Kayfucius

A collective of thoughts, poetry, writing works, blurbs, and other randomosity

I’m anemic, Though my bones and marrow are full of Irony. And ironically, I’m tired… of apologizing For being unapologetic. For who I am. Happiness as a state of mind and being is a supplement, though as a drug, it is more an idiosyncrasy. …I’ve yet to master the navigation of its highs and heights.

#hashtag my life, shorten it to simple sentences, and character limits and finite blocks of shorthanded text. Strip my linguistics from my creatively complex lexicon, equate my inability to comprehend conformity to the mass desire to relate. To someone, to anyone, [to] find their flawed differences mirrored in another being’s abbreviated expression(s) of self. I …

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I want things I can’t have; Things that are more than physical, more than emotional, more than possible. I want things I know I deserve things so easily attainable I’ve convinced myself they’re only future dreams. Dreams that I’ll try to step up to but instead place aside [with] other things I’ll get to dull …

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I still feel like an impostor but… not in that I’m hiding or faking my presence, but in that I have trouble finding a sense of belong wherever I am. Really, moreso in that the need to belong hurts intensely more than the truth of the knowledge that I don’t.   23 March 2019


October 18, 2018

Took a few days off,

Now I’m back with another one off

the top of this dome,

where whimsy and logic freely foam.

Pen keys open

[the] doors to my haven.

Writing a sweet freedom;

stories of belong,

Wistful strains of home

My soul’s siren song.

You don’t understand my love. You don’t understand the depths of its deep, the flows of its flux. Like rivers, like oceans, terrifying bottomlessness – Weightless heaviness like stepping unexpectedly from the shallows. You don’t understand my heart, How its every beat creates rhythms that know dance, Yet there’s no dancing When we touch, Only …

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Make way for my wayward brother, not soon behind there comes another. My brothers blinded to fate and wonder… Journeys shorn short by converging thunder of badge and bullet, that angrily trill eternity’s song… Clutching one another; they dance erratically to glory’s gong – Threads of bloodborne melody woven into harmony of wrong. Once a …

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Kayfucius

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