Act One: pacts left unbroken

cycles

precipitation, evaporation, condensation

(the cycle repeats

flowing like rain in spring)

sublimation, transpiration, percolation

(my tears both vapor

and groundwater)

birth, live, perish

these have happened before

and will happen again

(but somehow this loop

is not forever

so i am not stuck like this)
~
fleshy fruit

TW for suicide

what a peculiar plant this tree is

grows nothing but ropes

long

binding

never-ending

ropes

some use them

and breathe their last breath

under the shade

others

cut the rope

picking apart the fleshy fruit

a bag of skin bone and blood

hoping to end the vicious cycle

~

ing-tion-ed-ly

gratifying

mortifying

tantalizing

(justifying what you claim is right

and what is wrong)

mortal life never ceases to amaze me

motion

explosion

extortion

(transition to that fated letter

the one where you made up your life)

the way you chased me, cat and mouse

whined

chimed

inclined

(find that one moment where

it was just you and i)

slowly,

i float up the stream

slyly,

i burn your letters

decivingly,

life is not as easy as it seems

(like a jester

but nobody here

is royalty)

~
like my hopes, smashed to fine dust

somehow i ended up in a room,

staring at my reflection

my reflection looked weird

"hello?" i screamed

knowing nobody was with me

my reflection waved,

although it felt more somber

than it felt llike a reunion

reliving my fears again

i am scared by it

"Hello." it said

i then knew it wasn't me,

and i shattered the mirror

like i shattered my hopes

so many years ago

~

schooled

if

1 = ½+¼+⅛+⅛

but fractions go on forever

water = hydrogen ×2 + oxygen

and chemicals make me sick

far too bored of history

yet spanish can't quite intrigue me

back to english it is then

back to writing poetry

~

mirrorerror of the mind

my mind is odd

forever seeming like

my words define my person

looking in the mirror i do not see myself

i see through it

behind the reflection

lies my broken soul

just more mirror errors

of which i must put up with

~

until it becomes hushed again

TW SUICIDE

long live

tired days

where i

double doubts

(and i ask myself,

who was in my mirror?)

and so i look

forward to the days

where i can simply

take away my problems

(while there were three of us,

you always acted like there were two)

which leads me

back to three

luckier than two

worse than four

reduce to one

(all while i sit here,

mourning the loss of nothing & no one)

which

leaves

me

to

take

one

more

thing

(so life becomes silent)

~

mint style poem with the parentheses

so tired of this body

tired of accepting that

rotting and dying will be

inevitable

(i do not miss these musings

but they kept me awake)

and so walking into the river

a disfigured mangled body

(and death is permanent

like scribbles with ink)

writing words that mean nothing

blood is just ink

the river a canvas

(my body is a brush,

applying ink to a canvas

because mortality is finite)

so someone had to say it

because coming terms with life

is harder than coming to terms with death

(and i will die over and over)

~

another parentheses poem

revenge is a dish best served cold

but if that is the truth

how would one serve revenge warm

(and why do i feel strongly about it?

who am i to serve revenge at all?)

time is running out

so space is walking in

(and fate is ascending,

while chaos is nowhere to be found)

if you can't say something kind don't say anything at all

(so then how do i escape reality

and all it's greater evils?)

love is first sight

(so hate is second?

why love is idolized

is something i never understood.)

i was meant for you

(but not forever)

fate is on our side

(and luck is our foe)

but somehow i feel

that we were meant to be apart

(after all why

would someone i am supposedly

linked to hurt me so bad)

~

thoughts

i missed your words dearly after you disappeared

it made me think about who you were

and who i was for you

a clump of clay you could mold

a living breathing reflection of you

and i hate it.

i hate always being you.

so when i made a joke,

and was no longer you

you left me,

like i would have left you

~

really, truly

who are you reflection

why do you pretend to be me

i see a face that is not mine

instead i see a mold of a past self

i look at the mirror and watch as

blood

drips

down

down

down

from the shards it makes

my reflection laughs at me

so i know

that it is really me

~

language is a concept we must learn to cope with

i am not real

yet i am

wima ago waimawenewiwan

just another mirage to look at

con mi llora

y tú gritas

and so i walk alone

pero no,

いいえ,

yo caminan

하고 sina walk

i walk

하고 나 cry

my words

joneke

con gritas

えと

i sit there

a mannequin

ni un 사람