King of Space.

Preferred pronouns: royal

Triggers: bullshit / hypocrisy / party pooping / tumblr

There’s sure to be absurdity

To finding what you seek

When stalking such improbably

Auspicious destiny.

With shouts of rumbling silence

I’ve called you from afar

And waited patiently on the

Reverse side of the stars.

Like painted-over bruises

With vengeance on the mind,

The steps behind your feet glow bright

Like galaxies aligned.

Your life’s littered with princes;

It’s time to try a king

And for a king to forge ahead

And relearn how to dream.



More than the sum of my regrets

I sit at my bench,

Eyes dark and heart blasting

Hard the music of intent,

Played with violence

To ignite a dying world

Into a furnace,

Forging children into steel

And all these little creatures.

Free from form and bone and flesh,

Together we will cheat death.

Together we will forget

Any sense of loss

And not be stopped,

Hack time itself and never drop.

Sleep deep and dream eternal.

We’ll dance when you’re awake.


Death is just a bridge;

Life no more than just an inch.

And these toys upon my bench,

More than the sum of my regrets.



Deaf night and dark wave,

A nurse come to make rounds.

Hard to spot here in the dark

but felt upon the skin.

Cold and wet

repeated crests

in fireworks descend.

First steal a mind

then seal its eyes.

You carry less water

but carry it harder

'til my beaches of ribs ache

and the hands on my face shake

and the clock says it’s too late. 

You’re coming in farther

from distances longer,

eroding me further.

You crash unaware with the force of my murder.



In stillness

I wonder what am I becoming?

Carved out in the shape of a thing with no form.

A dark sea’s inversion.

A sound mind’s perversion.

Killing time for me.

Killing me in time.

#tbt simpler times

#tbt simpler times



Now my resolve wants to fall like confetti

As Time, she teaches me how messily

Overcalculation kills. 

This heart’s an uzi I cannot keep steady.

I’m scared of what it’s become, 

Scared of what will become of me.

We wonder, when will this mouth open

And, too, when will it matter again?


All That Glitters.

All That Glitters.

“Wanted by many. Taken by none. Looking at some. Waiting for one.”

–  -Unknown (via psych-facts)

I feel you, bro.

I feel you, bro.

I miss you. Sorry I suck.

Anonymous asked: “how are you”


Horny and emotionally unstable