I’ve perished
They told me so
A few times
I’m tongue tied
A thing in the undercurrent
A hole in one
When I woke I was thirsty
An insatiable existence
I know I’ll be punished
I know it’s a sin

∆ Neural Alchemist | Self-mythologist ∆
I’ve perished
They told me so
A few times
I’m tongue tied
A thing in the undercurrent
A hole in one
When I woke I was thirsty
An insatiable existence
I know I’ll be punished
I know it’s a sin
I want to be seen through and through
I want to have enough, never stop
There’s pauses in my membrane
I don’t recall the order of fate
How I wish it’d play out
How I pray to erase
Escaping is the back door
Unspoken
I beg my soul to be revoked and
The soul never wanted to carry me anyways
It names me a burden
Dead weight
Hips in heaps of heavy and a bit unsteady
Smokey listeners
Reaching for the shallow limbs of black
They sink and wail to discover life
And so I remain, printed and somewhat flaky
Together, forested in fictions
I lie to myself when I stretch out of the hopeful comforts
I’m picked as bark
The dog days are quite holy; haunting
The body was muddy and dug out of void
Being, holy as well
Peer through
Identify me, then leave me to be, leave me alone
As I grow feral to the moans of cicadasÂ
I will touch the golden skies in faith
The ones I indulge in and tell stories about
He poured some passion
Plucked me as fruit
I was healthy; a milky way
His sweet comfort
His wild girl
A bud turned bloom in his hands
I’ve watched you evaporate
Then turn solid
You saw me
Underbelly full, in a dress
On the edge and between the lines
Hovering by my bedside
With some lips that tucked me in
Nothing special to keep us up all night
We made sure when we’re together we’re lifted
The window is broken but you open it still
Creating mass and spaces to sit on
To worry about; challenge freedom in
You help me speak and understand nothing
There is no right or wrong with you
She was in search of a sign
A whisper, all knowing
As she laid, nuzzled in piles of his pillows and her sheets
Flooded with fire and fragile words
Every language, she thought
For once she could move with the world
That she could return to speaking sparrows and true crows feet would emerge from her soil
That her nurture was enough
Stormy nights brings fragility for the house of her soul
And so she sleeps a tranquil night
The mystic, the wonder
The ending of my cycles
Severed as selfish stings of venom
It’s you
It’s you
You gave, oh yes you did
Fickle flavor created my taste
And as my appetite fluctuates
I choose to starve
Washed over in drought
Sand dunes and Florida watered illusions
I see you
I saw you
I thank you