In the morning, I gather my thoughts of yesterday
Like the foraging chipmunk, collecting acorns
And stuffing them miserly in my jowls
The past is sustenance for a somnolent soul

As age condemns my faculties
I pull, from my once copious jowl
A jewel of sorts
A garnet set in fool’s gold

My memory is manufactured
Assembled and disassembled
No longer what was or is or will be
But was and is and never has been

I confine my thoughts to winter
Where barren fields and sterile trees
Offer less to recollect
And empty my jaws of these useless reminiscences

Love.

It's not something you play with;
It's not just a game;
It's not a win or lose situation;

So don't play my heart like a game.
Don't try to win.
Don't abandon me for all the wrong reasons.

Love.

It's supposed to be the best feeling on earth.
It's supposed to make you nervous.
Its supposed to show you your other half.

So I'd appreciate it if you didn't look at me like your phone...

Your neck is bruised and red and raw,
dear dream.
Your pulse is feeble, last that I saw,
dear dream.
Your eyes, they have lost that light,
dear dream.
Your soul has given up this fight,
dear dream.

This you know in your heart,
dear dream.
That you were never meant to be a part
of the soaring hope and flourishing start
expected of you by them,
dear dream.

The noose,
It tightens around your neck,
dear dream.
They’re telling you you’re a wreck,
dear dream.
You are given marching orders, ‘
dear dream.
You are given reckless borders,
dear dream.

The noose,
It tells you how to feel,
dear dream.
It tells you when to heel,
dear dream.
And when I tell you to run,
dear dream.
Catching you will not pass for fun,
dear dream.

The noose,
Waits for you in light and dark,
dear dream.
Waits to douse that spark,
dear dream.
Flee, my dear,
dear dream.
Hide, my dear,
dear dream.

The noose,
It waits patiently for its due,
dear dream.

Once the nerd,
who sits in a corner
and reads her troubles
away.

Was the popular girl,
talked to, played with,
flirted with.

Past being the *****.
Teased at,
flirted with sexually,
hurt looks.

Now reverting,
turning myself inside out
and letting myself be true.

Searching for answers
and myself,
comforting tired tears,
contemplating what to do with excessive unsolved problems.
Quiet. Observant.
Notices everything, good and bad,
but does nothing.