Eve: 2 Seconds Post-Bite 

I am made of mistakes and anticipation,

Of regret and hopes of salvation,

Of a kind of loneliness that won’t dissolve,

the kind of guilt that can’t be absolved

 

I am woven of timidness,

Of the inability to decline,

I offer myself to monsters,

In hopes they won’t oblige

 

Because I am scattered everywhere,

I lie in pieces, so thin

And I can’t recall a time content,

In a sentience that feels so grim

 

Yes, I am not now nor then

Nor will I ever be,

I float like dust particles in the air

(The ones that you can scarcely see)

 

And I hurt from the inside out,

I want to scream and cry

I want to be seen and heard and felt

But my body simply lies

My tongue lay limp in my mouth

My eyes submissively recline

I breathe and beg my body cope

But my stubborn lungs decline

 

I am made of paranoia and smoke

Of black thoughts and shame

The sort of jaded soul at which you poke

The sort that’s easy to blame

I am a blend of nausea and withdrawal

Of plague, sickness, and inconclusive reigns

I am a creature that howls and crawls

In the safe shadows under an onyx plain

 

And I am everything I vowed never to become

Everything I claimed to loathe once

I am she who’s pain I mocked before I dared endure

For though knowledge satisfies, it cunningly vanquishes the pure.

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Chasing the Man in the Moon 

Something about before that spelled opportunity 

Like anything was possible 

As though nothing was too vast or difficult to conquer the way so many things seem now

There were no inhibitions 

Magic was as commonplace as its absence seems now

Hope echoed in the innermost circle of the Elysium that was our imagination, radiating warmth so that we were at peace inside and out 

And it is kind of hard to acknowledge that it all changed so quickly 

A moment, or some indefinite span of time,

What does it really matter?

The magic is gone 

And reality is here

The truth sharply jabs at us as we try to experience the happiness we once felt unconditionally in the form of an ephemeral high 

Daydreaming of the bliss

That’s the thing about letting go of the past 

It’s immensely more difficult to let go of that which brought us joy than that which was painful

Things are not as glorious as they could’ve been 

We have been stripped of opportunity 

Someday is here, and we have nothing to show 

We ran with all our might toward the grand, magnificent Moon, 

Hoping to witness him up close in all of his greatness 

Only to find a small white speck that we must squint to discern, his true form

The curtain falls, the charade is over

We look around and at each other

Even you look different 

Less patient, disappointment has weathered your soul 

The promise of Nirvana was as fruitless as the chase of the source of the light that we seemed to have made up inside our heads 

There is only darkness now 

Where do we go from here?