Under the red spot


I ask myself how myself 

is feeling tonight?

Though I melt into the 

shapes of sinking holes

that  spill through and I disconnect

the thoughts that 

you thought held you 



You let yourself fall open, split don

the middle to evenly 

dispense what you 

believed to be you

I step back and watch

you unravel 

I lean against the 

wall and stare 

onto you


the gaze locks in 

on you

onto me.


Who am I even looking


This created recreation

of something I think I 

once had?


But when do we really 

realize we have, nothing?


The experimental 

familiarity of 

having nothing


Uprooted and unsure

where I even belong.


I switch over to first person.


I realize I have nothing.


Nothing can be done that isn't done


We who think 

otherwise, just 

don't realize

it's already been done


We just haven't figured

it out yet


And with that

indulgent profession of a new thing

you think you 



It knows- 

its already been done.


The action of doing makes

my brain feel wounded


but how can you gain a wound from a 

battle you are not even in?


The explosion that 

ignites when we

will meet

is one




let us recognize 

the good in one another

and find passion on 

undeniable form


that bursting starting



If I exist

you exist

if I exist

you exist 

if I exist 

you exist



There is a while 

no, there are 

uncountable amounts

of lives happening 

all at once


I write to you


You could have walked 

by me and not even 

been present enough

to feel me


lets promise ourselves

never to ignore 

one another again


don't fight me.