I guess this is what a real life existential crisis feels like.
Small bits of thought swirl through my head,
A tornado of broken glass.
And now that the wind has settled,
I struggle to fit the pieces together
In a way that would resemble a window
Through which I might view myself.

i just ate dinner
now i'm a new person
can we start over?
nice to meet you.

My mind is an ocean
An ecosystem
Populated by thoughts that swim like fish.
My pen is a submarine,
Taking me places never seen before
The sea life down here are alien and beautiful.
The birds fly overhead
Never seeing past the surface,
Swooping down to catch a fish or two,
Never imagining the colourful creatures
Who reside in the lightless depths

I am an alien.
A being from another race.
You are not alone in the universe.
I've been sending signals toward your star cluster
For billions of years
Into the vacuum of space
With no response.
You are not alone in the universe.
There is so much possibility of knowledge.
Understanding.

maybe i should just press delete
to make my words disappear
because i'm not a poet.

Because love is selfish

Or is it selfless?

I think it's both.

I've learned to know without thinking
In fact, I barely even use my brain
I'm dumb.
But I know a few things
And at least I have a heart

oversharing
undercaring
people staring
lights glaring

I lay here in bed,
The thoughts in my head:
Grains of sand caught in a dance by the desert wind.
But as consciousness slowly slips out of reach,
They settle down somewhere else
Far away from where they started
In this tiny world of my mind.

Her mind is loud with language never spoken
Peering into the world as it swims through its fishbowl
With a gleaming silver sword, she fights the monsters within
Brave enough to live life differently
She sets out on a voyage: an infinite quest for knowledge
Picking facts like flowers
And weaving them into her tapestry of understanding
Her only true ally is herself
She is independent, invincible
Crying tears than aren’t hers: always emotionless
Mysterious to even herself
And as quickly as she came, she will go
She sees things differently
Understands how everything functions together
How everything is everything
How relative it all is
She is the universe, we all are
And when she dies, she will continue to exist

Poems don't have to rhyme.
What a way to spend your time,
Constrained within a paradigm.
But, admittedly when they do,
They are quite sublime,
Giving each word a reverberating chime.

Writer's block
Is like a rock,
A door that's locked,
A brain out of stock.

The mind is a forest
Still with places where no one goes
It doesn't disclose the secrets no one knows

There is no line between poetry and prose.
Because poems don't have to rhyme.

I am a rouge planet.
Without a sun around which to orbit.
To give me warmth and life.
Small and insignificant.
All alone in the empty sterility of space.

In the middle of the night I awoke

With a lion growling in my stomach
So carefully and without a sound,
I made my way upstairs and into the kitchen
To fetch a delicious snack for this lion
That calls itself my stomach

As I opened the refrigerater
And as the pale white light it emitted
Illuminated the room,
My eyes began to scan the shelves for something to eat.
When all of the sudden
They landed on a strange
Blackish-
brownish-
greenish
Lump.

What is this strange lump?
I thought to myself.
So with the bravery of a thousand warriors,
I extended my arm
And lifted the container.
I removed the lid.
And inside
What I found
Was

What used to be an avocado.

I went back to bed.

someday my house will fall down.
it was never my home

someday my city will burn.
and that's okay

someday my best friend will betray me.
people change

nothing ever stays the same, nothing is forever.

the world is a sandcastle

Greetings, good sir, please, may you be troubled to donate your time and attention, so that I might share with you a little nugget of knowledge? Rather, a packet of information?

Yes?

Well perchance you have not considered this hypothesis,
but I do belive you may or may not be a natural born idot.

A natural born idiot, my good sir?! Why, my heavens, I do belive I most certainly have considered that proposition! In fact, I consider it every day!

I will never lose faith in humanity
Faith is illogical
And I try my best to be logical
I never had faith in the first place

There must be a rhinovirus
In my hippocampus
Because I am slowly going insane
How else can I explain
My notion
That the Sonic Hedgehog gene
Is what's keeping me from being a cyclops?

In an infinite universe, you are an infinite mystery

You are a hypercube, a pan dimensional entity with the possibility of never ending invisible sides

You are a tiger chasing its tail

You are a strand in the translucent fabric of reality

You are my friend, my enemy, my lover, my family

You are a stranger

You are a symbol, a code to convey a message

You are God

You are nothing

You were born to die but will never cease to exist

You are a microbiome, a world, a home

You are the sum of your parts

You are not meant to be understood

You are a unique copy

You are a paradox

You are a tool created by the cosmos for which to understand itself

You are we

My mind is like a pawn shop.

Most people wouldn't care about all the odds and ends in there.

But if you do, and you can make a fair exchange, anything in there is yours.

So shop around any time,

You never know what you may find

Tiny whirling particles
Tumble as they descend from the sky.
I sit in the warm yellow library
As I observe them through the window.

Sea levels rise
And the cruel frigid waters
May one day flood the island of my mind

my poems are so good that they're bad. they are infinitely deep and meaningful and therefore don't mean anything at all.

If each neuron in your mind were a tree,
How big do you think
The forest would be?

i received a hug from an invisible force
it felt amazing
until i realized i couldn't move

We used to meet
Every Friday
Now we don't.

i wish i could love someone as much as my cat loves me

and i wish i could feel something when i touch myself

i wish my life existed outside my room

i wish i had things to talk about

Some find me amusing
Some find me bemusing.
Others find me vexing
Or even perplexing.

I don't care what you think
Unless I do.
But I mustn't look down
And start feeling blue.

Mr. Koon, what a loon
What you taught us last June
Will be forgotten soon
Most probably by noon

milk is just grass
stupid questions
what's music?
*** is weird
there must be more to life
spider
can i brush your teeth?
i'd smile for you
even though you don't deserve it

is eating me alive
its digital teeth tear through my flesh
blood is on the screen

all i ever wanted was to be loved

Would it be ok
To disappear away
Today?

Here is a poem I composed for you,
Like the ripples in the laces when I tie my shoes.

Discombobulating bobbleheads,
The knobby knuckles,
The seat belt buckle.
Introspeculating lobby beds.
The bumps in the road were on my head,
Disconnecting me from the thread.

Once spoken gone
Once written ignored
Millions of them
Reused and recycled
Pointless
But worth so much

they are terrible

I wish I could be the right thing

For the right person

But I'm the wrong thing for everyone

And everyone's wrong for me

I set the box on the shelf, watched it click into place, aligning with the others: rows upon rows of boxes, identical, never changing.
The conveyor belt carried them up and away. Who knows where they are all going. All I know is that this is my home. The place where I'm safe. The place I belong.

The quail and whippoorwill went their separate ways. They fled the storm, diverging in opposing directions. Packed a suitcase and flew away, never to be seen again.

Don't get caught in the storm, she told me. But how can I get caught when I am in the center of it all?

I'm tired of impressing people, or trying to I mean.
But once I win someone over, I'm bored of them

Allow me to tell you a short little story
Of a man from a distant land.
He had a name.
His name was Matt.
And this young man named Matt,
Also had a cat.

He was having a little chat
With his brother (quite a brat).
They spoke of this and that
Standing by the doormat.

Opened the door to his flat.
And within it, saw his cat,
Wearing a purple hat,
Whilst sitting on the mat.

"What is that?!"
Said Matt.
"Where on earth did you get that hat?"
But, of course the cat
Didn't answer that!