We spit in the mud and made clay,
And we molded ourselves as we saw us.
I saw our creation as the near future,
You only saw the past.
I saw our creation as my biggest desire,
You saw something you didn’t believe in.

One month later and I walk a dirt path,
And it reminds me of our clay.
I don’t sculpt much nowadays,
Maybe I was never meant to.
But along the path I spotted someone walking

I smiled, kept walking, and took a breath.

Breathing felt better once I knew it wasn’t clay; it was just mud.

All it takes is one person
To pull a poem out of the stack and say
“This is good, people should see it”
Never mind the other contenders
Or the fact that it’s been sitting there
Under a pile of other feelings, pages, works
For so long that it’s warped and dusty
Because one person likes it
And shared it with the world
And suddenly it’s a masterpiece
Even if it’s not
But that’s a beautiful thing, albeit frustrating
Because all it takes is one person

Shadows of a future dancing in the light.

When I look into the darkness of another early night.

How many hours have now met me and passed?

How many days until I finally reach my last?

In a room full of dust I am forgotten waste.

A repulsive disease plaguing my loved ones with distaste.

Little legs can’t take me as far as they might.

I remain in darkness so as not to cause a fright.

Samsa the traveling salesman; a haunting, unfamiliar name.

Samsa the traveling salesman; soon gone before his fame.

My foot taps concrete
To the beat of my blood

My mouth is an acoustic guitar
Strumming your name against my lips

My cheeks go red
At the images I conjure

My mind is a snare drum
Pounding against my better judgement

There's just something
about working your *** off
and getting no payoff
that people try to turn into a lesson

the fact of the matter is:
that's just the way it is.

You can hear them
Stories that turn into pantomimes
Shadows dancing in his mind
Joining hands in the quiet
Breaking free when the voices come back

Me
That word; it’s poisonous to us
“It’s not you, it’s me.”
“That’s so me.”
“He hurt me.”
Me
I don’t know what to do with that word
I don’t know why I feel that way about
That word
Me
It’s something we say every day
It’s something we feel every day
It’s something we worry about all day
Me
It’s the problem we all have
It’s the problem none of us can fix until
We hit rock bottom and then that’s all we have left
Me
“Me and you.”
“It’s selfish of me.”
“It’s difficult for me to...”
it’s someone I’m stuck with
It’s someone I don’t want to know so well
It’s someone I want others to get to know
Me

A tragedy of conversation
Can bring a tremendous friendship  
To an untimely holt

“I have stretched out my skin
I have worn my face out
This is the last day of my life
And the first day of hers

Everything I am and have been
Is now sewn into her lineage
Everything she will one day be
Has to be better than what I was

The pressure of creating a perfect home
Is the only thing that keeps me calm
The stresses of becoming a role model
Only make me try to be better

The reason I’m in this position
Is the reason I get out of bed everyday
This is the last day of my life
And the first day of hers”

- Who I strive to be when my time comes

My life shattered.
It just fell down into little pieces in front of me.
And there wasn’t a thing that I could do, it seemed, except look at all the colorful shards that lay scattered across the floor.
I picked one up, and held it in my hand, up to my heart, and I forced it in my mind.
And as I worked I kept it there, that one little piece, that made me feel safe and happy and wonderfully scared.
Time passed, and I had created something different.
It wasn’t the same as before, but it was beautiful; a mosaic of my past and my hopes for my future.
But one piece was missing- the one I had held onto for so long.
And I thought all that time that I had studied it so intently and memorized it’s shape so meticulously that when I was ready to fit the piece into the center of my creation, it would fit perfectly.
But instead, it resisted. Desperate to complete it, I pushed and pushed with everything and nothing left inside me. The work of art began to crack from the middle outwards. And i found myself in agony deciding if I would I risk it all for the remarkable piece that didn’t even fit, or if i would I give up on something I had idealized for too long with too much of myself? But before I could move, something interesting happened. One of the shards took its place, and the creation seemed to embrace it. And I could see my own reflection in the center of everything for the first time.

Whiskey and sours
In the lonely hours
Is a bubbly dream
As I’m letting off steam

Why should a sun dictate
What we see and what we don’t?
Are we that insecure
That we have to pay
For our passion
To be seen?

I’m not a beautiful person
I’m not exactly unique
I know enough but not a lot
But I am still here
And that’s wonderful
Or so I’ve heard
But I’m trying my ****** hardest
I hope they’ll see that someday

I do my make up in the morning
I make a cup of coffee
I pack my bag and leave for school
Except it’s not the same

I jot down notes I won’t remember
I sometimes sleep in class
I walk down the hall and look for you
Except it’s not the same

I think about the other day
My heart skips a beat
I think about where we could go
Except it’s not the same

We talk about our favorite authors
We write new stories together
We watch TV and talk about our future
Except it’s not the same

Things were moving fast, you got scared
You can guess what happens next
I make up some excuse, get home early
But this time it’s all too familiar

Black umbrellas crowd and cover
crying family and broken lovers
they gather to mourn their dearly departed
they gather to finish what merely was started

"He was brave and he knew how to care"
"He listened to me, he was always there"
a gap between life and love and death
has stolen a bit of everyone's breath

Don't cry for him, he's doing well
everyone knows he is not in hell
But still the heartsick mourners cry
"Why God Why was it him and not I?"

Hail to Mark Twain, and John Steinbeck, and William Shakespear.
Hail to the kings of literature and jesters of yesterday.
Their crowns are their words and their jewels are their jokes.
Their Reign is unending yet ended and gone.

Now we fall before beauty tutorials and conspiracy theories.
For dogs chasing cats, and girls chasing boys.
Now their crowns are rusty, and their jewels unpolished.
No one tends to their memorials as they tend to surf the web.

The other day was a lonely sigh
My tongue, caught, between your teeth
lips were chapped and mouths were dry
The first time that I was underneath

Of course it all meant nothing
It was not something that mattered
Never mind that I can’t help blushing
When you asked me I was only flattered

But days weeks and months more
My body yearns for your hands to explore
Just a look, we both know what’s in store
On the couch, on the bed, on the floor

Your touch is an addictive ******
Whisper again how my skin is like butter
Your sigh is passionately delicate
The lovely truth I keep below a mutter

But we are friends and will remain
Though we occasionally miss each other
I will always wait with such disdain
But commitment is not recovered

The moon woke me up with a sideways grin
In my bassinette, in my hollowed home
I used my foot to scratch my chin
I ruffled and preened, as I lacked a comb

Brother has gone to find me dreaming
Sister sees me restlessly sleeping
Father is a sun whose face is now beaming
Mother can be found behind me, weeping

Wings are for my stamina
Beak is for my bite
Bone becomes shear lamina
Now I can all but take flight.

You were like a coat of nail polish-
I felt pretty when you were there, but you made me feel cheap, which made it satisfying to slowly chip away at little pieces of you.
But when you were completely gone,
I felt like I was missing something.

Hands stretched toward the light
Begging to pull them out of the dark
Screams of talent belting out
Like an undiscovered meadow lark

This little blue jay with her white wings
Has her tail feathers dipped in black
Yes, she’s taking off in brilliance
But her story says something her eyes lack

The rhino, the gecko, and finally the wolf
Keep her feathers on their tongues
But she’s escaped with a heavy breath
And she releases her song gone unsung

Say goodnight to me
Say it softly
Before you drift away
Before you walk across the ocean
Or sail across the dunes
Or go wherever you go
When you travel through thoughts
When your eyes are closed
If you could dream aloud
If you would allow me
And I could know you all the more
And have the chance to be adored
But you’ve left without saying goodnight
But you’ve gone without telling me, softly
That you would walk across the ocean
That you would sail across the dunes
For me
For us
Yet you haven’t done so
Yet I’m still left wondering
What you think about
What you dream

I stood, unformed, a block of stone
I had no name I had no form
I was unharmed and unhappy
I was uninspired I was wasted potential.

In you walked with my purpose in your mind
Inch by inch you conquered my exterior
Making a rock into a marble masterpiece
I took up an image you chose for me

My imperfection chiseled away
My silhouette carved from the core
My details etched to refinement
Your mark engraved in my mind

We are the universe
Expanding every day
pushing each other
further apart.
Wishing each other
a better start.

We are a sickness
spreading everywhere-
Giving each other
painless coughs.
Telling each other
that's why it's off.

I want to sleep
But your name won’t let me

For some reason, it keeps shouting
Over and over

And I’ve tried counting sheep
But they’ve started herding to form letters

I don’t doubt you can imagine
What they might spell

Nothing seems to help except giving in
And thinking about our house, and our life

We own the sheep, and I knit from their wool
And then I wake up

And the cycle continues
And I can never stay asleep long enough

To hear my name, finally
The way I like to hear you say it

The creases that caress your lips
The concavity that hides under your cheekbones
The pronunciation of your collar bone
The humble nature of your smile

The whispers you huff when you're nervous
The quiver of your brow when you're upset
The pauses you take to differentiate the important words
The twitch of your ears when you yawn

The way you look
When you look at me
And I can see the world in your iris
And  I can see the way you see me

Is it possible to miss someone you’ve never met
Or is it just a yearning to know someone different

Someone who isn’t someone and no one that resembles them

Someone who looks at you for the purpose of seeing you
Instead of playing a game for which you never learned the rules

Someone who cares enough to try from time to time
And doesn’t make excuses as to why they make excuses

Someone who apologizes in a timely manner because they never needed to apologize

Someone who doesn’t miss out because they were too afraid of being happy

Someone who never grows tired of listening to you because they’re hearing what you’re saying
And they share just as much as you do

Someone who only exists in another place that seems impossible to find
And someone who is not
Someone else