Poet's Elixir

“Happy at the thought possibly so” of being in the back of your mind, an image for you to undress and caress at your leisure, your eternal plaything. I muddle through the sturm und drang of life’s more hostile stretches with the kind of hopeless hope only such happiness can bring.

I am the King of Anxiety Not for others’ standards, but my own Still, chaos reigns over this territory _

This body is like most computers Beholden to a set of strict and sensible rules Base 10 divisible by 2 and select even numbers

Life’s guidelines in 90 degrees Theoretically everything will be right But I sometimes struggle with geometry

So I declared myself the ruler of me A futile attempt to control the politics and armies To provide this nation stability; a new monarchy _

.

It was only once that I needed to kiss you

To know we could never make it through.

.

It was cool and calming

Looking into those sad eyes

For the very last time.

Hushed words dripping honey

Momentarily curing us

Of the maddening insanity.

With firm hands under your chin

At moments it was impossible

To ignore those eyes so grim.

Memories of butterfly kisses

From your eyelids to your nose

I knew I still loved everything

From your head to your toes.

I had once believed I'd burn for you

But I guess I had spoken too soon.

.

I saw our distorted silhouette

In the flickering golden flames

And the ghastly silver moonlight

Filtering in through the drapes.

Faint shadows ushering the dawn

I wished I had said something

Before all our time was gone.

With deadly silences eating me up

I could never say anything of worth

But an apology never did any good.

So, I left way before you could.

.

And it was the last time that I kissed you

I knew for certain this was all we could do.

.

but thought without action is fantasy

loving you is all-consuming

my heart still flutters when

i see your name on my phone

or your face.

loving you is as easy as breathing

the most natural thing to me.

loving you fills me up

from my toes to my brain

with wonder.

On some days, waking up feels

Like a task that can defeat mammoths,

As if your soul is dead inside

And now it's being infested by

Ants and drosophila that are

Puncturing your previously hollowed self.

Your body reeks of failures,

From having flunked exams,

To letting people turn you into

A doormat over and over again

So you wonder if the universe is telling you

That success is at the end of a bottomless pit.

Trying to get yourself to sleep

Is like trying to achieve your goals

But for that, you'll need to

Run up the staircase of hierarchy,

Meeting memories, long lost people,

And pain throughout the steps.

And when at times you manage to

Sleep without guilt pushing into you

Like a rusty but still sharp knife

That drills into your neck slowly,

Nightmares of your existence

Throw you back awake.

Self-care is now no longer

Aloe Vera skin masks and

Bubble baths with lavender bombs,

But rather staying back home

Till people eventually forget you

And you don't have to face them anymore.

Your therapist asks you to

Feel your feelings and let it all out

But how do you explain that

The more you feel, the more you sink in

The vastness of your overthinking mind

after eight months

of living there

i put things in their place

made a home for my shoes

beside the fridge

and felt the cool air return

to my open door

.

I ask every day

life doesn't listen

to a word I say

joy has forgotten

the person I am

laughter keeps laughing

not giving a damn

there's only one thing

faithfully here

caring and loving

and always so near

would never think

to let me just go

I think by now

you already know

thanks, depression, can always count on you to mess up anything I try to do

our lips have known each other for a while now

i know every crease

on your skin

it's seconds of heaven on earth

i used to flow,

my body loose

a faint smile,

shine in my eyes.

i’m stuck,

everything’s rigid

i laugh a lot,

i want to die.

He always had a lot of ideas about how people should live.— Bill & Linda,         typical of the species;

I’ll skip the decorum, you are not interested in that.

[Stull, Kansas] spring equinox: the choral scars        of raw mewl heretics,

philtre-battened minds scrying devil’s verse from        the mouth of Orcus,

you hear in your head

while you lay there alone

with my name on your lips

when our time here together

has come to a close

as you grope for my skin

on your fingertips

it was something we lost

in finding ourselves

uniquely so different

from each other

but now we must go

in our separate ways

in search of a better

companion and lover

Ig : @siriandanurpoetry

nearing forty

life becomes

a continual countdown

in more ways

than one

.