olney transportation center.
i put my bag down in the plastic seat next to me and allow the cool musty subway air envelope my senses. the lights are too fluorescent, **** they’re bright. my chest fills with pressure, the cap at my throat holding on desperately to stay put, stay tight. don’t scream. my breath is getting harder now. why do they even hang out with that person? it doesn’t make sense to me. my music gets louder in my ears, smooth bossa nova pounding brain waves. focus on the lyrics. they make me too angry. my lungs are struggling to hang onto the air, it’s coming in and out of my nostrils too fast. my throat is getting too dry, but my water bottle is too heavy. i don’t want to pick it up, i want to keep thinking. why won’t they just listen to me? why won’t they see things my way? how long is this song? it seems like it’s been forever. i’ve passed galaxies and worlds in this subway tunnel, the stars too fast for my eyes to grasp. i can’t think my way out of this one. no amount of thoughts flying around my head can fix the necessity of simply doing nothing. my hand is forced to be empty. i need to bluff. it’s way too bright in here.
logan.
thank god this song is over. i’m going to do homework instead. i don’t like this song very much, but i’m not going to change it. maybe i should turn off the music so i can read better.
wyoming.
hunting park.
erie.
allegheny.
i think i’ll be home soon. i don’t like what they did today, i should listen to my mom more. my eyes are really heavy, i wish i went to bed earlier today. maybe i’ll take a nap when i get home.
susquehanna dauphin.
cecil b. moore.
i don’t like this stop today.
girard.
time is back up to speed. maybe i’ll go to chinatown, buy some moon cakes. the mid autumn festival passed already, i wish i could’ve gone. i don’t really care for half of the things i say i like. maybe it’s a labor of love, to lie about liking something. or maybe i just don’t have the ability to say i don’t like something. but i know i dislike things. i dislike how bright these lights are, **** my migraine is getting stronger. i want to go home. i am going home.
fairmount.
my throat feels like a desert. time to put my phone down. my head hurts too much.
Sep 20, 2022
Sep 20, 2022 at 2:52 PM UTC
the tranquility of ghosting.
how i crave the slick white sheet hovering inches above the ground, barely swirling as the limbo atmosphere stands lentic, no corporeal body underneath.
how i desire the limited peripheral, two cutout eyes that only let me stare towards the floorboards and kitchen and cutlery i cannot pick up.
how i yearn for the final destination within my house, the ectoplasm that follows me around as a new family crams their stuff into the cabinets, desperate to make my grave smell like home.
how i wish i could float beside them, staring quietly at the little tikes frolicking around the living room couch, eons away from my own state, unaware of my inevitability.
how i long to be unable to pick up the knife, or cup, or shaving razor, or blanket, unable to smother, or stab, or slice, or bash.
from the tranquility of ghosting, the inability to harm is what i want most.
Feb 5, 2022
Feb 5, 2022 at 6:55 PM UTC
this is merely venting, not poetic, just anger and disappointment.
i am frustrated because i don’t care enough about the right future. i will give all of my anxieties and hopes to love, but ignore the opportunity to LEARN, and where i want to offer my intellectual skills. i am frustrated because i missed my chance to show how much i care, even though i don’t care about the nitty-gritty of it (if you can refer to the nitty-gritty of a football game), and it was because i don’t care enough about the right future.
i need to be better. i know i can do better than this. why is it always so difficult to balance these two facets, and why is no one willing to offer help? i don’t want to push anyone away or throw away something that’s good for me, but i can’t take myself with this behavior. i do not accept myself with this behavior anymore. i am going to do better.
Jan 15, 2022
Jan 15, 2022 at 9:38 AM UTC
the locomotive moves steadily across the tracks, puffing thick black smog into the air, never a whine until you pull the breaks.
the great rolling beast carries its prey, flaming fauna displaced from their rocky habitats, that wait to be swallowed up and converted to new life.
the procession of metal bodies traverses across worlds, taking its indomitable wheels into the tundra, the prairie, the urban jungle, at speeds unknown to lesser beings— or even the creators themselves.
but the mighty locomotive does not just conquer mountains and valleys, cities and forests alike.
it takes friends, partners, clients on the journey.
the smallest ones fall into slumber and breathe soundly, blending with the giant’s hum.
as the client’s size increases, their alert eyes dart across the land as the train rips through gravel, rock, and earth; a pasture of horses may be seen and addressed accordingly.
the full grown passenger opens their notebook, jotting down thoughts, identification numbers, budgets, letters, and the like.
they are often the assumed leaders within the belly of the beast, but the train knows of the true captain’s identity.
the final friends to name, the eldest in the cars.
they know the locomotive, being the on its quest across continents, possessing a gentle care with the resting of a hand upon the velvet organs of the beast.
the old ones know the displaced embers, rusted iron bones, cracked glass eyelids, and slowing wheels that come with conquered continents.
so, when the great train creaks to a stop, the elders exist their trusty cars, leave a tip for the porter, and whisper a quiet “thank you” to the train before stepping cautiously onto the oak platform below.
from the locomotive, never a whine, not even to beckon its favorite patrons farewell.
Dec 16, 2021
Dec 16, 2021 at 8:19 PM UTC
Is it best to lie in the snow
And let a scream out to the world?
To speak of ideas that have swirled,
Have fallen to the ground as slow?
Waiting for the damp heavy weight
That likes to linger on my chest
To take the fingers it has pressed
And lift them from my weak breastplate.
O, how I wish the weight was gone,
To drift away as the clouds do.
Will the weight let me call out to
The mountains holding up the dawn?
I could stand to learn a few things
From how the snowflakes like to fall.
Melting so exquisite and small,
Their bitter cold into nothing.
Dec 9, 2020
Dec 9, 2020 at 12:51 AM UTC
eat family sized mashed potatoes.
cry.
thanksgiving.
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 11:11 AM UTC
being an
outsider
doesn’t make me
any less
worthy
of love
seeing another
sitting on
the sidelines
doesn’t
limit my
ability
to make them
feel less
alone
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 9:33 PM UTC
you fell in love with an alien
you comment on my
otherworldliness
how i make you feel things
no human could do
well you, my love
you aren’t of this world either
but the difference between us
is that
you’re an angel
but
i don’t belong in heaven
i belong on mars
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 7:56 PM UTC
a car on a warm summer night
is possibly the safest place on earth
i spill my heart to you
as lavender paint strokes
decorate the sky like
a masterpiece in the louvre
the sun that sets slowly
on our waking hours
takes away more and more
of his golden light
while i wish it would last longer
the moon knows all my secrets
your shining light creeps
onto my skin through
the window frame,
rolled down to let
the cool breeze flow through
this sanctuary
“artemis”
i speak
“i’ve missed you, my moon
why must you go
and stay for such a short time?”
“i’m sorry, my child”
she whispers to me
through her beams of security
“but i am here now
what is troubling your heart?
i feel its pain”
“well,
my love here on earth
they must leave me too
and someday they won’t
come back
and that day hasn’t come yet
but i know it will.”
“how can you be so sure?
to consider someone your love
is a force too powerful
to be ignored
it simply must be
or it hurts both hearts.”
“i cannot feel their heart
whenever i try to,
they build a wall of thorns
so i cannot reach it
and the thorns on their heart
***** my own
and it cries through my eyes
which tears you shine on.”
“don’t cry, my child
with every wound
time heals
love of any kind
can prevent another
bruise
or scrape
or stab
and their thorns will soon
wilt and die
giving you the chance
to heal them too.”
“your brother peaks over the horizon,”
i say
it’s time that you must go.”
“please remember, my child
that your heart is your own
and no amount of thorns
will ever constrict
its ability to
love.”
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 11:37 PM UTC
how wonderful is it that
there’s a word that uses
the most powerful force on earth
to describe another thing
lovely
that must be what you are
whenever i think
there must be a soul out there
who can carry the weight of such a word
i think of you
i think of you and your sense of humor
always making the corners of my mouth lift
changing their everlasting shape
into a grin
i’ve come to dislike
but not when you make it appear
the way your arms have held me
sent electricity through me
yet gave me
a place to call home
a connection
that i hope you feel too
your sparkling eyes
that bore into my soul
like a cat kneading its paws
into carpet
tearing up the seams
your radiant smile
putting me into ecstatic shock
every time i see it creep onto your face
after i say some stupid
even when you laugh
and i forget it’s about me
i don’t care
because you’re happy
and i’m happy
you’re lovely, my dear
i hope you can say
the same thing about
me
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 9:06 AM UTC