i.

sweet potato pie

topped with marshmallows: a dish,

a euphemism

ii.

yellow fold-up chairs

aren't for seventeen-year-old

girls, not anymore

supposedly to

grow up is to nod while the

adults are talking

cross my ankles, chew,

swallow, scribble haikus that

they will never read

iii.

an appetizer

of political jargon

no 'soup or salad'

iv.

with apple cider

i wash down all the words i

know i shouldn't say

just to cram them in

boxes of five-seven-five

for a smile or two

from poets like me

dreamers, forever craving

something real; what's real?

It’s the perfect time to rise.

Peanut butter seats reclinin’

On my mind.

Fame and fortune desired.

All I need is you so baby I’m fine.

Haven’t stopped dreaming bout your eyes.

Gave ourselves the chance to do this right.

Take our time and last all night,

Babe I’m yours and you are mine.

Feeling’ so high I’m flyin’.

I hope this lasts forever,

It’s the perfect time.

My king, perfect and unrelenting.

All that you can see shall be yours.

Patriarch and savior to all those worthy.

We are but humble servants to life's greatest creation.

My king, inquisitive and wise

Why do you choose to mingle amongst fodder?

Why does rubbish peak your finer interests?

What do they provide that we cannot?

My king, ambitious and admirable.

My devotion is a testament to your greatness.

No request is too ambitious or difficult.

Your goal becomes mine, and my life becomes yours.

My king, do not be deceived by their virtues.

There are snakes in your court.

They wish to confide their humanity within you.

I only ask that you don't let their thoughts preoccupy your own.

My king, you have changed.

Why must you suffer from the concerns of the many?

Why have you cast me aside for the counsel of another?

I serve only you; my holy grail.

My king

I've been driven mad with immeasurable despair; I've lost you.

The thick air cuts my lungs, my heart bleeds & my face swells up in tears.

Why do you gaze upon me with sorrow?

My king, you no longer display your purpose, your conviction, your grace.

I see you searching for new meaning & I know I have failed you.

You are a king without a name;

A ruler whose empathy poisoned him.

A leader whose sacrifice was for the unworthy.

The king that sought to unify all under his power, and judge them equally.

I see now that you have evolved into something greater.

Beautiful, & tragic, yet with the capacity to accomplish even greater visions.

You are now Human; a man, as much as any another.

Their poison takes hold of you, but I will draw my last breath soon.

Your dreams will not die with you.

This is a song(Song Name in the title)from the soundtrack of a show called "Hunter X Hunter". Not only did the show have a profound effect on me, but this song is also emblematic of some of the biggest moments in the story. This song is classical and tragic, and I thought it was the perfect one to use for this piece.

Growing up, we've all experienced loss in some capacity. Every one has lost someone dear to them and every one has a different way to cope with that loss. You may spend the following weeks as a hermit, not wanting to be bothered. Others may spend their time working out constantly or over indulging at the dinner table. The coping varies greatly between people but there is one thing that stays consistent between every living person. There is no end to the heartache.

We convince ourselves that we moved on and that we can now finally get back to our normal lives, but that's not the truth. The truth is, regardless if our heartache is due to the death of a loved one or maybe the end of a lengthy relationship, it's not the end. That heartache remains with us permanently, always at the back of our mind clawing itself forward.

The only true end of a heartache is the sweet, dark and tender kiss of an ever approaching death. This definite end of our heartache ultimately sparks a new heartache with someone else. It's a paradox that will continue long after we're gone and therefore the end of a heartache is both a relief and a haunting thought to bare.

Eyes set on the dark ceiling,

A fresh spot begins to emerge.

Is it really something new?

Or is my eyes playing tricks on me like always?

Maybe I've been looking at the ceiling for too long,

Kept my head held up a bit too high,

I just want to lay down now.

Its puzzling somehow,

My relaxed limbs seem to contradict

The nonstop whirring of my thoughts.

Ah, my vision is getting blurry, finally

Perhaps tonight I can drift easily in the void of my dreams.