#cosmicpoetics

Do I suffer in the silence?

Or make peace with the pain?

Do I softly burn forever?

Or ignite my heart to gain?

Is it easier to turn to dust,

Or make use of corrosion?

Lying here forever,

Watching my own life in slow-motion.

Palm to palm, feel my fingers bleed.

Hand to heart, hear my muffled pleas.

I’m winded and working,

Cogs spinning and turning,

Collecting hearts

Yet falling apart

Do I close my eyes

Or remain awake for eternity?

Do I toss and turn in nightmares,

Or face the sudden uncertainty?

Can I withhold this burden,

Or shall I fall to my knees, at a loss?

Or take a step to the line, and attempt to cross?

Such uncertainties make our boy, Hamlet, look

Well-mannered and decisive

His inquisitions pale in comparison

But what’s wrong with a little indecision?

After all, repression is just as is

A depression gone unnoticed,

Slowly killing all it touches and it spreads

Oh it spreads, quickly it does.

But how we yearn to the things that kill us,

We leap to them, and pray for the best

But when do we give up?

Wash the blood from my veins,

Rid these lies of my fingers

Shift my mind to places of brighter intuition

Feel my hips as they bleed words unspoken

Lips softer than any feeling I could have for the likes of you

Cut-throat and cut-paced,

Dead to the eyes of your admirers taste

Depressed in divots and corners we hide:

Divert your eyes from any feeling you may find

Because my blood has been emptied from my veins,

The emotions dead from my tone,

The feelings carved from my heart

In fear of those who came before you

After all this time hiding, I hoped you’d ignore them

The marks of palms pressed to my skull

A pressure unyielding and unbending to my mind’s eye

The feeling of a cloud of darkness shrouding my consciousness,

To those who live simply,

Or just simply live

I raise you this:

What is it to just be enough?

To just exist and not right the wrongs of the world.

Starting with your own head,

Working through your own fingers,

Changing the world one corner of the sky at a time.

And when the sky looks too big?

When the clouds are too vast and dark to fix?

We start with puddles and leaves.

We begin with gentle breezes and pale moonlight that needs little fixing.

Because how could one ever be so wicked as to just exist

So lay here with me,

Make your stay

For you my body shall be free estate

Aching for the soft fingertips of love

So lay here with me,

And don’t dare tell me of platonic tales

Tell me of kindness and endearment

But if you love me enough, don’t tell me

How you don’t love me

So lay here with me,

Your hands have free range of my hair

And your heart has free range of mine,

So if my love is one-sided,

Reside to biting your tongue of misfortune

So lay here with me,

Friendship paints easier than heartbreak

And laying under the light with a friend

Can sometimes be easier than feeling and knowing

That my love is unrequited for eternity.

So lay with me here,

Soft words and shared body heat

That means little more than a friendly love,

But feels so much better than lust

And hatred of my own foolishness

Knowing your heart lies elsewhere

Dusk till dawn,

They see us change.

In the morrow’s newly found fawn,

We watch the leaves rearrange.

In the eve’s newly trusted dusk,

We dance to the light and sounds

That the stars make for exclusive lovers.

Leaves bristle like peacocks

And the winter wind traverses the well-worn paths.

What once shimmered in light

Lies still in the frost.

It remains the same cold,

Lying in wait for the numbness to leave

Seasons and years pass unquestionably,

One does not interrogate the natures ways

But one can disagree with it.

We can quiver like the branches,

And pace among the trees

The sheer fact that I bought tea bags

In your flavours

Just to remind me of you

And while I mourn you as a lover,

You stand by my side; a lover still.

While I miss your touch as your fingers graze my face.

That I barely notice your fingers turning to claws.

This lover that shares my stead shall heed no words I relinquish.

This lover by my side embraces me, to cling like darkness,

A shadow used to push me from my hell to the watered depths

Sometimes love is not what it seems,

Not that every one you’ll ever meet is a wolf in sheep’s wool,

But very many find it within themselves, with a little help

From said sheep.

Although this discovery,

Self-acclaimed, if you please,

Tends to be one that leads to journey

Not necessarily alone,

But often you venture by yourself.

To find the person you thought you were,

And to leave the person you became behind.

Some love is a mutual friendship,

And never amasses to more than that.

But those are alright too,

Twirling in the twists and turns of the house,

Oh what a large house it is.

Tumbling and bounding under the darkness and secrets

Holding the doors open for another, hands in hands

Tagging along like kids, growing in laughter and light.

This house may be rustic, old, creaky

But it houses the unfortunate

And it holds us close

It offers familiarity and comfort

In the places others are too afraid to go,

Because they echo despair.

But some rooms whistle with emptiness

And beckon the children of the night to play

And while you shift through shadows and dance in light

I run against the winds of the abandoned rooms

And the light I cling to seems to fade briefly.

The only thing the house offers me now is muffled silence

I miss it.

The gentle breeze lifting hair in a whirlwind,

The warmth of sun kissed skin,

Gentle boughs of cherry blossom trees grazing skin

I miss it alright.

But this house holds us close, remember?

It draws us from ourselves and offers what was once golden

And warms the roots we make here.

This house draws us from the thorns we create

And offers flowers for thoughts,

Sunshine for laughter,

Happiness in place for our demises.

This house carries us from our own haunted homes