- Edgar Allan Poe

How does making someone else unhappy make you happy? You're mathing all wrong there little buddy.

I think you’re worth it. Not sure I am

Every day, it gets a little harder to stay attached to a world that was never meant for me.

infested hearts like
hives of honey
and hostility,
cages of vile
and violet
violence
inflicting a
dreamlike and
death wish kind of
destiny upon your will

immaculate skies
burn furiously, coldly
autumn to winter

His hands roam her body
Memorising every curve
Touching every detail
Forever burning
Her image in his mind

little library of feelings

she’s a dryad of woods;
a nymph of delicate
and ancient trees,
of soft whispers
and gentle grounding,
as she wanders barefoot
through her realm
caressing nature and
nurturing her soul

Writhing delicately in the echoes of surrender.

she houses a thousand
ghosts who haunt her
days and caress her
nights into peace

these mouthy accounts
are simply fodder and
deserve nothing less

the voices
in my head say
tread carefully

the witchery
that lingers
between fall
and winter

she spills from
the stars into
his midnights

find those people
who inspire you, who
can teach you mini lessons,
who can lift you up when you
fail the first and second and third
time, at achieving those goddamn goals