People
Have a confounding ability
To hide our feelings
So much
That we no longer
Feel them.

Trying to put labels on things
Is extremely exhausting.
Everything is just too many things
To characterize.
But that’s okay
I’m gonna try and put labels
On myself anyway.

I feel like
I could be characterized as a waterfall.
For example,
When I write one poem on HePo
It takes me about 15 minutes to finally
Shut up.

I got 100 followers!
Whoo hoo!
Thank you so much
For reading the nuclear waste
Of my messed up brain!
Thank you for encouraging me to continue.
I definitely couldn’t have gotten this far without you guys!

We are all soldiers
Fighting famine and sadness.
We’re fighting ourselves too, I think.
What a painstaking task
That we assign ourselves.

Many people
Believe that things
Sometimes aren’t real enough.
They revel
In the objective,
They wish for things they can see.
Novelty
Is fun as long as it’s
Safe and tangible.
People believe what they can see,
And with all of this I disagree.

I revel in the imaginary.
I am afraid of what is real.
I wish for things
Only I can see
In my mind.
I despise the safe and tangible.
Guess I’m insane.

For me,
Days don’t exist.
They blur
Into long stretches of time instead:
Boring
Not boring
Happy
Sad
Painful
Monotonous
Angry.
I don’t measure time in days
Or months
Or even years.
Time for me
Is measured in emotion.

Remember the beauty
Of silence.

Remember when
Monotonous blab
Wasn’t used as a substitute
For art.

Remember when I could trust
The words of others.