Many men use November
As an excuse to grow out their ****** hair
I used it to quit smoking.
Neither of the abovementioned
Examples came to fruition for me
Except an itchy neck
And some newfound attitude,
Strange dreams and lingering antisociality.
It’s the adulthood that
Comes with image
Something you can’t see when pondering the dismal
Grey sky like some kind of disembodied muse
And thinking ill of your fondness for it.
Such a pity is the happiness we derive from tragedy.
When prompted, you say your religion
Nihilism. Most people can’t tell
There’s a smile behind the self-effacing humor,
The sarcasm.
To see her riffing on her insecurities,
Is seeing pride shy away from
Its beautiful face
And you know she’s a mirror
Into a heart you abandoned to objectivity,
To brute facts of loss
And she’s the antagonist Zarathustra
Spoke so fondly of
A mirror nature speaks through
The voice you didn’t know you had, the breath that inspires
Confusion
You see your own nihilism.
No songbird beneath the rose of Sharon
Ever refrained so sweetly.

When one lives in the mountains,
Valleys are common
And the winding backroads that fill them,
My mind is frenzied by the tires’ pop and hiss
With a 10-strip of a russet colored pill
Transubstantiated by the visionaries
Foretelling the end of sensation
And peddled by the wellmeaning.
If my psychotherapist has brain cancer,
Who needs their head checked more?
Again and again, I see my fingers reaching out
Enticed by the chemical change.
The homily promises
Anatman, nirvana,
Immaterial whimsies
That briefly entertain your days as a doppelganger
Or harlequin dancer wreathed in
Clear strands of
(RS)-1-[3-(Dimethylamino)propyl]-1-(4-fluorophenyl)-1,3-dihydroi­sobenzofuran-5-carbonitrile
Struck in dumb bliss.
The mountains always show the veneer,
Always their plan of bleakness
To follow the autumn beauty,
And to cycle back like the conceit of forever.

Out on the tollroad
I see signage everywhere
Saying, “I knew you before I formed you in the womb.”
And then I knew of the concept
Before it was formed into words:
To know of one’s pain,
To be aware of pain.
I saw this drawn all over the rings
You imagined painted both our fingers.
Did you know me
Before you formed me into words?
Before I heard the words come from your mouth
I knew God, I knew gnosis, I knew the gospel
I knew bewitchment
From a grimoire, etched with hearts
And symbolology.

From there, we look for the perfect philosophy,
A biological philosophy deep latent
In the passion in the sweat on your upper arms
And leveraging all that came long before,
A generational memory
Recollected when I’m ******* on your mammaries
Realizing the good in that which
Makes my life hell
And my parents proud.

In passion, I notice the double standard,
Feeling drowned in water and this,
This is the sense of
Understanding the world
With the perfect syllabicality.
The kind where
The tokens we carry in our pockets
The ones we talk with,
Flash before love
Is ever a factor.

Too easily, do we speak about love.

How could a fetish for the perfect
Distract us enough to forget
The imperfect,
Something fear perverts far beyond utility
Something that’s far more a safer bet before
The perfect is good but not good enough
And you’ve lost your stomach to draining bottle after bowl
Seeking dopamine desperately.

You’ve been the cat in my lap
And the histamine storm
Assaulting the roof of my mouth
A reminder we can’t get too close
To the things we love,
And I’m not into you
Being so into me,
Being so bereft of the thing
Neither of us expected to happen.

The way you say you love me
Seems off balance,
Your love seems like a self-reassurance
Quietly nestled behind the greatest desire
For your worst insecurity, it is with that
I know what about yourself you love the most
It is outside the flow we promised one another
As though we’re held to the same ground
By a different gravity, said different words
That we nodded to.

It’s been said before,
I’m sorry, it was something, upon which
I thought we agreed,
There’d be no tears when we would leave.
So much wisdom is in the idiom,
“Follow your heart.”
Follow where it flows if even into the dark
If even along many streams
If even it strays, follow your sense of pain
And where it may teach you
Never to fear what you were
Meant to have
Even if it means the unfaithful
Path along the straight and narrow.

I couldn’t help but notice the concern on your face
As I loosed my hands to fall from grace
Into the flames
That lapped at your feet.
You warned me this was hell, those scabs and sores
From the fire,
But not your sore hands on the boiled rung
Nor your dry eyes or crowd you’re among
Nor the dense developments that seem so dire
I let go, anyway
And scattered my life like seeds
Straight into the vacuous winds
To grow elsewhere
And fall into everything
In the face of the fire regime.
The pain was real, you saw me writhing
Through the smoke;
What you didn’t hear was my laughter
And your name through my lips
As I called up from a field of molded rye
What the forests had to tell
And that we’ve been here on various trips.
Do you forget why you hang over the fire?
Dry your tongue from nonsense and spit?
Declare your freedom from pain and it?
It’s the safest you’ve ever been
To fear without guessing and calling it sin
From ashes a forest rises not asking for repentance
For life, we thank what death has lent us.

You say you saw the void?
Look into these eyes—
You do not see
The transparency of space
A nostalgia of regression when the
The mountains seemed so much smaller in your youth—
Not in these eyes.
You don’t see the void, but the future,
Not blackness, but the future,
Not the future, but the past,
Like all of us clairvoyants.
You close your eyes to see the world
Through clean mantras
Like all of us clairvoyants.
Looking back as their gaze looks forward
Like all of us clairvoyants.
Sounding the woolen past
And eerie comfort of rest
Like all of us clairvoyants.
Reading your own future
While reading others’
Like all of us clairvoyants.
There is no such thing as darkness anymore,
A truth you know well since
All truths are certainly true and false.
Wait for the light through the window
To scan the floor;
Every person is a lighthouse
Searching wildly in the dark
And in storms, ships will land
With or without permission
And you’ll laugh alongside them
With or without provisions.
Show me your tricks,
Clairvoyant
I have already lived in the future
And am not fooled easily.

oceans are so serene and beautiful.
oceans are so black and peril.
my ocean changes frequently, i don't have much control over the waves.
some days the waves are a sparkly blue, with warm sunshine warming it through and through.
it sways so calm and lazily.
other days not so placid.
just like that the waves turn black and freezing, and the water crashes, smothering any beauty or peace in its sight.
i on my small boat, have to ride the waves no matter what,
they are mine of course.
when the sea storm rumbles and brews i whisper to myself “don't drown don't drown”
don't drown.
i refuse to let my ship sink and go down.
why you ask?
well..
because i force myself to think of how stunning the ocean is on the good days,
and
how much my ocean can withstand on a stormy day.
even if it is easier to let the water push my body under and take me,
i will not drown.

There's a tear on my cheek
It's for you
The plans we made
They didn't go through
There's a tear on my cheek
And the pain won't settle
The happiness we shared
Went to hell though
There's a tear on my cheek
That is filled with sorrow
I gave you my love
but you only borrowed
There's a tear on my cheek
That I whipe away
Becaue im a new woman
Starting today

last night,
I realized something.
I can still remember the first time I came across,
self harm.
suicide.
it was a movie.
'cyber bully'
I was 13 years old.
I remember the song,
playing during the scene
'breath me' Sia.
I remember looking up,
self harm that very night.
getting all these terrible ideas.
I'll admit,
at first I used it for attention.
but, not in the way you may think.
I craved my fathers attention.
so, I cut.
deeper and deeper.
till it became an addiction.
a release.
I felt control for once.
but,
one night my sister walked in on me,
cutting.
that was the moment I decided.
what I'm doing is wrong.
so, I tired and tried.
to over come my addiction.
I wanted to show her that,
it's alright to have rough times.
but, it's all about overcoming them.
being stronger than you may believe you are.
I did it for her.
it took a year and I half.
one step forward two steps back.
but, I did it.
and now, I'm proud.
I'm proud of who I am.
I no longer feel ashamed.
I over came my battle.
and, I've finally came to a conclusion.
that I'd like to share my story.
for all those going threw,
rough times.
to show them, things are possible.
believe in yourself.