Nothing
A means to an end
A emotional surrogate
A substitute when you need reassurance
A resource when you want information
Ghost at all other times
Is my heart too big?
Or am I just a fucking idiot?
poetry
Verdant trough
Energy pours out
Bleeding into the sky
Like a maelstrom taking pieces of me
Thin streams stretch into the
Aetheric
Drunk down
Faster and faster as
Spring
Takes its toll
Slow ponderous turning
Shiver in paroxism of pain
Slow turning
Ponderous speech
Siphoned of energy
Giving nothing back
Taking taking taking
No joy in your violence
Storm breaks like dam
Keeping you from your path
Poor storm
Poor spirit
Who did this to you?
How dare they?
Vengeance you take in blood and destruction
Deserved
Deserved
Deserved
Ill served by those who should venerate
Green mold days
Place feels like a cancer
Festering in the nested green
Feeding off of it
Felt malignant and spiteful
A tea kettle hissing
About to boil over
A green rot
Pretty on the surface
Eroding the souls of all who live
Within its borders
It’s no wonder the weather is so wild
It’s trying to stamp out the slow fire
Bit of a nerd
drop ice cubes in a warm drink and think, “Let the heat Transfer begin.”
Look at the rustle of thousands of leaves and while entranced by the beauty, also wonder about a fluid dynamics equation that could be used to potentially map how those leaves move
Someone says First world problems and hears me say, Poverty is a first world problem (thinking in my head, it’s a matter of scale). Waiting, hopefully, for an answer haven’t heard before. But hear a common answer about redistribution of wealth, ask the followup of how to minimize graft in the bureaucratic algae bloom such systems create, hope for a new answer.
want real answers to these questions, because the discussion is interesting.
like talking to people who don’t have talking points jammed into their brains but political entertainment.
Real talk. Nerd talk. What are you passionate about? What drives you? Talk to me about your favorite anime and why it harkens back to some obscure historical fiction.
Talk about what you love, what you like, what you want, what you hope, what makes you think, what makes you happy, what makes you sad, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry.
Sprinkle in a bit of your past if you want to.
But the nebulae of all of it is who you are. Let me see it. Sit in the same room and text it if that’s how we are most comfortable. Or across the room, just want to look up and be able to smile and see you. Or see the tear and comfort you.
Small talk kills me.
Sleep addled wants
Time slips away
Caught between who we are
And who we want to be
Everything waits
Shivering
Hoping
For the electric surge
Of connection
Songs I make up
Sleepy time in my bed, bed
Gonna sleep like I’m dead, dead
Sleepy time!
Waiting for the plane
Pages full of distraction
Can’t find the answer
Buried beneath fatigue
Between canceled flights
And sleeping head drooped
Jerking awake
Lessons in discomfort
Traded for cash
Choices made
Explaining candy floss to the sky
There was a time when all was clear
When decisions made
Stayed as made
When the whirlwind reaped to my will
Now all is lost
And I can’t seem to find my way
Home
Thin red streams
Inching towards exhaustion
Glass beads pour over porcelain
Calling from a distant room
Spine shivers
Sleep dips into blood
Stealing sight
Motive bled
Bitter almonds
Give me your hand
