not as good but fine enough

you realize now
you don't do it
because your conscience is holding you back
and you thank it profusely
because you know when your mind is clear
you would pray for time to rewind.

i love it

you're not yourself sometimes

it was a revelation

there you were
alone
standing on the tiles of
black and white.
you felt like you weren't
in your own body
like you were made to be bigger

perfect opportunities present themselves to you
for things you wish for mostly
and when the moment is right
in its time frame between the red lines
you can't bring yourself to do it.

whatever.
two things you wish to pursue
and the current scene is something you gave up
if you make one wrong move
you'll be stuck
happy, maybe
but locked away from two opportunities
you're too hopeful to pass up.

it's just that wave of too hot
and you cough just gently enough
to dull the scratch for a few moments.
a blast of wind to cool the workers
that try to bring you down
with their pickaxes on your throat
not to hard, but just enough.

with essence still on you
thin fabric of your shirt
you weigh your options in the glow

each second the blanket of heat
that god bestowed upon your sholders
grows heavier
sweat and conscience alike
try to bring you down

but in your hand
brass scales
that tip and weigh with blindness
shine through with the truth

but luck be with you
the blindfold a permanent accessory
so even if truth can be revealed
justice
you'll never get to see it

nerves

you woke up with russian on your face
a fire burning in your stomach
throat, eyes and heart.

a doorbell
and you flee.
you press the lock and
forget the key

under the covers
"they'll never find you"
in there
you have everything you need.

hot hot heat

it's still too hot in this house
and you're still in the same state as yesterday.
a sure sign of summer,
it's warm waves and whispers of wind
make their way through the cracks in the windows
and the doors.
the creaks in the floor.
barely a fog that covers your skin
and still, you sit
in this heat and you wait.
and you wait.

but nothing ever comes
and it makes you smile.

your demise always makes you
smile.

titles always come last

second thoughts
dread
regret

you think that
your caution to let them out
or your inability to do so

makes them stuck
in your head
your throat
your chest

and creates a sickness.

quiet down

history repeats itself.
it is, tonight.
everything seems to be shifting.
different parts of your life, going back to normal
and yet, in the wrong places.

you really were so in love
and now, it creates hysterics
in laughter and maybe tears, eventually.
but for now, the sky is dry.

you're sure that's why
there isn't a bitter bone in your body
there isn't any hate left
for you to shove at anyone;
down throats or sewed onto eyes.

one emotion that you never believed in
and rarely do, still.
but you're sure you'd swear by it.

philosophy is against you
and it's hard to stick to your own morals
when one emotion clouds
everything you ever built up.

no title

it's funny,
ironic, maybe
and sad.

past entries
into the public.
stories that should be private.
things said that,
you're sure should have
could have,
gone unsaid.

the immodesty shows through, now.
but mostly,
you're reminded of how he affected you.
and now you think
maybe it never was attraction
but the way he made your words change
and thrive
as they do now.

you're still not sure, even now.
there's still something there
and you're ashamed.
but at the same time
relieved.

because, as they say
"quitters never win"

but, you think back to certain words
in particular.

ones that screamed
of a balanced life
and wordless minds.

but now, you'd consider everything to be
balanced.
or at least,
empty.

and yet the words still come
yea, they still come.
because even when thing are lost
ripped from you, even.
you can still suck the nutrients from them
vampire teeth or
a dirty syringe.

throw it away

the winds changing direction
it still burns your eyes
forces them shut

but now,
it laces fingers and
fills lungs

not alone,
but together.

broken bones

sandbars, mini islands, swamps.
maneuver your way around them.
small peartrees, skinny and just planted
but the perfect height for
a dancing partner.
decorated with diamond hearts
glittering in the sun.
too many to be challenging to find.
yet they make a spectacle of it,
as always.
trying for a macro
but the man with the
scarred, tattooed face
and too big lobes
stops you in your tracks.

you can't remember much else,
but you feel as if it may have been
life-changing

"reinvent love"

maybe it's meditation.
when you don't want to think
about certain things,
you imagine yourself
walking on silver air
feet off the ground
in bursts, each step.
choppy, not smooth.
the air cuts curves
around your body
and the background behind you
is dark and black.

you're in a nightmare,
another world.
but at the same time,
you're warm and you feel surrounded
by things you love.

you're closed off
and that's what you want, maybe.

when you do this,
you feel in control
you feel safe and powerful

and like you're flying.

what the fuck are you saying

things that happened mere months ago
seem to have happened
years ago.
or just never at all.

it seems like time just
skipped
and things in that certain period
never happened.

almost like
jamais vu.

first person??

dear world,
why are you so obsolete
when my dreamworld ticks on time and
in perfect swing with the water doves?
dear world,
your tilted axis caught us in a landslide.
in my dreams i transformed you human.
you walked with a limp, with your
eyes shining blue-green.
your skin that just-bitten color of rose

when they come for us,
we'll hold hands and plead ignorance.
and if ignorance opens old wounds?
insanity.
but mostly, we'll plead
love

go to sleep

Insomnia is an artist.
he uses wide brushes
and strokes
filled with vibrant colors and
thick paint.

he chips away under your eyes
with dirty fingernails
to perfect you.

his masterpiece.

not productive

biore
clean and clear
oakhurst:
brand names

strips
face wash
milk:
things


menthol:
good

lead eyelids

you look over
to watch the scene unfold
and the only thing
that disgusts you
and bothers you
is the fact that you once wished for it

and now you wouldn't even dare.

red hands

it's over.
"everything".
you laugh
because it's humorous
and also sad.
sadism or maybe just wisdom.

you unlearned trivial things
over the years.
certain emotions
waves of passion and
sea water
that floods deserts.

so all thats left
is laughter.

it's freedom,
in its own way.
even if you're still
pierced through the mouth
and hooked

you bet people wont believe you
and it doesn't matter
because you believe yourself
and that's all that really matters
and it's all you really need
to fuel your
day dreams
and
requital

deja vu

they say love is stronger than hate
but how can that be
when hate is so much easier
to feel than love


to forget:
you imagine steel plates
sharp, long but skinny
sharpening your skull
but in a worse way.
flying through your head
piercing the brain
until it's all but a solid
until there's no more room

until the pressure is so great
that it all turns to liquid.

maybe if they stare hard enough
they can see the buildings
crumbling in your eyes.

covers

you fill up
until that's all you know
sometimes, the things
you try to forget
are stronger than the fog.
but mostly
you're perfectly distracted.
and it's for all the wrong reasons
and maybe that's why you did it.

past experiences
keep coming into view
and nothing will ever be the same.
sometimes you forget that,
so keep reminding yourself.
remember the hate so you can
prevent future pain.

close your fucking eyes
for once.