Different shades of red thoughts haunt my waking motions. Different shades of red thoughts make me feel like I have nothing left. Different shades of red thoughts are covered in all the blood that I have bled. You never want to see these thoughts, you never want to see all the things that have made me bleed.

I feel like I wiped my whole desk of life off. Now I am lost, and have nothing.

I've just about fallen through the rickety wooden floor of my life. I have no idea where I'm going anymore.

I don't know anything anymore, and I'm not sure of any part of the future anymore.

Every bit of hipster culture tells me that is is okay not to know your path or future.

I don't think I like it though. I feel like everything has been erased.

My life turned upside down in a way where things are okay. But I am afraid.

The future is mysterious, but I've been told I can't change it anyway.

So I mind as well not even try, just try to shape it in the best way I can.

I'll get there safely, and I'll be happy(hopefully) someday.

As always I will put my faith in the occurrence of events, and try not to worry too much about things.

Try to do the best that I can, even if I feel that things have been crushed and molded again.

Even if I want to give up, and sit out once and for all.

I'll make it through, even on my darkest days.

I will prevail
I will fight
I will lose
I will win
I will live
I will die

you were like my favorite sweater
but
I couldn't help but pull
at all your loose threads
so i could watch you unravel
stitch by stitch


now i'm left wishing that i had learned how to sew

I sit here
silently eating blackberries
trying to picture
the way your face looks
right after I kiss you

I tried to paint
that smile once
but it came out looking
like a sunrise

my feet are not touching the floor
I am not gripping this pen
I am not me
I am not here

I float above my-body and everybody
I am loosely tethered to the girl
with the terribly dead eyes

do you have a scissor?
s
n
i
p
.
.
.

we are bereft Fireflies
and Polar Bears
we have a lot though
and too many to count
they do not light up and
thankfully nothing hunts us

My home died 8 years ago and I
Never understood why—
No flames that licked our gingerbread house to the ground;
No earth-shattering wave that swept us off our feet;
No ghosts to keep us company—
Just a deep, lingering silence growing
Louder, and louder, more defined
As the hollow floors whined
In rebellion of the years glazed by.