Hollywood invented this.

What is love?
A status?
A feeling?
An action?

Hollywood induced mayhem.

In all the world, all that truly exists is that yellow tree.
Just one tree in all of existence.
Your existence is questionable,
Mine futile,
All I know that I love is that tree.

Blank

I have never been good at beginnings,

All I can see is that yellow tree

All I can feel is that numb

And I don't know how to end.

Some kind of magic

It's ethereal, other worldly, some kind of magic,
It's some kind of magic that in all the swirling insanity of street lights and people, here you are with me, in the midst of it all; with me.
After everything has been broken, here we are, in what was built from the ruins- something stronger. The creaking swing sets whisper the story, quick breaths, quicker heart beats, the break. That great wall, the thunderous toppling, collapse, detachment. The ruins of a broken city, birthing an empire who's predictions and possibilities seemed to be of myth. Here births the magic. Here, I find you.

Survival instincts

Fight the instincts,
That have sustained life,
Taken life,
Fight or Flight,
(Don't) Run.

Bright

There has always been the same amount of color,
It was just brighter before.

Forgive and Forget

"You have to forgive to forget, and forget to feel again."


Sometimes I think you also have to forget in order to forgive.
It's a misshapen circle, but I can work with it.