dream.

i still dream about you

because i don’t know

how to stop.

t.w.

little thoughts.

she was annoying —

and it wasn’t necessarily because she actually was.

but because i was the kind of man who got annoyed.

—

but in the moment, in my mind,

there was no difference.

—

annoying or annoyed, it was.

i made no distinctions.

one of us always picked up the slack.

t.w.

better days.

i bet you think

that i’ve heard it all

but all i can think is

‘i’m so glad you called.’

even though it’s to tell me

you’ve had enough

i’m no more broken—

no longer in love.

t.w.

pray for rain.

the same sun

falls on your face and mine.

you drink of its warmth—

bask in its light.

i curse its harshness—

a desert wanderer.

the light assault my eyes.

we sit under the same sun

while i can only manage

to pray for rain.

t.w.

my joy unlasting.

my vanity;

my crippling muse.

my joy unlasting.

my ephemeral pleasure.

—

i return to your

promise of love

to receive

only death.

—

your fountain draws me near.

i thirst for drink

to find only salt and mud,

on which no man is sustained.

—

promise of everything—

delivering nothing.

how weak are your riches,

how worthless your glory.

—

your dust has never

made a man clean.

t.w.

disaster.

this has been simply

and purely a disaster.

—

nothing more,

certainly nothing less.

t.w.