ONE MORE TIME

sunflower hours

These are the sunflower hours
I have invoked those flower powers
The blacklight's on
Reading through light showers
The lights are gleaming
The heart is screaming
About,
Many things
It sings
And then forgets the passion song
My future self has forgotten to sing along
The laws of memory, my head was wronged
The creative motivation block just feels wrong
Writing for months on a song I gave up on
Just like fashion trends, passion ends
Passion is temporary
I scared away the fairy
It was just weary
Of me, darkness it could see
Uncertainty, my future can be
I'm just crafting my decree
Making it known my happiness drowned at sea
Though the exact whereabouts are a mystery
The only person supposed to know is me
But I was unconscious when the powers came to be
Those flower powers
Echoing through the sunflower hours

Sunflower hours
Inconspicuous feelings outweighing rhetoric motivations
Multiple conflicting inspirations
Incarnations of characters that never came to be
An alternate reality in which you care about me
But no matter how much they say otherwise
I know my stories are really just self-taught lies
Underneath your soulless surface, there is no seething surprise
Continuing to write is a heart-wrenching form of self-demise
Pretending to see the movement of your eyes
Your talkative game was merely more of the same
I trudged too slow, another player came
I suppose I didn't take advantage of your theoretical rain
Hope can only truly walk on a creaky old cane
Focusing on the wrong storylines
Alternate realities instead of realistic fantasies
Truthfully, both genres apply to this over-exaggeration of a story

Prolonging the page count
Extending the repetition amount
Increasing the height of the mount
Of your words, I'll write my own account
Even though I can't seem to believe what I write
Yet to the part of me, that likes to dream, I give spite
Extending a long-gone lost cause is worth the useless fight
I'm the only one that knows I'm never right
Making too much of words that don't actually matter
I'm oblivious to what I'm doing, emotional substance continues to scatter
By now, the odds are a wilted ladder
Falling apart? Yes. But never quite a shatter
These are abstract ideas, even I can not manage
Too little too late, would be collateral damage
An indistinguishable silhouette lost in the flamage
Cinderella stuck in the illusion of a carriage

When fantasies shrink small, wishes fall
Keep writing nothingness until 12 am, consumed by the midnight mayhem
Seeing ghosts of hope, rather that than cope
A dimly lit room, thinking of life before the womb
The chair stops me from drifting off, life aloft
Double reverse psychology, fixated on the hatred I'm too blind to see
What should be a break, my brain prepares for the long bake
Over the course of 14 years, there's been thousands of tales, every single one fails
There's never a cohesive theme, worthy I can never deem
Distracted by the light, my conscience, I continue to fight
My answers are no more than half right, my brain is only active at night
Herded away from the fun, this time staring into the sun
Either the sun or the moon, I'm cast the role of the goon
It's not your brutalities, it's just my own allergies
Steering too far from the theme, a strong emotion's a blurry beam

Back to the vague somewhat distinguishable theme
Staring intensely into a blinding screen
Desperately trying to reenact the hazy dream
Projecting my hopes onto the sole l0ose seam
Making too much of the little things
Exaggerating the memories he sings
Not-so-subtle hand gestures, my confusion clings
Preparing myself for the day rejection stings
Wanting my wish to run without any real clockwork
Rather than putting in sacrifice, I'll continue to lurk
Looking half away, moderate glance, nothing too berserk
An overtly brief fixation on his otherwise insignificant smirk
Those flower powers, consuming me when he's around
I can only produce lackluster responses, devoid of any genuine sound
To a brief conversation basis, we're eternally bound
The flower powers probably don't revolve all around

Boring clouds painted in black and white
So there's no point in hoping for rainbows, right?
A pointless excuse disguised as the worthwhile fight
Telling myself that "bitter is sweet" with all of my might
I'm no hopeless romantic
My self-centered tendencies are just overtly frantic
Waiting for the wind to turn the pages, character arcs will just naturally blend
Until the meant-to-be love story comes to an unrealistic end
The fairytales and movies written by people like me, who love to play pretend
Every seemingly insignificant action, the writer needs to amend
Every word written in the script is an alternate reality that they would easily defend
My stories are of a messed-up family, and how they all die uncannily
My poetry is about an endless dark mind of a sea, and the psychological epiphanies that come to be
I try to write in the eyes of other souls, people that aren't me
But in every troubled mind, I find my own misplaced glee

Sunflower hours, even outside listening to the butterfly's rules
All but one star lays victim to man's tools
Playing hide and seek with the moon
How quickly hopes go to ruin
Lifeless statues of the boys I never quite knew
Eerie dreams haunting me, even long after the final screw
The fake star flew away, its true drab colors
Limitless exploration but only for dollars
At the end of the day, it's just a plane
Even the shades of gray know there's not much I can gain
Until further examination
A patch of sky, immune to the extermination
In between the grays, there's whispers of blue
Traces of stars, mumbling a clue
I'd like to stare back into the void and say "nothing new"
Ignoring the faraway stars that may end with scars
I'm an astronaut, and you're Mars
The black holes we thought we knew
The inaccurate depictions we grew accustomed to
I used up all my time, now there's nowhere to go except through
Stop waiting for the sky to tell you what to do
Screeching moon flute, midnight monsoon tune
Piercing sun cello, sunflower's boone

Tap into the dream
Let the sun gleam
Let the sunflower field free
Even if it's not destiny or meant to be
But the sunflowers are just dandelions
I look into his eyes and see no interest in between the deep cyans
Wishing on weeds
Misguided feelings he misleads
Completely ending addiction is a work of fiction
Writing about friction is an inaccurate depiction
When he made a move, I ignored him
If the sun ever was shining, I drained it dim
Fading lights are conspiracy theories
Making something of nothing, nonexistent queries
And I don't even know what drew me to the boy
I just find enjoyment in his simultaneous eyebrow raise as he thinks up a sarcastic ploy
Stuck since August
Make believe mistrust
Swallowing the good and pointing out the bad like dust
Invisible dust, ignoring the seven-month-old rust
Standing my own against the tornado of feelings, the spiraling gust
The lights aren't turning on anymore
There's no time to settle the score
In a few years, when I've hopefully given up, he''ll be lore
When I've eventually stopped dropping subtle hints in my posts, never doing more
Invisible subtle signs of sunflowers
He can't know about the flower powers
Wishing his heart the color of old movies to emerge in color
A poem put to the shelf, fading duller
Nothing new, same old alternate reality one-sided lover
Yet another.