i’m in that mood
the one where every song in my playlist feels like someone finishing your sentence
when you and your homie are both thinking the same thing but you’re still explaining it to each other like they don’t get it. and it’s not the lyrics either. it’s not like i connect with the words in these songs THAT much it’s like the whole song feels like what i’m feeling and it just feels good.

i’m back in my notes
second night in a row
something’s not right
i really don’t know
but i’m going out less
and i’m having less fun
and i’m failing in school
and i’m failing in love
and my hair cuts too short
and i see my friends less
and roommates stuck up
and schools causing me stress
and i know it’s my fault
but i’m so far behind
it’s too late to catch up
i can’t do it this time
the **** that i write
is corny and cliche
but now i’m going to sleep
for the fifth time today

you ghosted me because it was easier for you to ignore me and tell me you’ve been busy and let me stress and worry about it until i finally snap and drop you. which took longer than i’d like to admit. but that’s just because i wanted it  to be true, i hoped that you were telling the truth, that you were just busy. that you weren’t on your phone. but your too selfish to sit through an awkward moment, tell me what was wrong, and tell me that your done. you would rather let me second guess myself. you watched me beg for you to give me anything. and told me it’s okay,

lets run away to toronto
we can take my grandpas old 2002 chevy silverado and take out the back seats. we can put a mattress in the bed of the truck with enough blankets and pillows to line the walls and floor and sleep in parking lots, trailer parks, and if we get lucky, a cliff overlooking a city or lake or river or forest
lets run away to Toronto.
we can leave everything here behind and just go. it’s just you and me now.
i can play guitar as you drive through the mountains, or you can lay down on our 40/20/40 seat with your head on my lap
let’s run away to Toronto, is what i find myself saying all too often.
to a girl who’s just a girl. just a girl that all of my family and friends have heard so much about. just a girl who’s initials have been carved into my skin. just a girl who has taken over my notes app. just a girl that is the center of my spotify. just a girl who never leaves my mind.
you bring me so much joy every time you come close, but i feel like **** when you cross my mind and we’re apart. so i figured if we were never apart i wouldn’t have to feel this way so once again i pitch my idea
lets run away to Toronto

there’s only one person who could ever make me feel this way.
she never stopped making me feel like this
we don’t interact anymore but each and every time i think of her i get the same feeling.
it’s weird though cause that feeling never changed
the thing is now there are other emotions brought upon by the same feeling
it’s the same feeling of love and safety but over time it caused longing
then sadness, then anger, than spite,
then hopelessness then loneliness.
you know it’s weird
how such a great feeling can cause such pain
but that same pain provides a sick nostalgic comfort
i am nothing but an annoyance to you
you are what my character is built upon
just as a flower has roots you are my fundamental being
though tucked away beneath the soil where nobody can see it you are whst brought about the boy i am today
it’s sad to see you so far gone
i watched you take a path that has lead into darkness
instead of feeling regret however
i catch myself smiling at your position
it’s sad that i can hate someone i once cared so much for

need somebody to love my ink stained hands
need somebody to love my frizzy hair
need somebody to love the way i smell with just deodorant
need somebody to love my big ol eyebrows
need somebody to love my skinny arms and legs and rib cage that shows through my chest
need somebody to love my constant texting
need somebody to love my constant touch
i need someone to love my love for them

i thought that you were in my life now because any sooner i wouldn’t have been right. i thought that all the experiences i’ve had leading up to this had prepared me for you. now that i’m not a cheater, i changed for the better, and i can finally love right. i thought that it was fate or something. that it was orchestrated by something beyond my comprehension. that you were being withheld or something and only after i had grown into who i am, only then was i ready. only when i was good enough. only then was i the person who could love you the way you deserved. maybe it’s another lesson for me. maybe this time it’s a lesson for you. what i know is i don’t want it to be a learning experience. i don’t want this to be another step on my journey. i want you to be the destination.  not a lesson but a reason why all the lessons mattered. i feel betrayed and i’m not sure by who. you told me you love me to tell me you’re done. i don’t know what love is to you.

nobody will ever understand how good back rubs feel
not like a massage
just to have your back caressed
it’s better than anything
scalp massages are a close second
but i’m sitting in bed rn
wanting you to rub my back
but your not here, you’ve never been here
you might not ever be here
and you definitely won’t rub my back

i wish i had recordings of our conversations.
see i have this playlist. it’s spoken word over soft instrumental. it’s all these recordings of these guys who can capture their feelings so well and it has poems and songs and thoughts about everything, but somehow, they’re all about you. i wish i could listen to your voice the way i listen to them and i would in a heartbeat given the chance. to hear not only your voice but the just the way that you talk. your choice of words, make my feet turn to rocks, your enunciation, pronunciation, the thing you do with your mouth when you speak, the way you position your teeth the way that they would almost gleam. god i would **** to relive that memory. i gave all my attention to you. like a convenience store clerk being held at gun point by your boyfriend, i cleared my register and filled your bag. every second i spent with you was spent memorizing your every feature to the point where i could see you in my minds eye when i heard your voice over the phone. i could see your smile, when you close your eyes, when you raise your eyebrows, when you were clearly high, every face that you made i could envision each one. i’ve always adopted the mannerisms of those who i love. but i didn’t realize to what extent until yesterday. i saw all my family when we gathered to see my great aunt judy alive once more. i found home movie in my grandmothers phone. when i played it i could tell that i had been talking to you at the time it was recorded. only based off of the movement of my mouth. the way i talked. i was trying to replicate you. i bring you up a lot. you were a huge part of my life and you changed me entirely. every time you’re brought up i’m told to move on. and i have. but not completely. i’m not sure if i’m yet to move on or if you just made an impact so big i still connect everything to you. i’ve never felt anything like what i felt with you.

i want to put together meaningful words with deep complex themes and truth beneath the surface. something about the beauty of impermanence or my tendency to overcomplicate. it’s like i want to capture my feelings in a cool edgy way but they’re just kinda lame. they’re not all that deep. they’re just dumb and cliche. i’m sixteen and girls don’t love me. i don’t like school. my friends don’t like me. i don’t have lines that hit you hard or metaphors that linger in your head. i don’t have rhyme schemes that i find naturally, i have one fish two fish red fish blue fish. i don’t have a truck that i’m in love with. and i don’t have a girl that will let me love her. i don’t have a dad that i hate. or one that i adore. i’m just a self sabotaging hyper romantic man *****. i want to write about silent screams or a shadowing crowd, or a deafening silence, or quiet meaningless vows. i have girl that wanted me to grab her ****. i have scabs on half my knuckles. i have battered and misshapen fists. i have an ex that ****** my brother and then tried to **** my ****. i have an ability to drink cheap ***** without the risk of getting sick. i have notes in my phone full of meaningless rhymes. and and tendency to fall asleep at inconvenient times. i lost my rhythm if one there ever was. as for my rhymes i’m just grabbing for straws.