing?

Who are you with?

I'm outside.

When you rely on a person to validate your entire existence. To be the reason that you breathe. To be the be all and end all of everything you know.

When you're both sinking and foolish hands grab at eachother instead of swimming up towards the light. When you're too far gone to let go no matter what.

Honey love is a crazy thing from the moment you 'fall' into it.

A verb: to move from a higher to a lower level, typically, rapidly and without control.
To descend and plummet you dwindle and decrease individual being for that other.

Don't.

Darling don't fall in love. Believe me its not worth it. Stand in love. Stand with him, stand with her, hold hands and love shoulder to shoulder, feet to feet. Meet your love head on and make eye contact.

To make a poem is simple
All you need is

Nights of tears
A bit of blood
A lot of pain
A touch of peace
Heaps of feelings

All you need is

Pure exhaustion
Fear
Anger
Love
Sadness

All you need is

A whole load of
Emotion

Then when that explodes
Out of your body
You just need to somehow direct
All of it onto
A piece of paper

That's how you make poetry

In the thicket, among the ferns did it dwell, Ill fortune to
Those who do did find upon themselves.

Lost in talking woodlands, trees whispered on breezes
Unheard by mortal sense but they did not like the perils
Of mans thought.

Ever consuming the natural order, leaving tears of sand.
Unfertile moments wherever a footstep did leave its mark.
Could this vestige of a time that was older than mans
Thoughts continue.

The trees did whisper and that which dwelled a keeper of
natures beauty of all that was of the in unison with the
Cycle ever flowing in this ancient bark.

Stories told saplings of times before where friends stretched
Higher and further than any leaf could glide upon trees
Whispers that motioned as if a breeze had glanced upon
Leaves but they were of unheard spoken word.

Beware you of mortal coil as the muttering of leaves will
Sign that which watches from beneath the thicket
For if you come as friend only collecting fallen twigs
Of trees words dead on the ground.

But if flame or axe is wielded upon a brother or sisters
Of bark, then I the earth you shall fertilize, your end
Feeding nature that you had in turn tried to harm.

I am of dust, from dust.
Time has created me.
And time will **** me.
The greatest serial killer--
Mortality.
I am not a good man.
I will fall again, again.
I am time
(watch
me
watch
me
watch
me)
I am nobody
Eating insanity
I am of attention, from attention
this land of gray rubble--
Endless-- endless
time-- watch it constrict me
watch
please dear god i am not immortal.
I am a dead man.
In a dead land.