blooms

Clouds

Your face haunts my mind

every fucking day.

I've tried so hard but nothing

takes the pain away.

My head's made sounds and beats

that I've never heard before.

I saw peach and turquoise triangles

in formations of four or more.

The clouds know that

I feel like I'm a

good for nothing whore.

No matter how much music and mosaics

my head creates,

I keep wanting to make the same mistakes.

The more I bake,

the worse the hangover heart ache.

I still need to smoke our weed,

but I feel like if I do

I'm only made of greed.

I can't read you

and neither can you.

You're an enigma of a man,

that's true,

but I'll always be here with you.

I'll always be better and smarter than you too.

You dragged me through twigs

and I'm as good as new...

haha not yet but I will be.

I can't wait to finally succeed.

Where the fuck am I?

Why do I lie?

I don't lie.

Yes I do.

No, I don't.

I wiggled through

your tight virgin pussy of a mind.

Or at least I thought I did.

But now, that I really think about I slammed my thick, hard cock right into your mind.

We mindfucked until we went blind.

Now we're here at square one.

It's all said and done.

We went from friends

to lovers

to strangers

to hopefully friends once again,

when I'm over this shit.

My ego's in shreds.

I lay in this bed,

knowing the things we did

and remembering the warm snuggles that we had.

I haven't washed the sheets yet.

They don't smell like you.

I'm just too lazy to wash them.

I crave your scent.

No, I just crave a man's scent.

Your scent is forgettable.

It's sad but it's true.

Oh by the way,

I still have your shit

in a bag in my attic

to haunt me,

and you should thank me

for not burning it all too.

Everything feels blue

numb

blue

numb

blue

numb.

Get the fuck out of my head

I need to go to bed.

My dry, red eyes need to rest.

At this point,

I should only wish you the best.

I shouldn't have ever confessed

and obsessed.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry about the world fucking this, us.

I still love you

but I need to stop

loving you the way I used to.

In the end,

I realized I loved the idea of you,

and not the real you

(in a relationship sense anyway).

In the real end,

I'll be there with you

and you'll be with me too.

You're my best friend

and my worst heartbreak.

Ugh.

I gotta get my head out of the clouds,

become a sentient machine.

I gotta get my head out the clouds,

because they'll eat me alive.

Sometimes I want to let them.

I know I can't though.

My head's cloudy all the fucking time.

Lungs full of grime.

I don't care.

My anger's a bear.

Just let me dissolve into the clouds.

Fuck everything

but the clouds.

The clouds are there to break my fall.

I'm climbing up to the top

and I won't let jack shit drag me down.

The clouds take me higher.

Love is a problematic desire.

Green filled machine for hire,

that's me.

Take me to the clouds

and let me sleep.

What the fuck is this poem?

Clouds, that's what,

Clouds.