Poetry
This is the general category of fuckery that goes on and on and doesn’t seem interested in stopping.
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Nothing quite compares
Compares to the ice cold awakening from a long psychosis
Nothing quite resembles
The writing on the wall
You wonder if you leave it there
It’s proof
It’s proof
Proof of what?
You wonder looking back.
Well at least they’re all famous people
Or dead or what have you
A strange sort of lingering
The echoes of being in the echo
I could have been gone
Lost in the echo
If not for some happy accidents
We’ll call them happy
If not merely a sort of joke in themselves
I’ll delve if I so wish into dreams of dazzling
Gods and Goddesses
Stars and Planets
Non
What is the word
Nonjudgmental things
Save the wreckage it’s proof
Proof of something
Proof of
How many times do I have to tell myself to get the fuck back up before I hear it?
For once
For twice
All the feelings were so real when it’s real again you go searching
Down rabbit holes
Drenched in colours and ink
But what does it mean besides the dream
Of an unhappy nothing
One for the light
Two for the grave
In what sight given
Was anything made?
I can’t understand or even begin to explain myself
Of course I don’t have to
They’re all not actually people
They’re just pictures on a page
They’re only people if they see you back
It wonders
But what does it know?
No comments on Escape From Madness -
Twilight
As the sun has dipped beyond the horizon and the light in the sky becomes a memory
The colours faded to grey and wander off somewhere before the darkness licks them away into blackness
The birth of the night a she reaches across the skies, her stars beginning to poke out holes in the perfect blue sky
Faded to dark blue as the world turns
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My adorable obstruction
My charming borrower
Whittling silent stories
Of your life in your life
Beautiful knowledge and darkened prose
Darling caretaker
Sweet worker
And daring behind your eyes I see a boy and a man side by side
Do you stand beside him or beside you does he stand?
Unwritten
Beyond the wall built, years of brick and mortar
Still you shine with all the light
There’s nothing here to tempt the wrong words at the wrong time
Only I stay beside,
Wondering what comes next
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I love you
I hate you
No I love you
I disdain you
No I love you
I could like you if it didn’t hurt so damn much
I always love you
This life is it’s life
This is my crazy place,
Where I love you
Cocaine is great
This life is what it is
I love him anyways
This beautiful lost messenger
He fell off his path
He tells me he’s an actor
A lawyer
A messenger
Dabbling in the inbetween
But, oh, the moments I love you
Lost languidly longing through the day
I think about you
In the moments you’re at play
I hear you coming through the speakers and it says
Never ever never
And
The words have gone away
They tell me
You’ll get everything this way
Why can’t I
Be near or
And your words send spines up my spine
They are shown to me
Over and over again and again
Your words
I see your face
Fucking sunglasses
Never your eyes
Never your
Not for me to say
I love him
And I fucking love cocaine
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I met the messenger naturally
Actually
Never ever did the messages say
Saturn never showed
The lies gave it away
I love him at a distance
He hides as if he doesn’t
Doesn’t know doesn’t
Never let too closely seeing his person projected
Not likely the same just the sight
Sending messages
He stumbles
I watch him
He never listens
He’s a child
And I miss Saturn
It unfolds naturally
Actually
Nothing is ever quite right
I miss you
Nothing is really quite wrong
But it’s quietly quiet
No Saturn never showed
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What question?
When what answer eludes the most careful investigation into the
Question
When without the question no answer can come
Yet the answer remains, unyielding, despite the question hanging
Silent
Effortless
The answer stays, unreachable without the question
But what is the question?
There is no answer for the question of the question
Questions without answers
Answers without questions
Answers without questions
Elucidating Questions 