the grass can hear us
the trees can see us
the earth can feel us
they whisper in secret
gossip and cry
debating our future
consuming the hurt
yet choosing to be kind

I am crossing a threshold
walking home I felt
people in numbers
walking behind me
following the march
something is coming
something still on the way
I can feel it

I dyed my hair purple
to look like Gaz Membrane
from Invader Zim
that's all

There is no light,
I tried to find it.
Every day I spared my consciousness,
I searched and scavenged
to no avail.
There was only grey,
and it so happened,
that the brightest day
was the darkest of all.
The light of august
fated to fall
the minute morning came
so mourning goes
and all thereafter tarnished.

incredible, i scrap for bits of you
you are dead and alive forever

i am on a bus looking at the sky out the window
clouds straight above me, moving slow, yet never same, always moving, always new
i'm looking up at the sky but i'm buried beneath millenias of rubble and sand
i am alive now as i write this
breathing and thinking every word through,
breath and write with me each of these words, one after the other, even those, even these,
yet i am permanently gone (and always have been), screaming into the future
"I am forgotten!"

for a while after my death this poem will be a portal
where you can speak to a 20 year old ******* a bus in ithaca, typing these words in my notes, listening to Mitski, mourning my mother, mourning the future, mourning you,
who is peering into this portal and speaking to me now
I can hear you
and as I'm underneath the sand, clawing uselessly for air, after eternity, and in an instant,
I will hear you screaming with me
We are all forgotten forever
Time and the universe will erase each other
After the final black whole
warps the remaining scraps of light
into an unfathomable nothing-strand, and we all evaporate with the bottom of eternity
if there is a way to escape
sing it to me
even after my eternal silence
my soul will be open
even if i am too far underneath the sand
even if you never read this poem
we are a portal
and I hear your call
and your heart is beating, and you are real
and all the dead can feel your pulse
and we are singing back to you.

can you hear me from up here?
i know my being here makes you there
though i still feel as if
you are there, and so i am here
it takes long for my steps to land
my voice might ring forever,
though i can't hear it
can't bear to be near
the atmosphere which shields me
from you
from myself
and every little meteoroid
that i witness time and time again
how quickly they all fall to you

whenever my mother is driving
and sees kids crossing the street
she stops
remembers their clothes
and checks the time
just in case
their pictures appear
on the news tomorrow

the universe, looking at itself
inside itself, looking at its guts
we might be gore
lacking in surgical precision-
the supernature of preserving life on the brink

my form has long left me
my eyes no more of my body
gone from my physical form
i praise the higher
let me be free of this earth
break the sky into little bits
and let me drift
for my roots have been plucked
and my principles stray
i dream of a place
where i can feel

my darkness, i'm with you even now
i hear your call like my own echo
i've felt you before
i'm empty for you

don't worry
I'll start writing shorter poems