Run, ran, rain

Feet pounding,
rain pouring,
tears dripping,
sweat falling.

Run home,
you ran.
In the rain.
Ruined your suit, tie, and brand new sneakers.
But it was beautiful;
you were free.

Until the new day comes.
Until the sun no longer rises.
Until you smile no more and the rain never stops,
when running becomes too much to do without painkillers.
Then kill me,
for I am no more.
Even a purple leaf will not spare me the misery of my defeat.

... and how ironic,
that my own fault defeated myself.

I wish I could run again.
I wish I were young again.

Now I must admit I'm a little confused

But to be young and free is liberating and painless.
I feel weightless in the wind, on a harsh cold night,
because I know there is sun waiting for me tomorrow.
Treat me to a beautiful first night,
as I have now graduated. It is a new start. Not really just the same.

You are the same as I,
ordinary,
not particularly unique.
But there is something odd about you,
about me,
that I can see and that you can see,
even if it is invisible to everyone else.
To the naked eye.
To someone indifferent to our sufferings.

We are at the edge of a great new discovery,
because we are standing there,
looking across the black unknown,
trying to find our bearings.
And instead we realize that it's a beautiful thing just to be heard.
To be moved in your heart,
to be touched where you feel it the most,
to be placed back in a sad part of your heart,
where you will miss everything that's ever happened.

Graduates of 2012,
this marks your rebirth into society,
because now you are someone.
Even if like me,
you are no one.

Stand tall,
and I will stand in your shadow.
Lead me,
and I will follow.
Because even though I am confident and bold right now, right here,
I am still soul in this body that I always was.
I will follow in your footsteps.
Be my example.

Are you confused?
Good.
Because that's how I feel.

Beacons before tags

Such intense
Intents.
A rhyme in my
Rime.
Is there a connection?

Does it play off the word before?

That conscious reminder of the word before-
Is this an opium of synthetic fantasy?
Stop exploiting my imagination.
A finnish
Finish.

How cute.

Proportions and subjectivity

Join my party,
I will lead you,
    guide you.
Borrow my ideas,
Use me,
These are portions of subjectivity,
Chunks of conceived thought in my heart.

It's all there,
When you piece it together it should be clear.
Like a cat with desire,
Stuck in a dreadful place,
Do you see the miraculous development?
It can be said, then,
That this forward movement
Is a return to a time before the establishment of mercy.

Dreaming isn't imaginary. Is it ?

I'm picking cherries,
and I pick you.

Pick up the phone,
please?
But-
Congratulations.
You've yet again given me the busy tone.

My fault for trying to tear down those walls,
concrete and for sure.
I should have known that your empire doesn't crumble,
simply standing tall under iron rule.
It must be beautiful on the other side.
Are you wiser?
Are you smarter?
Or is it just another shade of grey.

Over there,
not-yet-a-sea-away,
does everything speak differently?
Is french a calming medium?
Or does a raised eyebrow mean so much more?

I don't know the answers to these questions,
and I don't care.
Because I see in my own language,
that this which is what I see,
is something unique and beautiful.

Marry me,
Cherry,
and I will plant your tree in a field that is green forever.
The sun will never drop,
the sky will never fade,
the seas will speak of this hidden place in the deepest caves of my heart.
Because-
if it exists...
wouldn't you want to be there?
Or am I just exercising a power beyond my rights.
Again.

What lies before us, we cannot tell. But it must be beautiful.

Among things that are beautiful in life there are not such nights so beautiful.

All nature is as it were sunk in our own dreams,
And gently inquiring the mind too is drawn in on itself,
To pursue the train of its own thoughts,
Which borrow the colors in the night sky.

Sunlit and alluring,
And all that is me,
Sunk into the dark ocean of an oblivion,
The impression the dark arctic sea makes is remarkable.

Stretching as far as the eye can see,
The dark sea often paints black ink against the drifting ice.

The sky, gleaming cloudless and pale blue,
Glowing in the rich poetry of sunrise,
Or sunset color,
Or slumbering lingering through the lingering twilight.

Showering far and wide, melancholy desolation and death,
In these regions the heavens count more than elsewhere,
They give color and character,
They have no pallet to the eye.
Never will i forget when i first entered these regions.

What lies before us, we cannot tell. But it must be beautiful.

Radar, satellite, technology.

Can I see what the weather patterns are,
Inside your head?

Drop tears from a higher place above the clouds,
Onto crumbled kingdoms,
Where death reigns over a battle in the sky.

Help I'm surrounded by temptations, love,
This is the same dream.
Am I stable?
Or am I descending back to Earth-
Treat me right,
Keep me alive.

I am an aspect,
Collecting the tears and dreams of a generation.

The first technologies,
I am the birth of a new age.

Highlight of my life.
Draw me a piece from memory, your romantic old self,
The past is a beautiful thing.

I want you to take over me

As part of a particular release,
I wanna win the war against this struggle-
But instead I surrender.

I never meant to fight against you,
To resist you,
How could I resist you?

You've this virtuous quality,
It's a property of sin,
With my two eyeballs I gather all I need to.
Maybe twice as much as I wish to see.

There is no reconciliation.
Your words ring true.
Let me disappear because this is not Love.

The cat named Minoru

It turns out that a lot of my love comes from a dark place.
I am not the commonwealth,
I am a flower of evil,
bloomed at midnight.

Awaken, search my soul,
and for what?
You may perceive,
for nothing will be found which will lead you closer to heaven.

Your task, is to be anything. To be everything. To be someone.
Something, anything. A stutter is but a step. You are a child; grow.

Are you somebody?
No.
Because you are a growth of lust and immeasurable beauty.
You care about nothing because you have everything.
This is a creed,
not a motto.
But let it be clear that you are beautiful.

I havent tasted red like this in a long time

A beautiful red in the black of night,
your blood tastes beautiful on my lips.


I lick it, like an open wound should sting,
I feel it, like an open wound should hurt,
I understand, like a brain should exercise daily.


Alright,
cool,
whatever.
Same here.

Your best work to date

because it's a well written,
well thought out,
piece of work.
You are quite something,
you think you're so remarkable,
yet you're so astoundingly futile.
Your love breaks no boundaries because you play it safe.
You are a fool,
Who'd want to play your game?

Don't give me a list,
give me a poem,
give me a code,
give me a map.
I would like to see what lies inside the treasure chest,
and if there isn't one?
Then find one and hide it.
Because I'll find it.
And I expect to be pleasantly surprised.

But that's my problem,
isn't it?
That I expect so much from you?
Only because- every. fucking. time.
     Every fucking time that I try not to,
    You put it onto me,
   And you are gentler,
 More noble,
Than the rest of us.

Turn me around,

playing in the dark,
holding heat in our hands,
we are the concubines of our hearts.

And do you miss it?
Because you've realized you need it,
so no.

You're growing up
and you see no point in believing things that don't matter.
When will you stop hating yourself?
...as much as I hate you.

Because it's cute.
And I wish you knew me,
But to make you happy I'll wait.
Watch. Wait.
To steal your body away from darkness,
To take flight,
or maybe-
     Holding on to something is better,
     we can stay ground on the ground,
     Since you so much want to be a dragon.
     Let me take Flight.

About a girl who can't hold a relationship because she's so full of her EGO

... then we go.
And let you go.

Because your ego is too much for me to go with.
But I love you;
Do I?

Why am I unsure of something like love?
Because you don't want me when I want you to be with me,
but an Ego is e-gad, disgusting.

You aren't my friend,
you are a beautiful mistake.
They call that shit relationships.
I hate that I can't go,
because I'll be here as long as you pretend to love me.

At any occassion I'd be ready for

You're sidestepping further downwards unto my shallow, weighted, misfortunes,
This is how much I care. Ill watch you burn as you waste,
And suffer as you sleep,
Let malice overtake you as if you drowned on air.
I wish your existence were so meaningless and painful,
That you wished upon your funeral.

That you wished for a time being less forgotten,
And if only you had repent.
Maybe.
Grown tired of feelings that are almost miserable,
But not quite,
They tried telling me it was love.
Beautiful.

Lastly, already

I make up for days of guilt and for being busy with nothing,
I miss having time for you,
And unspoken audience of nobody in particular.
Because im a disappointment,
Really.
But lastly, already,
You've forgiven me, no?
Because i haven't you.
I forgive you,
For hating me.

While you are sleeping my mind goes creaking

How about you stop with these games?
Im too tired of being used
Like a toy,
Like an object-
Apart from the feelings,
Really, i think ive had enough.
You're just another girl.

Im sick of your shit.
Let me be the bearer of bad news.
Because you're unbearable.

This is a lonely dance we move to

press your body against mine and sway to the tune,

move with me,

move out with me.

On parade to the world,

does it matter who cares-

Does it matter who knows?

I don't think so.

Because we're lonely beings,

isolated on a lonely rock,

floating through space.

And if the red wine spills...

who'll notice?

So take life's risks and be able to say you took chances,

because I would love to be part of the mystery in your life.

...If anything,

This is all just a carbon based existence.

... or don't pretend. This is a beautiful sight. Period.

Do you accept my offer? Or decline fervently?
I agree with whatever you pick.
Because you are beautiful,
and I will forgive you for anything, since you are my closest attachment to what makes me real.


Rarely do I forget,
even when I have seen blackouts mid-day.
You lead the way,
not like an X on a map,
but like a page to a book written on a desk.
You are that secret that I have found,
and nobody told me how to get there.
I made my own trail to you. And you accepted it.


So is this acceptable?
Will you stand for it?
Is the post simply a bother, because you don't want anything from anyone?
I wish you would stop and wait for my letter.
The romance in snail mail is dead.
And with it I have died in you as well.


Period.