These feelings get over me
Making me unable to speak,
Think.
It's a curse to feel too much
Noticing every little thing
Their voice changing
The way they behave
How they talk to me now
Ignoring me
I feel them shouting at me
Even through texts
I feel them getting mad at me
Still unable to speak
It's been years now
Still I have this feeling
Creeping in my bones
Making me mute

bone whistle breath
whittling the words   i curse with thistle    
                      no more taking life like medicine
                    flob it all up   and rate the streets
                                                license to do

I wrote a letter to an old poet.
The paper: stained,
the pen: dry.
Then “Time stopped,” as the poet would say,
and often I find myself convinced by the claim.

I stare at the parchment,
at a loss for what to write—
letters jumbled
into half-made sentences,
with words that have no provenance.

It was moonlight when I started.
Now it’s day, and I stare
out the window.
I realize now—it was love we shared.
But the poet I knew is long gone.
His voice: an echo in my mind.
His poems—nothing but a mere song of his thoughts.
Words
that then were just momentary.

I recall him sitting in this very place,
writing until his pen
spilled ink all over the desk.
My gaze lingers on the stains that remain—
even the table can’t forget his trace.

I try to find it in myself
to forget him,
to forgive him
for tangling me in his mess.
To dust off the remains of his presence.

I find myself staring at the parchment once more,
and for the first time, I realize he had cursed me—
leaving me with his poetry behind.
Now all I write is but a shadow of him,
his voice stuck in the back of my mind.
And perhaps that was the cruelest thing he had done:
leaving me to bleed on parchment,
to be a mere trace—to fade.

They laid me to sleep
in a coffin made of glass
lined with velvet apologies
thinking I'd dream of oceans
or forgiveness
or that one perfect nectarine
I'd dropped in 2003.
The ceiling shattered
while a symphony played
... wolves chasing Peter,
and me.
They chewed on my ankle -
wearing a voice that once prayed for me.
My nerves bloomed bruises.
My hands turned to questions,
tossing runes to the laughing sky
that held no answers.
My skin peeled,
old wall paper from worn bones,
regret curling
smoke above untended altars.
This is what it must mean
to be haunted by your own heartbeat,
to taste rust on your tongue,
with feet that remember
what a mind will not admit.
Love letters delivered in salt,
signed in static,
that simply read
"Persephone,
come home."

Remember you
I was Simon, an architect trying to find precious artifacts.
I found the crown,
The cause of all my frost,
The thing I thought would save me,
But it changed me.

Just as I was giving up hope, I found you,
The most precious artifact of them all.
My Marceline.
A little vampire girl,
Lost in her own ways,
In a world too unforgiving to let you in.

You were the only thing that made the days bearable.
I held onto you when everything else fell apart.
You were the reason I kept going.

But now I’m the Ice King, lost and scarred.
I try not to lose myself because I need to save you.
But who’s going to save me?

I found you in the wreckage of a war,
Just a scared little girl, lost and alone.
I was just a guy,
Scared and searching for my home.

Remember you.
We faked our laughter to ward off the fear.
Just the two of us, plus dear old Hambo who was always there,
Always together, a patchwork family of
Not one,
Not two,
But three.
Inseparable and together, side by side,
With broken smiles and hearts we tried to hide.

Like two pieces of a puzzle, we fought together
To stay alive.
But before I knew it, I had to leave.
You were gone from my life.

I see you as my daughter,
My sweet girl who saved me
More than I ever saved her.

The father you should’ve had, I couldn’t find.
We lived this ruin of a world together,
Until I could no longer ward off the evil that came with the cold.
Now the ice has frozen everything,
And I forget the man I was, the love I once brought.

Remember you.
Even through all the things I’ve forgotten,
For every moment that fades away,
Know that until I come back again,
My life will always be cold and sad.
I just wish it wasn’t like this.

I miss you, my Marcy girl.
Please forgive me
For whatever I do
When I don’t remember you.