There are holes in your construction,
Gaping caverns of destruction,
Tumbling mineral cones of tedious function,
Recoil, it won’t last long,

There are screams from our perception,
Bridging neural connection,
Flooded intellect against void ocean,
Extend, and shake my head. 


Good morning Flower without petals,
Without pressure,
Among nettles,

I stumble across you,
Into you,
And past you,
Like a breeze,

I’m not sorry,
I’ll breathe again,
Strip you of attraction,
Become weed.


In the abyss we met, we embraced and with help we grew,

There are many collections here, in the dim, hives thrive, collide and die,

We became one, we saw through others weakness, through our own fears, turned to an apparition, separate and removed,

It’s lighter now, collected virtue, comfort while storm rages, fear faded, we the other made it.

The Boy who forgot

There was once a boy who forgot who he was,
He forgot the day of the week,
He forgot to floss,

He forgot his Birthday,
He forgot how to swim,
He would forget his head if it wasn’t screwed in,

One dark night his parents made a spell,
With Love it came directly from hell,

When he woke he felt happy, and then sad,
Then both at the same time, which sent him mad,

He could see the present, and recall the past,
But, for the rest of his days,
He would see the future last.