shake me from my slumber
i will still be sweating
with a smile on my face.
not a nightmare but
an impossible dream.
the worst of cruelties is knowing you can never come true.

old friends
an email in my inbox
you owe me time
I gave you my heart
and then didn't see you again
for around 1.5 years now
falling out of friendship
but I still love you.
the world owes us time.
(the world owes us a lot of things)

tape my mouth with duct tape
whisper goodnight in my ear
and wonder why I do not respond

a starling made of starlings
vanilla light seeping from the Promethean screen
and for a split second, it all makes sense

words are too small
cramping for this feeling
yet i must share it
<or else how would I know I lived at all?>

people like happy poems . . .
how depressing.

a scream is little
other than a sudden wake
let's all stay asleep

a hopeless romantic
now she's just hopeless.
he was the man (boy, really)
of her dreams

he's not a nightmare, exactly,
it's just that she woke up
and her expectations fell down
to be dashed on the rocks

she's not outright sad
just melancholy
not quite blind,
just an occasional haze

the rose-colored glasses
were knocked off her face
by her own half-asleep arm

shattering, tinkling, singing
a beautiful song of praise and hope
until the clattering glass turns
to a silent, frozen scream

oh why can't she ever be more
than half asleep.
not rested, not stolen away by her dreams
yet not completely here, either
a separate lonely chair
just for her.