Ever think that the world
Does nothing but tear us up
And beat us down
Because it knows that it is just
A ball of dirt
And we are made of stars?

The universe talks to me.
And right now it's saying you're no good for me
Everywhere I turn, I see how we would not work
We're too similar
We don't add to each other's character
We don't grow together - we grow alongside each other
We believe the same things - but when we don't, we can't hear the other out.
I don't want to listen.

We drown in each other's eyes but claw up each others minds
Planting traces of explosives that time will force together
Into a whole, ready to shatter
And take with it our sanity,
Our mutual care
Our love

You're no good for me, the universe tells me
It gives me many alternatives,
Throws people in my path
Brings back old friends, previous acquaintances, long-forgotten memories
I'm not listening yet.

The universe tries to talk to me
I don't want to listen
I want to drown in your eyes like you drown in my voice

The universe tries to talk to me.
I don't want to listen.

But you don't talk to me anymore.
Should I start listening?

Why does one write?

What fickle emotion caused an individual to pour their thoughts into this fickle little beach we call reality?

Is it joy?
Such a blooming emotion that sends gentle waves that lap upon the shore,
Changing the way it looks over time,
Until one day it is unrecognizable lest you squint your eyes really hard,
and turn your head just-so.

Is it love?
That soaring thing that can bring new perspective to a shore that you have seemingly memorized through years of meandering along it's lengths,
Making everything bright and new again.

Is it anger?
A maelstrom that drives into the shore with an almost unatural fervor,
Furrowing and scarring the shoreline in a single night,
But it's effect lingers for many years to come.

Is it nostalgia?
That message in a bottle that you always seem to stumble into while exploring the shore's short length,
Only to realize that the messages have arrived always just a bit too late,
Not enough to cause a noticable impact upon the beach to an outsider,
But brings new meaning to the person who finds it.

There's an exit sign above the shrine.
It reminds me I can leave at any time.
There is no clock, though.
That reminds me that it's all relative.

I can feel your heart ache under your soft, warm skin as I glide my fingers along your gold-mended pottery fractures. Skating on the glaze you've let me peer beneath to reveal your raw materials. We used to use air and clay and water to speak, now we communicate in a wordless language, born of naked otherworldly splendor.  — and  that planet, your body, I long to explore.

Sometimes a threat
Feels worse
Than what’s to come

It’s the feeling of
Ambiguity
And the itch of not knowing

Acknowledging that there’s danger,
But what kind?
It’s unknowable until the moment

Like a bespectacled man
Inside a dark cave
He has the tools, but cannot work

When you can’t lash out
Or even caress
Whatever can do both

When you can’t outsmart
Or out-stupid
Whatever does neither

When you can’t run away
Or charge towards
Whatever needn’t move an inch more

That’s when you let
Instincts
Take you out for a spin

When logic and words are replaced
By snarls and roars
And that’s honestly the best sounds available

When careful movements are ditched,
Flailing arms and kicking legs reign
And you feel every muscle in harmony

That’s when you lose your humanity
But win the fight
And that’s what really matters

But did you really win?
I mean,
You lost your mind wrestling a thought.