Cosmic Release

Equal measures of comfort
Separated ineffably by a bus route;

Perhaps all we can seek is comfort:
Happiness is too much to ask for.

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An Idea

Here’s one for you
The person who came back
But feels as though
Had just left;

It is not possible
That you are more reachable
That far away than you are
Just close by;

It was nice to feel you near
Yet it isn’t so when you are
Actually close because now you seem
So far away;

An idea: yes an idea
That is what this is
An idea and nothing more than
Something that doesn’t exist;

You’re a terrible friend
(But I still like you as one haha)

The Storm

As things get messier
A turbulence ensues
That sweeps the lining
Right off the bed cover

Leaving everything under
Exposed with a stench
A sight so gruesome
Even the Joker looks away;

There is no order
Underneath this disorder
Only chaos beneath
An unlikely cover;

Smile at me for awhile
As I clean up the mess
Or salvage whatever
If there is anything left;

Maybe the storm hasn’t started
Perhaps there is hope as yet.