in an incidence of gross misfortune
i have not found someone else.
i have not met another who touches me like you did.
i can’t bear to bear witness to your new life
our love was supposed to be special.
you were my first true love.
of course, i could never say these things to you.
i could never tell you that i would spend every second with you
i would burn down all those who hurt you
or at least, i would
it’s always easier to be romantic in abstraction.
reality is a smog that blackens our world
an exhalation of all the smoke that’s corroded your lungs
and kills me, too.
it’s not just the lovely ones, you know.
i feel burning BUBBLING rage that blinds me, truly.
i feel unbearable sorrow from a fleeting thought. it can weigh me down for hours. suffocate me to silence.
i feel despair and despondence together in a melody of vast nothingness
that sucks the life and energy and worthiness out of everything i believe i can do. and i cannot.
jealousy at every interaction, joy that flitters and flutters sickly in conversation, laughter so pure and lithely that the world seems so beautiful i am invincible. and i am not.
i cannot listen to songs or rewatch old movies or revel in nostalgia. i cannot think of passed loved ones or broken friendships. it breaks me.
talking is like a bucket brigade for a star.
i’m not yet lost enough to think i am a star.)
sometimes the deja vu is too much.
it’s intensity is terrifying
i have lived this life a thousand times over.
would cherry red make any difference?
it’s freezing and it stuns me but it’s not too much to bear.
all it takes is one moment of action.
i always dreamed and hoped for reincarnation.
maybe we are fixed. this is all we get.
the universe is on a loop.
right before it all got destroyed,
someone far larger fixed us.
and we are stuck. but we are safe.
those go hand in hand,
fear debilitates us as we lean into it.
at my saddest they flanked me
at my most vulnerable they screamed
and warned me.
coyotes are not what they’re made out to be.
myths by us.
we are despicable and break what we touch.
coyotes are not what we say they are.
they will live and god i hope, we will die.
some art stands out with it’s glory, it’s electricity.
beautiful. stunning, you can’t take your eyes off of it. it’s incredibly memorable. you LOVE it.
but some others take you places. places uninhabitable by man.
a stand out
more stand outs:
as i cross the threshold of adulthood
the pain and dreariness that weighed on every lift and drop of my fragile, young limbs
the chest-constricting invisible unknown force that has been
building and building over time is polished and gleaming,
and no matter which what way i fight it, it simply grows stronger.
the ache in my heart has pushed past many layers which will never grow back
and is nearing the surface at record-shattering speed. body-shattering.
don’t breathe, it feels better. but you have to, to live.
is that what you want?
i don’t know.
the reset button was crushed and joined the air a long time ago.
there is no more of that.
it is only forward,
or a cherry red stop.
much brighter, much more vibrant.
incredibly appealing. gorgeous.
enchanting, almost. alluring, certainly.