I can’t sleep
Again.
How original…an artist with insomnia…or so I presume
Sleep by closing eyes
Let your
mind drift
but
the noises shoot your swollen lids open and we’re back to
SQUARE ONE.
At least I get a mediocre poem out of it.
Continued counting of sheep but their wool turns to cotton
And
The bahs turn to words spoken three days ago in a coffee shop at 8:27 pm with a friend you hadn’t seen in three weeks
And you
Wonder, why  you can’t be there now instead of…Oh
It’s 3:20 a.m.
When did that happen?
Plans of early morning torture are there and you know
If you don’t rest now you’ll be tired all day
VICIOUS CYCLE-
-sleepwhen you don’t want to be tired forever
God, I wish MY  THOUGHTS WOULD SHUT UP
that’s probably why I enjoy the silence
When you don’t let it get a word in during the day, it always wants out at night
I wonder if I’m nocturnal? Science point to otherwise, but I beg to differ.
Xoxo turns to ** over my eyes because I guess what they say is true….
I can sleep when I’m dead.

Take a picture! It’ll last longer.
No really, come on! Cause while your friends are invested in a feeling of joy masking unrecognizable shallowness
Your focus was on the focus of your shattered iphone 6
But, it’s fine, because if you don’t take a picture it didn’t happen.
Last week, you were right over there,
Passed out on the couch,
And everybody knows it happened.
Because a picture is worth a thousand words
A thousand words you did not speak
A thousand words,
But not one of them sounded like, “No”
A thousand words you’re praying you can white out with a thousand more. So, you’re back at that disgusting house smiling at people who won’t bother to ask your name.
But that’s fine,
Because at least they think you can have a “good time”
Take some candids! No really,
But make sure you know,
Because you would never want them to see that the twinkle in your eye was from the glint off of tears that appeared when the camera was turned.
But as long as you got a good shot.
Too bad that sometimes
The shot of a camera stings worse than that of a gun.

I know how it feels
How it feels when there’s a gremlin gnawing on your side
It sits behind your eyes,
And pushes out tears
It comes from nowhere, and anytime
From the middle of a lecture
To being held in the arms of the one you love
And it’ll push you apart.
And away
Its little claws grasping at invisible threads connected to your mind
While logic cowers in the corner
And you're left alone
There you’ll turn to the one holding you
moments ago
And they’ve turned too
turned away
So you lay in defeat,
letting the gremlin crawl back into your ear
latching back on
this consistency is the only thing coming up clear
draining you more day by day
but you let it
because
control seems better then the inevitability of the water that surrounds you when you take a dip in the deep end
-but othertimes-
when you're feeling braver,
finished submitting to the shallow end
you'll try and settle it down,
or at least help it sleep
meditation
medication
breathing
tea,
but
                                                       ­ these start to ring up useless
hope becomes your ploy
so maybe one day
those bite marks in your side will heal

This gremlin is not biased.
it does not care about race,
or status,
or gender
it has no consistency
it may plague you for weeks on end,
no relief
or room to breathe,
and disappear without a trace for a couple weeks more,
but it always knows the way back
it knows you

This gremlin is inconsiderate.
It does not care of your disposition
towards life
or academics
or your career
It does not care of who you are
and at times it will try to define you
use you against yourself
but just as a tree may lose its leaves,
and blooming flowers
you define yourself from your roots

so sleep tight,
           and settle in,
                    because
although your fight is far from won,
                    you've always got one thing to hold on to,
                    to cling to
                 and coddle in the dark
when the gremlin is quiet and still
dance in the solitude
and laugh
because you are you
and beautiful
down
to
each
and
every
root

Infatuation is transparent red.
It sounds like the quickened pace of a fox in the forest
It tastes like metallic blood pumping in the back of your throat
It smells like three week old lilacs
Infatuation feels like burrs stuck in the sleeves of your tattered wool sweater.

Anxiety is a cold, lilac purple.
It sounds like a care siren going off on a brisk September morning
It tastes like orange peels from yesterday's lunch
It smells like burning rubber
Anxiety feels like motion sickness from being trapped under impeding waves, with you hands tied to a post

Dead,
the day before yesterday.
Grieved by it, personally,
Reputation: few or no friends
Suggested art - lost its erratic stars
A dreamer! Dwelling in ideal realms
                          -the brain-
Madness

Melancholy

Indistinct curses with eyes upturned, already ******.
Happiness wit hglances introverted, shrouded in gloom,
arms wildly beating spirits - sought to forget
close by,
those glimpses
open to the doom of death

All my wishes, they manifest too soon.
Here we go again, the same dance; slow.
It left me there, under the bright blue moon.

Your promises fly by as loons,
signaling me in my cue to go
All my wishes, they manifest too soon.

The world's music of the night held me to swoon,
so, I missed the bus to your show
It left me there, under the bright blue moon.

I hope, I cry out to the beauty of that blue moon
for a chance, maybe these versus may flow
all my wishes, they manifest too soon.

the strings I play hum a broken tune,
but the breeze is forgiving, bringing me those tears in the sky that glow
It left me there, under the bright blue moon

Now, I share a meal with the sister of noon
sitting lonesome and caress the grass below
All my wishes, they manifest too soon.
It left me there under the bright blue moon.

You never think it is going to happen to you
Until you hear of a letter from the sheriff’s department,
And the quiet guy in your econ class no longer shows up to school.

You never think it would happen to them
Until you’re laughing over coffee
And someone mentions the events of last friday
And how the police were called in

You never think it would happen to her
Until she’s making jokes about it
But could have been gone forever
May the circumstances had changed

And you laugh along,

But the moment the talking stops,
The smiles fade,
You’ll come to the halting realization

You never think

Again.
before
Consistency
Drowns
e v e r y
foreshadowing,
Grenades
head
Insistently,
                      ­                                     Juxtaposed
                                                   keenly
                                                               ‘long
                                                      My
                                                           Newest
                                  Oath.
          Petition­s
                     Quickly
                              Reveal
Satire
        Tucked
                 Under
V    a     c   a   n     t,
Withered,
     Xysts.
                             {Youthful
                                       Zeal.}

Paranoia is electric green.
It sounds like the small hum of a 1976 refrigerator.
It tastes like somebody left a hair in your sandwich.
It smells like aged copper, dangling around your neck.
Paranoia feels like pins and needles right after standing up.

Sadness is dandelion yellow.
It sounds like the gentle tap of rain on the roof of a used car,
It tastes like a lukewarm coffee, with not enough sugar.
It smells like a three star motel room on a Wednesday afternoon.
Sadness feels like the streams of sunlight leaving your face, as the sun vanishes into the night sky.

I am water.
You can hold me close
I am warm in your hands
But, eventually I'll slip through your fingers
and all that will be left of me will be a cold feeling on your skin, and a puddle of wasted nothingness on the floor.

It's been a while since my heart first fluttered for you.
and
although (I hope) you'll never see these literary lines laid out for sake of my youthful embarrassment being whisked away
I'm here with motives of sincere resolving.
Boxes lined:
|   | beautiful
|   | forgiving
|   | purest heart of red
I assume as usual that my reaches are always non-existent just as any romance thrown my way,
but re-evaluation
and stipulation
are turning my blanks to realizations
of
                life
liberty
        and the pursuit of happiness
your eyes still shine with golden flecks
but the soul embroidered in the lining of your silouhette
shines brighter than most.....
so please stay permanent
and don't let my impulsive writing scare you
Blonde Haired Boy i do adore you.
with open arms of friendship
check-boxes
|x| all of the above
signed sincerely,
lots of love

To describe this feeling is to blind me, but if to express this is blinding, I have no problem with not seeing seeing at all.
It floods me, my brain.
As if a frost crossed my mind,
And freezes every thought I’ve had before you.
I can feel it in my temples and shift to my cheeks and slowly this all engulfing feeling has crept into my mouth…….
And I’m about to speak, but I slam.
The gates are closed.
I’m trapped inside a prison of own what ifs.
What if…
What if you reject me and the frost turns to ice, and by the time it’***** me its crept into my heart. Now I’ve become an impenetrable fort, permitting nothing else to enter.
What if you run……..
You’ll run so far that this invisible string that’s bonded us is tied to my heart and will rip it right from my chest.
But what if…….
But what if this feeling never leaves……

Tonight
when it called to me, I cried out each letter of your name,
And the sound resounded through each curve of my fingertips.
Tonight
my soul stalked you in the memories we shared
and the deafening silence where our conversations used to be.
Tonight
I thought my heart was full
but the truth is
the cracks I believed I had sealed with indifference
They’re splitting at the seams
leaking out longing for what could’ve been
Tonight
I did not plan to think of you
but I always do
and it will never end
for love cannot be conquered
Tonight
I have been consumed
Tonight
you sleep peacefully.

The words spoken were short and few,

But the wounds they formed cut deeper then you knew.
The residue left started to fester and rot.
And the butterflies in my stomach transformed into knots.
They say it’s alright,
I say it’s okay.
I wonder for once what I did anyway.

To provoke such,
Words
to form into knives.
They penetrate my skin,
but I will still strive.
In the dark of the moment I’ll make art from my pain,
Even if my confidence may never be the same.
I’ll come back STRONGER.
I’ll come back BOLD.

Willing to tell the story that needs to be told.
Yes, the cuts were deep,
But skin grows back thick.
I’ll never forget the words that clung to me.
They stick.

It happened in the night

The night made it happen-

I knew that it was over

as the sun streamed in.

kissing away the fear of the things i wish never happened.

What happened to us...
was worse than a break upyousee,

I mourn you as if you were dead.
silent memories of you were all that remained

because

you cut me out,
and                                                      gone without a trace.

NOW my guts are sprawled out,
naked and exposed,
it hit me like aTRAINOUTOFNOWHERE




It was worse than a break up
                                                it wasn’t sweet and gentle

you decided to cut every connection and leave me with the phone,
                   trying to figure out why the line was dead

This was worse than a break up
I was giving and I shared
joys-
splendor-
Secrets-
hoping to heal your holes
but now I’m sitting here writing and            collapsingIntoMyself
because I am          missing          so            much

This was worse than a break up
                                because I mourned for you

never bothered to tell me if you were dead NEVER bothered to care

in your hour of pain
you shared the wealth.
I care for you STILL
but
that’s all this is now













STILLNESS

I wish this was a break up.

I have a tendency.
A tendency not many think of
yet
they think of it all the time.
A tendency that,
will never die.
Even if it evokes that pain in me
in the blink of an eye.
This tendency festers,
like an infection

that’s
stopping my heart.
This tendency,
makes me feel everything
and nothing
at the exact same time.
This tendency is making me crazy
but
what if crazy wasn’t so bad?
My tendency
makes me hate myself
and love everything about me
for the exact same reason.

This tendency
can ruin my day.
But,
this tendency,
sits like a sack on my back
that I never want to lose.
Because
despite the straps digging into my sides,
this tendency
is why I cherish being alive.
this tendency,
I speak so poorly of
that I don’t want to leave me be
why
this tendency
is that I tend to love
so hopelessly
it’s the scariest part of me.