it was happening again. his footsteps became softer and quieter until they made no sound. he looked back to see his shoes set in place and a pile of his clothes crumpled lifelessly on the grassy knoll. “i knew this would happen.” his pace quickened and he thrashed through the reeds at the edge of the lake. “they’ve left, and it will be months until they return. months like this..” he moaned. his movements were wild; the waters under his feet deigned not even a ripple as he passed over them. where the winds gathered near its surface, they rushed back and towards the running boy as if making him their own, showing that his substance, or lack thereof, could now present no obstacle to their strength. every inch of his body was filled with the chill, piercing limbs of the raging winds that charged through him. 

life’s a bitch. don’t be surprised should i humour it.

i glanced at her while crossing the road
when i heard her stereo, i couldn’t stop.

i have realized, after such a long time,
that i do miss you. riding to and from work with the windows down,
chain smoking, laughing, arguing,
feeding carrots and apples to the horses,
always staying at your place until your dad made me leave.
under a full moon, swimming naked in the lake.
touching every doorknob, simply to explore.

however, the truth is that
amy, you were nothing more than a companion,
what i really miss are
the endless pills, the potent green,
the tank full of gas
and a wide, heavy wallet.
no rules, and all consequences 
pushed out of mind.
this, an unturned card in the deck of my soul,
is the ugly reality, and one that i must frankly.. honestly digest.

it isn’t possible to have those feelings back,
either you or the rest. 

puddle in my mind
where daydreams appear
close enough to look,
nothing more.
should my fingers meet
the dimly colored surface
my hopes will ripple
and fade into the edges again. 

just one small mistake can kindle the anxious burning of my constant failures.

do you ever loathe someone whom you should love?

this is the taste of success.
dull, difficult and tedious, but the fact that i am
finally
achieving
brings a bliss worth it all.
this is progress, invisible, dynamic. 

“i am like a pendulum that does not swing.”

i find, in the creases of monotony, small moments of darkness and oblivion where i can curl up with my own thoughts and write them on my skin.