funny how it ends so quickly
when the beginning seems
to last an eterinity and then some

all it takes is one missed foot step
or perhaps a mispoken word
or maybe just one text read out of
context to send the inevitable spiral
down the ******* drain

i wish that i cared more, that i cried
more than just three stupid, simple,
stunned tears, not because i have lost you
but because you have lost me and i
can't quite understand what makes you
think that i am deserving of being lost

i will stay awake and stare at the spot
where you told me you wanted to spend
a life time staring at the universe with me,
i will stay awake and wish that my phone
would vibrate with your name on the screen,
i will stay awake and i will do absolutely nothing
because the ball has been in your court
for so long that it's deflated and brittle and
all it does is land with a thud on the ground

i will stare at stamp ridden hands and remember
how you stared at me and saw nothing worth
saving or having and i will cut the strings between us
and wait for the wind to whisk me away

Everything was dreary
...And bleak.
And my skin happened to look red and splotchy.
All I had wanted
Was to binge on coco flavanols and overdose on caffeine.
I hadn't moisturized my skin after my shower, or put cover up on while it was still moist and warm. My veneer had not been established.
I told myself it didn't matter..
But really this issue was the cultivation
The turning point of my day.

Then I put my face on.
The grey, somber mask turned to Lovely, Feminine Pink.
As I spread the beige cream across my complexion, I felt something shift; insidious.
I felt the ******* I had been enslaved to.
I had been the one
With no friends and no sellouts to lug around with the rest of her baggage.
I had been the one
Who gawked and sneered
At the self-medication of the lonely girls who looked oh-so attractive
With their gleaming, hair~framed faces
And popping eyes.
What have I become?
I now claim this self selling drug
As my own.
What does it mean? What does it say about me?
Even more importantly, what does it say about you, and your stand point?
Do you put your face on, or do you let your soul bubble out of the surface of your complection?
FACE
A FACE
A million faces, pretty ones.
It's time to face the place of natural grace and replace the superficial first impression we chase.

Yes i can swim
strokes through the sea
but the swordfish is better
much better than me

Yes i can fly
my eager engines burn
nothing to the falcon
simply done, once learned

Yes i can run
toss my legs in front
leisure to the cheetahs
three fold faster on the hunt

Oh but did you know
just how few of these?
When we left the gates
map and guide made me

Here’s to the days
when getting out of bed
is a game of Russian roulette.
When the you that exists
above the sink
seems the more realistic
of the two.

When your pen is filled
with disappearing ink and
your face is covered
in quick-drying lead paint.
When the salt that shakes
from every orifice
coats your failing tongue,  
and you’re more likely
to bust your ***
than a move.

Here’s to those days—
let them be few and far between!
But if you crack that paint
and see the words before they fade,
you find all your possibilities.

Here’s to those self-same days
when you discover yourself.