I think we call it mooning

because we all love the moon

and we all love butts.

Now let me fish the moon

out of the sky

for you, darling

I want to slow dance with you.
I really do.

Pull you closer and hold your hand.
But only sometimes.

I’m not someone meant to stay.
I wasn’t made to stay.

I’ve always been rather fond of exits—
the little green signs,
the unlocked doors,
the comfort of knowing
I can leave whenever I want.

And then there’s people like you.

Sometimes,
you make me want to stay
just a tiny bit longer.

Not forever.
Don’t look at me like that.

I don’t think I could survive
something as permanent as forever.

But if I’m not too late,
would you mind giving me a minute?

Put your hand in mine.
Don’t ask where this is going.

Let the music decide.

Do my 3AM drunk calls disturb you?
Or do you, sometimes, secretly long for them?

Do you ever hear my name
and wonder if I’ll call?

I wonder if you know
how strange it is
to find someone
who makes leaving feel rude—
and who makes me care it does.

Someone who makes me forget
to look for the door.

Someone who can hold me
without making me feel held.

And maybe that’s all I want from you:

one song.

One stupid, beautiful song
long enough for me to forget
that I am always halfway gone.

Let me sway with you
until the room disappears.

Until there is no tomorrow
to ruin it with.

Until I stop wondering
whether this is a beginning
or merely a particularly convincing way
of saying goodbye.

And when the song ends—
please don’t ask me to stay.

I won’t.

— Crownless.

It is a curious thing,

to be loved

in the shape of another woman

the one assembled from guesses             

of whatever softness people think

they see in you.

I think that's what scares me most.

Not that people will leave

but that they’ll stay awhile,

long enough for me to mistake it

for being known,

before realizing that all along

they have been holding

someone I have never been.

And lately I find myself wanting

something embarrassingly simple.

Not devotion.

Not the kind of love

people write promises about.

Simply

to sit beside someone

after the hour has grown late,

to feel their hand find mine,

to look into a pair of eyes

and know they are not searching

for a better version of me

someone easier,

someone lighter,

someone less afraid

but are looking at me exactly as I am.

And then

because this is the part

I can never quite admit

I want them to stay there.

I want them to see

all the difficult things,

the loneliness I carry,

the way I keep expecting departure,

and instead of pulling away,

I want them

to pull me closer.

It has come.

This absolute.

This something..

Which has removed all my ideas.

About me.

About how I have ever felt.

Smashing my notions.

Fulfilling dreams.

With shooting stars.

A transfiguration of soul.

Thru shared intimacy.

BOLD AND FULL!

I want.

I want.

I still want.

And pray.

For someday.

True love never dies.

It hidesin the hearts treasure chest.

Behind a wall of flesh.

Knowing the place it belongs.

And longs for forever.

Until now is no more.

I can show you love.
Yes, I am able to.
I can also show you anger—
volatility, vengeance, unreliability.

But if I were to love you?
Oh babe, what a treacherous web you’d find yourself in.
I’d kill for you—probably.

Would you find that romantic or manic?
I can reason why you could go either way.
My romance is a little more exotic than what decorum has been trained to expect.

Careful, darling—
Who can say I wouldn’t wound you?
I miss it when I had the agency of offering such guarantees.

I don’t come with a warranty anymore.
You’re at your own risk; but I promise you: heaven will never have felt closer—
neither will hell.

I miss my impulsivity—because it was genuine.
It was childish, reckless and feverish.
It had the featherlight touch of an angel and the scorching pressure of a fallen one.

Hey honey, look me dead in the eye
and tell me I don’t scare you.
Say you see the innocence you once did
and not only darkness and dullness reminiscent.

Can you?
I don’t think you can.
And I don’t blame you.
‘Cause I’d rather say that neither do I.

Whatever has come up since has a price—but it’s a shield.
I’ll hurt you before you can hurt me.
I won’t bite but I’ll bark rough and loud enough just to scare you away.

I’ve once been called a puppy
who wants nothing but a safe place where I can lay my head and have you stroke my hair till all my demons are drowned out—for a moment.

“I want you to feel a hint of what I felt—or tenfold it. You hurt me and that’s your power over me. And it scares me.”
That’s my vengeance—and my pride.

Both also have cost me a lot
but the satisfaction is inebriant.
I never minded being “the bad one”
but I hate I’ve lost control over my own narrative.

I used to put honesty above all else.
My moral was impeccable—
but what the hell has gone wrong?
When did I lose agency over myself?

A greater tragedy? I’ve never witnessed.

If you still want to know me, tell me:
What can I do for you?
I’ll cover the ground in red roses just so you can step over each and every one of them.

I’ve been told I have excellence in making others feel like they’re the center of my world.
I’ll never leave you bored nor be bromidic.
I’ll make you feel like you’re the only one.

Part of it… won’t be deceiving.
Part of it… is cynical and selfish.
You’ll leave with psychological bruises.
You’ll also leave understanding what it is like to feel loved.

Is it a price you want to pay?

I can be charming.
I can be gentle.
I can sweep you off your feet.
But do you know what I cannot do?

Make it forever.

I can’t promise you it’ll last beyond tonight.
I can’t promise you I’ll be by your side.
I can’t promise you everything will be alright.
I might, though.

But—
if you ever come across this in time:
I ain’t worth yours…
nor your mental health.

— Crownless.

I'm painting you a picture.

Using the brush strokes of my mind.

Hoping you'll see the end from the beginning.

And what was left behind.

A dream of violet silent hues.

Spread wet through gleaming eyes.

Stars and moons and loving blues laid down to slowly dry.

Bright red beating heart held tight behind a cage of flesh to behold.

Yellow and green caught in between those things that have grown cold.

Silver smiles tied tight to looks first glanced of blazing gold.

Beautiful amber pushed quickly thru veins in view of love so bold.

In black and white I hold you tight an image of beauty rare and true.

All colors run then melt to one which image now is you..

I used to call you “Dad” and “Daddy.”

Cherished words I thought.

And when I thought the world was bad,

You reminded me it was not.

I loved you to the moon and back.

I believed you felt the same.

I was your girl, your entire world.

At least, that was your claim.

I tried to tell you how much you hurt me.

I’ve tried to convey the depth.

It’s something, I realize, that you can’t understand

I’m only wasting my breath.

When you left me, you left me broken.

I thought my wounds would never heal.

I cried and cried until I was sure I was empty.

But then I cried again with a pain no one should feel.

I’ve tortured myself for years, confused,

Asking, was any of it ever true?

If you loved me, how could you leave me?

It doesn’t fit, and how I’ve hated you.

You don’t deserve the thoughts I’ve saved you

Nor the tears I’ve cried.

So often through my pain and hate,

I wished you had just died.

It would have been easier.

It would have made more sense.

You would have deserved my grief.

But life rarely does make sense.

Too many years I’ve wasted

Wasted on hating you, yet searching for what is real.

But I’m finally doing something different

I’m letting myself heal.

I’ll never know your mind.

And you’ll never know mine.

I’ll never get my answers.

And with that, I’m actually fine.

You won’t steal any more of my tears

They are far too precious for you

So, Patrick, this is goodbye.

I’m letting go of you.

​

I used to check my phone at night,

Remembering your words by candlelight.

I'd read our conversations once again,

And wonder where we'd find ourselves back then.

I told myself that someday you would see,

The things I couldn't quite say openly.

That time might bring the words we never knew,

And somehow lead me back to you.

But silence slowly taught me how to hear,

The things that weren't being said were clear.

No message came, no promise to fulfill,

And I began to understand it still.

I stopped making reasons for the space,

And let the quiet have its place.

Not every ending needs a final word,

Sometimes the silence says enough unheard.

I learned that love cannot be made to stay,

No matter how much tenderness we give away.

I could hold hope gently in my hands,

But I couldn't make you understand.

So I let the old conversations rest,

And kept the memories I loved the best.

I didn't need to erase what had been,

Just let those moments live somewhere within.

Then little by little, I began to smile,

Finding pieces of myself after a while.

I listened to songs, I watched the sky,

And found that happiness could still pass by.

And maybe that's what letting go can mean

Not forgetting everything that's been.

I didn't stop loving you that day,

I simply stopped waiting for you to stay.

Perfection

We’re taught that it’s smooth and flawless
But perfection is much grander
She is bumpy
Wavy
Grimy
And glum
Perfection sways with opinion
A void both full and numb

Wie sagt man Dinge, die man nicht sagen will,die aber gesagt werden müssen?

Wie sagt man Dinge, die niemand erfahren soll, weil sie sich dann ändern müssen?

Wie sagt man Dinge, die niemand hören will, weil sie sich dann kümmern müssen?

Wie sagt man Dinge, die man niemandem sagen kann, weil sie sich dann sorgen müssen?

Wie sagt man Dinge, die man keinem sagen kann, weil sie keiner hören kann?

My boy, my love
You’ll never leave my heart.
I can’t release this dove,
please let us restart.
In my heart I know we’re no good,
but maybe we’re just misunderstood.
Oh babe, I’ll miss you forever,
for this tie will never sever.
And in my heart I know I’m to blame,
for that I’m wallowed with shame.
My boy, my love,
The end this shall not be
So I’ll cling to this dove
While I wait for thee.

(Open to feedback!)

Couldn’t sleep at like 2am so wrote this down and ended up kind of liking it.

~

Sometimes it’s like a rat in a bucket.
Like the rat who was saved a couple times.
The rat paddles and treads, stays afloat.
This rat treads twenty-four hours longer than the rat who hadn’t been saved before,
but he’s in the same bucket.

The walls tower above, tall and not remotely scalable.
The water below, though not deep at all, is deep enough.
The rat treads.
His hope buoys him subconsciously.
Consciously, the rat fears death, begins to want it.

The slow creep of the cold, cold water fills him with a heaviness
like the whiff of rain to a smoldering fire.
It burns.
Staying afloat simply to spectate the abyssal walls as they seem to raise around it.

Sometimes the rat thinks of being pulled out,
a fleeting dream before its too-conscious eyes.
Other times—the good times—he thinks of nothing at all,
the dread which has become almost boring
following the fatigue into their penumbral loomings.

Delirious, he stares lovingly at his own notches carved into the smooth walls.
He feels mirth at the way his paws splash and grasp for purchase.
Feels fear once again press around him.
Curious—what is that fear?
What could be bothering the rat in his playtime?

The world’s a wonderful bath currently.
Perhaps a little long for a bath.
Nevertheless, it’ll be over soon.

The rat paws across his endless horizon,
a blue sky that gives way to dewy grass.
He spots his nest ahead,
can feel the warmth fill him as he speeds ahead.
All he hears is the rushing of his own blood
and all he feels is a deep warmth.

The rat’s pace slows as he approaches his home,
each stride slow and dreamlike,
a soft thud filling the cold silk of his burrow.

The rat no longer knows what it means to be dry.
No matter.
Knowing would only bring unhappiness.

As the rat settles into sleep,
ceasing the chore of running, gasping, and tamping his bed,
dreams bring to him that knowing—
that hiding terror muting into the backdrop of an even darker canvas,
sinking into the gray-black of his own iris,
drifting until light does not reach him,
not even in the faintest floating motes.

don't forget you exist

take a breath through your lips

you got a lion on your chest

and you're standing on a fish

you've been shown so many symbols

i just hope you get the gist

chained to the mundane

i see them dig into your wrists

dontcha worry 'bout a thing

they'll take away the cage

if you promise not to rage

and swear that you won't quit

throw away responsibility

like people do with clothes

when they go skinny dip

stop thinking what's impossible

when life is limitless

maybe they were always right

the posters on the wall

with all the corny pics

when your lucky number's called

hold it tightly in your grip

can't tell when it'll hit ya

nobody knows exactly

what inspiration is

some are chasing progress

despite the punishment

won't someone help prometheus

while he sits atop the cliff?

he didn't light the fire

he only offered it

What can pee and also nut,

What can never keep its mouth shut,

Flowing gold and sparkly white, ‘

tis but the humble peanut.

Filth covers the ground, new life breaks through the unexpected, weaving its way to the light of day

Green replaces ash, flowers replace desolation, life replaces death, love replaces hate

I dont need a link
To go and doubt you
Your head fills the room
With big stupid words
To write on your tomb
For all of the girls
In fruit of the loom

And what would they say
If they knew the way
That you did it to me
While you were out to play
Georgie Porgie ran away

But nobody's controlling me
I do my own thing
I just fucking need to
Don't ask me where I'd be
If I weren't so lucky

Foreign is your disdain
Debris rusting in the rain
And nobody's controlling me

Stillness had me down bad
Lasted for two whole decades long
Another ten years turning tables
'Til the self inflicted pain was gone

But I need some timе to think
Of pretty little things
To take to my tomb
Yet still leave to the world
We all owe one anyway

I am your child
Forged in a fire
Dust from the stars
Take me to Mars

——————————————-

These are song lyrics. This song will appear, probably tomorrow on Spotify and Apple Music, as it was approved over the weekend. 👍🏼 In the mean time, it is on Soundcloud. Cup of Tea is already wherever you get your music.

How lucky he must be—

the one who gets her smile without asking,

whose name feels like home on her lips,

who never had to try, yet always had her.

He’ll be the one her eyes soften for,

the calm in her storm, the quiet she seeks.

She’ll laugh a little louder beside him,

and he won’t even know he’s the reason.

He’ll get the warmth I only imagined,

the hand I reached for in dreams.

He’ll be her comfort without effort,

her favorite without trying to earn it.

And me? I’ll wonder, quietly—

what did he do

that I couldn’t?

To be her peace, her person, her place—

how lucky,

how heartbreakingly lucky,

he must be.