When she looks back,
A small teen believed
he was the happiest milestone
that's ever been marked
in her journey of life.  

She treated him like a dying man.
She cherished every second,
laughed at every word,
loved every part of him
entirely every moment she could.

Her brain would plant
beautiful flowers
and they became nourished by
a simple thought of him.

He did not show efforts
to create a new garden.
Malnutrition problems.
She was over blossoming
beautiful bouquets.
And gave them to the poison.

Time passes by,
she tried to be her again.

The thought of him always lingered
and it achieved all it needs.
Questioning herself, lack of confidence.
Day after day pass by,
She doesn’t know what she wants
lost in the ways of the world.

Her brain participates in ways to burry
the negative feelings to succeed
at only feeling good.
She’s stuck, the pain overbears her.

Fatigue, sadness, lack of motivation
all tag along, alone with nothing better to do. Weighing her down in the world while he is living like one normally does.

6 years later. She’s asked about her first love.

When she's thinking about him,
her brain shrivels up
like a flower would when it's cold.  
She try to protect herself, “Debatably a waste of time but also glad it happened.” She answers.

Growth is in pain, she acknowledges.
She thinks of her previous pain
only to find the root of sadness
to be able to change.

She lets go. She loves herself. She is beautiful. She feels like she is worth the world and deserving of a loving guy.

She notices that her maturity was key.
She lives life for her every day. Not for a boy, not for her school, grades, parents. SHE LIVES FOR HERSELF.

Her peace became important. She realized, feelings of hers are real. She is allowed to feel. Her emotions have power.

That night in the park,
When I drank too much tequila,
We first became friends,
And I started to see her
Around much more.
Unlike others she didn't bore
Me into numbness.
Instead I started to notice
The genuine laugh
And guiltily pleased face
At my carefree jokes
And occasional poke.
She chose to fling around
Yet still enjoy the sound
Of my company
And conversation.
But a question mark formed
And hung like a far-off storm.
We both knew it, our friends guessed it.
But we never did address it.
Limbo is an okay place to be;
Lots to do, more to see.
But the idea of heaven
Overbears like a cloudy dream.
Not seven months later
At Halloween,
We watched a Harry Potter film,
One we'd already seen.
Under the blankets
Our knuckles brushed.
In a sinful rush, the lust
Drew each finger together;
Lacing over eachother;
Thumbs gliding the skin.

Going out on a limb
Was the closest we'd ever been.
But after that, nothing happened,
And soon she moved away.
I'm sure I'm forgotten
In a nonchalant way.
So I still wonder why
We didn't take off and fly,
Or at least never tried.
So here's the lie,
I didn't ever want her.
It's better that it was left like this.
A train you might want
Is much harder to catch
Than to miss.

Weary as the night you first walked in,
the glances we shared,
but our intentions were impaired.

Glasses stood half empty,
reeking of alcoholic drinks,
devious plots behind hazel eyes,
the drunken monster -- released.

The slow dance you watched,
my body curling with the beat.
The lights and the shadows,
crept up about my feet.

Now cut to scene two,
where it's just me and you.

the lonely night has come to hold me,
the stars pretending to be clear,
the death of said loneliness,
it didn't pass here.

the fixtures on the ceiling,
seemed so pleasant at the time,
but while you kept me on my back,
the knife killed me over time.

I couldn't look into your eyes again,
without seeing the devil's soul.
I couldn't give you one chance to walk with me,
I wouldn't, I know.

The subconscious voice overbears,
always warning me of you,
I turned to you and loved you,
and what did you do?

This eternal longing for the soft embrace of Rest grows ever-stronger while my will shrinks by every passing infinite moment
I am suspended in place, held aloft by pure stubbornness and not-entirely-honest hope for a better life come next Spring
And to think of what I might miss if I let myself sleep...
Well, that pain nearly overbears the dull ache of existing at all

So here I will remain forever, one foot caught in a trap I set for myself out of fear on my darkest hour and the other foot just barely toeing the border of a daunting place I hope to never set my eyes upon

i have palm trees growing from my scalp,
its roots my neurons,
but they’ve withered over the winter – the coconuts fell and
i use them as bowls for soup now.
i use the disintegrated crunchy remains of a palm leaf,
a tattered fan, to masquerade the satellites where my eyes were.
the sand that cools as day turns to evening
has always been under my sore feet, from birth to childhood to
now, ashes.
if this was handwritten you wouldn’t be able to make it out,
my scribbles dipping up and down like the wake that follows a ship, a requiem for  
aquatic self, aquatic selfhood, aquatic selfhood decomposed into molecules of salt
and molecules of water, NaCl, H2O, forever, etc, being stirred
and spiraled into who i could be, and who i never will be, until at last
the seaweed overbears me and i choke.

Within our souls we discovered,
Each other,
In the fever of such an occasion,
As our fervor blazes on,
As our tongues pummel to excavate,

Unearthing the burrow of our feelings,
To touch and hold,
As the invisible boundaries between us,
Are no more?

Enthralling me with sudden desperation,
Squeezing each other just enough to,
Lethargic our eupnea,
As we are subdued by incalescence,
Of ecstasy,

As expectations of red hot feeling arise,
At this juncture our souls slip away,
Into an eclipse asphyxiated into,
Another dimension,

Distending every fiber of our beings,
Into a captivating moment of pleasure,
With a passion so strong it is scorching,
Once more the flame grows,

Just then Passion overbears us,
As we tremble in a moment lips clinging
Arms steadfastly hugs persist,  
As our souls depart in euphoric elation,

Prolonged for that last moment of,
Ardor passing what seems to be our,
Lifeless bodies,
As it synchronously constraints us,

The fiery searing subsides,
We feel this need ever stronger,
To pursue our SWELTERING LOVE,

Sheep daunted
Gracefully the wind hums,
Darkened clouds-
The warmth overbears us.
Trees, oh mighty-
They tremble in the haze,
A blue and green fury.

Stilling like-
Some dying machine, unmade.

Branches whip
The gentle lake turns, churns

Bell shaped lanterns flicker
Before the man shaped name

Feelings of wet cold grass
Like woven fleshy cod
I feel-
I feel-
Has the man left the room?
I think it might be June

All important glimpse of mood
paperclip straightened through a cardboard filter
veiled understanding, their minds peer through
comprehend the heady attitude
every step forward, a chain rattles with weight
dragging feet, spitting curses a fight
bring it out before it's too late
ringing ears, faint legged, stumble into natural light
maggot-fleshed being, crawling on the floor
seems so quick with tongue as it cuts with gaze and word
to lock outside the interlopers, one side of the door
everything it has not dealt with it has not seen or heard
this is what you leave behind, the future is painfully bright
is this what you had in mind, passed down a blight

I sleep in an orchard on rotten eggshells,
far from the tree that I fell
a black sheep who will not let this empty nest sit well
my station overbears on my back, I bleat in agony
never letting up, I stand fast, I will not abandon you
I am a conduit for negative energy
I don't need light to see, the darkness does just as well for me too
all the shocking treachery, debauchery and base savagery
it reads as plain as a charge to me,
I let it wash over and it carries me through
when I lower these horns, count your sheep while you can
for you will see an animal bursts from this man,
when a goat leaves the herd to run over you
there will be a whole horizon of storm clouds following calmly, but I will strike like a bolt out of the blue

I am a medium who channels negative energy
and I return it to the world in an inane state,
from the frostbitten touch of a sunless place
I am a conduit for antisocial behavior, murderous rage, crusades, tirades and decades of lectures that second rate tyrant's blush to berate,
I host an oni, who meditates on carnage daily, and finds strife in others brings humor and grace, a verbal savage who kills ids with words and egos with actions, who never shows my face
I have the capacity for evil, but I make a conscious choice every time I use my voice
I am a middleman for idle-hands, I have always sought to create or isolate
if I have ever fallen off, I have never wanted to destroy,
my only love is to write now; it is one of the few things in life that gives me joy.