Exam Season Again Y'all

you are now now now and its running through your fingers like sand sand sand and you can never stop the flow and it's just electricity between flirting neurons but oh you've never been here before and you never will be here reading this again and its so precious and limiting and infinite and its hard to breathe thinking of how sand slipped and fell and sank just sixty two words ago and in that time it took me to count you've already lived so much, each blink registering the frame of a spark you'll never feel again. it rushes like fire stuck falling. too much to hold not enough to grasp. and the typewriter eternally damns us to the human condition. stops.

it was supposed to be a friendly game of chess, but I suppose that made me forget we were still on the opposite sides of the board. you played a queen's gambit, and did win in the end, but failed to realize that entailed losing your queen too, until it was too late.

I’ve died so many deaths Just in this one life The pause between the beats Long enough, to make me question If you would curse me for pausing time Every time you said that you were mine And if I died then No other place so apt As when the stars would rather prefix If I died only then, You would’ve loved me for an entire life What tragedy is death, when I get the pick the forever I most yearn for? Nostalgia wouldn’t send its tariff for I would’ve been buried, and you would’ve been there at the funeral, And maybe for once, the grief would corrode your heart, And maybe for once I could ask you to stay, when after all there’s no one you could leave.

won’t you twirl me in the rain love, while the heavens shed the tears we won’t?

infinity is such a difficult concept to comprehend because humans aren't used to the idea of forever. everyday, something ends in our lives. we can't imagine anything not-ending that is real. our lives are defined by endings. anything related to us will aways end. we will die, another ending. infinity challenges the whole notion of the cycle of everything as we know it.

if I wanted to feel the choke, I'd just ask the plants I always fail to grow. Their corpses still fail to create what I knowingly try to drown, is that why we flatlined, the moment you dared to turn around?

varsity football you tried so hard for, it'll always be my oversized jersey you'll be fit for. you asked if i wanted to write songs together, what at the risk of pooling in our blood and then stopping to realize the handwriting could've been better? the mountain air smells like you, your fingerprints run down my back along with my bangs over the sink. will you be picking oranges or blueberries the next time I see you? maybe by then I'll finally feel the same crinkles around your eyes, yours will, however be much deeper, how could I ever catch up? maybe we'll have one last walk together, you can tell me of the serenity you find in studio Ghibli movies I'll never watch and you can brush my hair while I wait for another season to cut them off. I think maybe the Siamese twins survived in another lifetime but you, please don't be a stranger in this one, even when your footsteps haven't touched our roads in years.

golden threads like spools of glazed time, rippling over skin reflected upon or emboldened in time? slivers of voices trapped in the warm rays touching and painting your hair, wisps of unwound paths waiting to be caught. so many red strings, fluttering like our erratic beating, yet I'm left weaving tapestries from bare scraps of discarded lint. furious stitching, from the timed ripples dying, words of a melody barely coaxed by red and blemished fingers. the same golden threads, now remain unspooled, what a mess, caged like a broken Wallace. soft goodbyes left unsaid, braids woven for ultimate indifference. what knot did we miss for the tapestry to burn and not shine? the yellow so dull like jaundiced eyes but the red so stark like first drawn blood.

So much spilt blood on these lands, isn’t it hard to believe such sweet scarlet flowers grown on those same places? Every time you weave those ruby-red flowers into my hair, do those lovers who never got such bliss sigh? Separated by time but brought together again when our hands entwine, do you still believe that everything we have isn’t the exact same shade of scarlet?

we are but a gentle sin, while you hold the gun against my mouth, while we play dolls in our sandhouse, does the burn remind you of me? sickly red hazes overcoming your greatest tragedies, I'd let you blow my brains out, but I'd also burn your skin right off yes we talk till dawn cracks over the kitchen counter, but it would remind you of a puppeteer and me of skinner's theories.