final acts are what?
                                                                ­                               reloading…

and shall i become the poet or the reader
will i destroy myself for all that i am
or lose everything that i've become
for the ones i love

is it going to end in the favor of kafka
or will i become dosteovsky's illegal



                                                     ­                       server not responding

illegitimate, always thrown around
am i the nickel or the coal
will you put me in the furnace to find out?
please don't let the temperature rise too high
i've got burns, and they hurt as they might
if i get singed any more—i'll be turning to coal
pressure makes diamonds, i'm not sure i can handle anymore



                                                      ­                                         refreshing

something so cynical is up with me
i have been so well, you can almost make believe
but then it hits
in quieter moments, ones where only i persist
and i listen,
i listen and i grasp,
i grasp and i see the eyes—
the eyes and the words that are said



                                                         ­                          404: site not found

it is time, time to throw up my hands in surrender
i'd promised to walk the lengths
but the rate it has been draining is almost...
there is nothing to admit, my heart is so-so tender



                                                       ­                                       rebooting...

deluding myself in illusions of you
all that you are, and all that's coming to truth

and suddenly i've lost it all
only to find it again
it's there, residing as residues in my head
and for a moment—
a flicker of doubt,
a bulb in the distance,
hope,
but suddenly it goes out



                                                          ­   all the work gone — wiped out

the moment i take a step towards
ought to take three back
and it's on repeat
the music in my head,
the catastrophic failure it has become
flashing right across my eyes
please, it hurts really bad



                                                         ­ cache memory remains — clear?

and i feel it—
losing,the fear,
the fear of never having it again
but then i write,
i get it back and i do
and it's not the same, never the same



                                                         ­                           error. error. error.

but it feels like it could lead to a newer bloom
and maybe returning isn't so bad
send me a song, one that we've shared
send me a quote, one that we've memorized
send me a memory, one that we've lived
and say it out loud, loud enough for all the voices to hear it tonight



                                                      ­                                400: bad request

it hasn't been real, all i have listened
but it's been everything, all that you've given
and i treasure, i treasure the little somethings
this one speaks like love's betrayal
but it's merely the prompt's beginning



                                                    ­                          connection timed out

going down the path of exaggeration
could you forgive
when i say, the animal i loved beckoned me over
and then i read, if it ought to come to you, to let you pet
means it saw love, saw you and went,
"oh there's love in there"
but i got a scratch

is it toxic
why do i still love the cat then?



                                                       ­                     server not responding

it has dissipated,
been in my head since forever
long since it erupted
and i've texted,
i've called,
i've mentioned them all
the vines on my wall
come down one by one
i put them back
but there's only so much i can run



                                                          ­                              session expired

i've been thinking of pausing,
of stopping,
of holding
and i might, i might just—speak in riddles,
commit felonies, make it brittle
and you'll hate me

is it not easier to exist
being hated, spoken over and about
knowing i walked out as the villain
you don't even show the real face you preach about

it'll go longer,
and a bit more
i could end it
but i can't seem to hurt you
or speak out loud to nevermore



                                                    ­                                       critical failure

it isn't about you, or you, or you, or even you—
it's about the things they've done,
said, spoken out loud, whispered in the nights,
promises and factual omits, that have become the root

oh! the irony
it plays so well
i get the blame, you get the fame
i think it's all going well according to your plans

so i sit,
i stare,
i wrack my brains—
only if i could think, those thoughts a bit fewer

i lie in silence
of the nights that scream grave peril
and there's stars on my ceiling
i remember how we've become them
we were all stars to begin with



                                                         ­                                    system crash

the taste of flesh
i wonder how it feels to you
is it raw, juicy, or does it smell weird and seem chewy to you?
that's my heart, by the way—
the one you grip, tear apart with your teeth
you've bitten into many more
i wonder how do they still seem to exist

i feel bad though
you let yourself become the monster,
covered and hid in the skins of all the ones you murdered
it's not real—do you see you when you see yourself in the mirror?

party for you. party on you.
part of you knew

you lied, so did i
but i, to save, and you, to aim
so now i've got an arrow pointed at my head
you smile, say i'm all you had
"you could backstab"
but i don't, i won't and you know it too
i'll face you as i grip the arrow off of your hands,
stab myself with it, while you scream for me to mend
you'll see as i bleed, but never cower
you'll drench yourself in my blood, as you've done a hundred times over
and you'll return, asking for it to be wiped off
i'll bleed myself dry once again, stand up
and come here to blow the steam by writing—very odd?



                                                         ­                     restore point missing

am i weird, i wonder
but i've had it before you, and i will—the second after
my love, once the curtain rips
it's only a moment, and your world will glitch
and suddenly, they'll all see
the wolf in sheep's clothing
and i, will be there—in the background
watching as the ground erupts, and you fall to the flames
i'll wish you luck, i'll hand you water
but just like you gripped off my inhaler when i needed it the most,
i'll throw away the extinguisher, it's funny, but the only rhyme—
you'll be turning to toast.




                                                      ­                           fatal error occurred

and for her final act of love
she shall distance, hoping to be understood
being seriously misinterpreted,
knowing the flaw in her mind
is not being able to accept the game
when it's finally started betting on lives

she was never the one for fame



                                                        ­                      infinite loop detected